#special interest group: hands edition

[jessieren]

Anyone for more Hand Naked Wednesday?

Yeah I know... I've lost the plot. Not for the first time. But given how popular the hands were last week I thought I'd continue the theme

And for those of you who prefer it more old school on HNW

[deckedcards]

. . . I THINK I’M LIKING HIM MORE, HE DOES THE THINGS I NEVER ASK FOR

⌗ PAIRING: shuntarō chishiya x male! reader

⌗ SUMMARY: chishiya, the cold-hearted and reckless troublemaker of the school has seemingly had his eyes stuck on a certain nerdy boy that always carelessly walks around his area of the place.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, third person pov, no borderlands au, high school au, fluff, tiny bit of angst, short fic, delinquent! chishiya, nerd! reader, reader kinda has a nonchalant personality, secret relationship, mentions of bullying, fighting, mentions of harassment, chishiya being protective over reader, unintentional slight yandere! chishiya, kinda obsessed chishiya, stalking, reader is the same height as chishiya, hopelessly in love chishiya, reader likes what he’s doing, i wrote chishiya to have the same appearance as nijirô’s character in tokyo revengers “kazutora hanemiya,” includes some inaccurate stuff about japanese schools, a little inspired by yandere simulator, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: this came to me when i saw an edit of nijirô in the tokyo revengers movie soo shoutout to the person who made that i guess😀😀

⸺ A CALMING SCHOOL BELL echoed loudly around the building, multiple students taking the things from their desks and rushing out of the doors desperate to go home. chishiya stood flat against one of the walls, ignoring the people taking cautious steps near him. the feared delinquent of the school is the reputation he’s made for himself here.

starting fights with random students that would ever accidentally brush against him in the hallways resulting in said students having their faces be beaten and disfigured to the point of no return. forcing people against their will to participate in fight clubs and make bets on their failures, making some of his friends do his dirty work whenever he wasn’t in the mood to handle something, never batting an eye whenever girls got harassed by his friends. the man showed no remorse for his actions, his face always set into a poker expression as a tiny kitten smile grazed his lips. he only hung around a few people, the rest of his “gang” and a girl named hikari kuina, one of the gyarus at this school.

chishiya kept his head low as his bangs covered the top of his eyes, searching for a specific pair of shoes that would walk past him. his eyes shined as he found them, straightening his posture as he trailed behind the person he was waiting for, (name). this man was special to him, he felt a sense of priority in protecting him. (name) was a nerd, always getting good grades and getting scored at the top of his classes, he was the perfect punching bag for someone like chishiya. but thats not what he wanted from him, no. (name) was the only person that didn’t fear him at every waking moment, he didn’t care if chishiya or his friends were some big bad entity, he treated them like they were just regular students at this school because… they were!

and thats what chishiya favored about him. the boy served zero interest in getting involved with him, he didn’t care if he walked through the hallways of his unassigned part of the school, the part where all the delinquents would hangout. the part which was also coincidentally where a shortcut was made to cut through the rest of the school and get to classes faster.

chishiya sat with his legs crossed ontop of a heater box, he picked at his nails as his ears gathered up the sounds of two boys getting beaten by some of the people in his group. pleads were heard as he raised his hand to scratch at his scalp, dark hair getting twisted up as he thread his hands through it. the lunch bell rang, he saw students from across getting out of their classes and walking towards the cafeteria, all of them avoiding his hallway. him seeing some people hurriedly grab their friends as they made sudden mistakes of taking a few steps at the end of it.

this was a regular occurrence, him observing people as they sent him fearful stares and instinctively quivering in their shoes this worsening especially when he planted himself in different areas of the school. developing fears of any of the places that he’d be able to hide in. corners, closets, corridors, classrooms, the garden or swimming pool that were placed behind the school, anything. sudden gasps and whispers of different students filled his eardrums as he turned his neck to glance at what was happening, a figure was coming his way.

a boy with glasses and a resting bitch face trudged through like a model, his unbothered body language shined through him like a flashlight. chishiya examined him throughly, he was about the same height as him, white shirt unbuttoned slightly and exposing the tank top underneath it, his uniform blazer was held in his arms like a coat hanger as he adjusted the bag with multiple keychains on his shoulder. a lavender aroma hit his nostrils like a grenade, the scent calming down any type of tension that was set in his body.

chishiya watched as he stepped over the bodies of the boys on the floor, them and their bullies stared at him in confusion as he continued to walk away, not sparing any glances at anyone that hung around the rest of the corridor. chishiya quirked his eyebrow as one of his friends looked at him, looking for any signals in his face to go after the guy. he shook his head as he got down from where he was sitting sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants as his eyes glued onto figure before glancing away as he rounded a corner, leaving his imprint on everyone’s gaze.

ever since that encounter chishiya became more excited on the inside as he waited for the man’s presence to pass by him in the halls. he found out his name was (name) when he “decided” to attend one of the schools assemblies. of course, like always, (name) was there too as he walked up to the stage with someone that was apart of the staff announcing an award for him. chishiya observed him throughout everything, walking into school, going to class, eating lunch, passing through the building, looking at him through the windows of his classroom while he was sat near the wall and squatting down whenever (name) felt his cat-like eyes on him, even following him home to ensure his safety and just his safety (definitely not because he wants to know where the person he loves lives and watch over him incase something happened to him.)

“how long are you gonna keep following me for?”

chishiya stepped out of his dazed mind, blinking slowly as he saw (name) with his body turnt towards him hands on his bag and glasses rested ontop of his head, “follow?” chishiya repeated, pushing his lips out as he thought of a lie to say, “i’m just trying to go home like everyone else,” (name) raised one of his brows, did he think he was that stupid? acting like he didn’t know about the shadow that chishiya always left on the places he visited. the figure he always noticed standing outside of his window at night that had the same similarities of his silhouette. the way chishiya prevented his friends from causing harm to him, threatening them if they ever had thoughts of trying to do what they regularly did to other nerds in the school.

all the jealous stares that chishiya sent his way whenever (name) held the quivering hands of his friends as he guided them through the passageway, wishing that was him in their place and not them. he didn’t wanna admit it but chishiya’s actions made his heart flutter a bit, (name) wasn’t liked throughout the school, especially with how “perfect” his image was. people attempting to use his intelligence in ways to benefit themselves, sending scowls his direction and spouting insults at him accusing him of sleeping with his homeroom teachers and the principal to get where he was now.

his careless attitude kept all of this from straining his heart, continuing to do what he did best and enjoying all the praise adults sent his way. (name)’s always been advised in avoiding the delinquents or anyone that could tarnish his reputation and strain him from his academics, but how could he do that when chishiya was just so cute?

him and his sharp cat features, the dyed black and dirty white hair that suited his skin tone so well, his dark tattoo that covered the side of his neck and the tough exterior that prevented him from showing others what he was really feeling at times. (name) knew there was more to chishiya then how he made himself to be, a kinder and sweeter boy that cared more about the lives of others and his own ideals.

(name) hummed as he kicked a fake rock away from his shoes, “that’s what you said yesterday,” he said stepping closer to chishiya as he spoke, “and the day before that and then the day before that one and the week before that,” (name) brought his hands up to hold the sides of chishiya’s face as he saw his lip corners curving upwards, “how long are we gonna have to keep this up for?”

the air shifted as the two sought comfort in each other’s eyes, chishiya leaning one of the sides of his face into (name)’s gentle warm palm, “until we get out of here,” he sorely replied watching as (name) exhaled through his nose and shifted his gaze to the floor beneath them, “it’s our last year here, only a few more months and we’re gone,” chishiya said bringing up his hand to cup one of (name)’s as he nodded.

(name) leaned forward to press a small kiss onto the man’s pink lips, redirecting his right hand to play with the dangling earring on chishiya’s earlobe as his saddened expression made itself more visible the moment he spoke up, “just, don’t keep me locked in your heart until then…” he mumbled tearing away from his lover trying to ignore the way chishiya frowned as his body spun away from him, only leaving chishiya to stand in the darkened light of the place as his face tried desperately to cling onto the feeling of where (name) had left his touch.

© @deckedcards 2025 all rights reserved ☆ please do not repost, translate, copy or share my work on other platforms without my permission, thank you.

[koqabear]

Wish Me Luck?

♫: Wake Up In The Sky, Bruno Mars

“In which working with these two makes your life impossible— because they’re annoying, and won’t leave you alone— you try your best to ignore them but sometimes, it’s too tempting.”

hueningkai x fem!reader x taehyun

Genre: pwp, rockstar au, makeup artist!reader, smut

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: genuinely like.. none, i think. 

Smut Warnings: dom!tae, dom!huening, sub!mc, threesome, unprotected sex, they’re both pervs sorry, use of mirrors(?), pet names (pretty, doll, cutie, etc.) dry humping, slight marking, handjob, fingering, hair pulling, spanking, praise, masturbation, slight exhibitionism?, multiple orgasms, creampie(s), lmk if i should add anything!

Notes: part of a rockstar!txt mini series. lowkey gave up on formatting so if shows don’t tell me. anyways! happy birthday to my bf huening 😁 again this was like… barely edited so it’s a little uhh… idk. enjoy, hopefully..

There are many perks that come with the rockstar lifestyle— money, clothes, fame, women.

Taehyun tries to take advantage of it all— and he has, though he finds that the last perk is reserved for someone more… special. 

Taehyun is currently in his favorite place to be before a concert— the makeup station, of course. This could mean many things for him; a chance for him to rest, a relaxing time to get his hair and makeup done, able to get perfectly dolled up just for him to ruin it all during his shows. 

But that’s not the reasoning at all— rather, his reasoning lies with the pretty makeup artist who, unfortunately, is not tending to him today. 

It takes a bit of enjoyment out of the experience— however, he will say that he’s not complaining about the view he’s getting now, watching the way you tend to Kai and touch his face as though he’s made of glass with a fond smile; before he can control himself, his eyes fall to the cute skirt you’re wearing today, a tug of guilt hitting his stomach at the way he feels slightly disappointed upon the realization that they have built-in safety shorts— what can he say? It was always a total accident when he looked over to you bent over, pretty ass on display as you worked diligently on the member assigned. 

Hueningkai, Taehyun notices, definitely isn’t faring well with your proximity to him. Unlike Taehyun, who’s always dying to get his hands on you and keep you to himself, Hueningkai has always preferred to watch from a distance— so to have you here, taking over his senses with the alluring perfume you use and feeling your delicate fingers brush against his skin as you do his makeup— well, safe to say Hueningkai is practically meditating to not pop a boner then and there. 

“___, have you been busy? I barely see you around anymore,” Taehyun asks, peeking up from his phone and over to the next chair where you continue to meddle with Hueningkai, standing back to observe your work before you’re jumping at the sound of your name. 

“Well, I’ve been assigned to the rookie group the company debuted, you know,” you sigh out, having had this conversation more times than you can remember as you reach to brush away a stray hair from Hueningkai’s forehead; you watch as his eyes flutter shut and his brows twitch, and you wonder if you may have irritated him as you press your lips together. 

“That’s unfair…” Taehyun pouts softly, pretending as though his phone is much more interesting as he continues to sneak glances at you, eyes darkening at how cute you look while concentrating, not paying attention to Taehyun’s words as you begin applying lip tint to Hueningkai, “They’re taking my makeup artist away from me, I don’t like this one bit.”

“I’m not your makeup artist,” you fuss, sighing in exasperation as you take a step back from Hueningkai; you tell him to open his eyes as you take in the final result, smiling softly in satisfaction as you observe your work on him— looking at Taehyun, you cross your arms, frowning at the way you catch him staring at you already, “I’m the company’s makeup artist. Who I get assigned to work on is entirely up to them, so I don’t get why you’re acting like this right now.”

“Is it wrong to want a pretty girl to do my makeup?” He asks, and your face twists as you watch his current makeup artist throw an incredulous glance your way— just as you’re about to turn and leave, you’re surprised to find Hueningkai grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him. 

“My hair,” he mumbles quietly, so soft you almost missed it— you lean down to try and hear him better, unaware of the way his eyes dart down to your low neckline and your lips that pout in concentration, “Can you fix it? It’s… different now.”

As far as you’re concerned, he looks completely fine; you’re quick to tell him that as well, only to see as he insists that it was different before you worked on his makeup. 

“Well if you want, I can go get your hairdresser—“ you begin, only to stop short at the feeling of Hueningkai’s grip tightening slightly. 

“But you can do it, no?”

God, these two were impossible. 

Their behavior was nothing new to you, and you oftentimes found yourself the victim of teasing as your coworkers poked fun at the way the two seemed to be attached to you like lost puppies— you always tried to refute such claims, but the way they constantly wanted you around them really didn’t help. 

“You can do it, ___,” Taehyun says, and you feel a bit bad for his makeup artist as he moves to look at you, “Gives us an excuse to keep you here a bit longer.”

Out of the two, Taehyun is much more blunt— but that doesn’t mean you’re used to it, feeling your face grow hot at his words as you attempt once more to run away— it’s all in vain of course, because Hueningkai is tugging you back and giving you a look that almost makes your knees buckle.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this.

“Please.”

Nothing about that is a request. He looks up at you with lidded, dazed eyes, and you find yourself complying hesitantly the longer he looks at you like he’ll devour you any second. You don’t even know what he wants his hair to look like— so you go with his usual ruffled look, his long dark hair soft under your fingers as you stand in front of him and run through the locks with mousse. 

You try to keep a straight face the whole time; even when Taehyun continues to make baiting comments at you, complimenting you with a deep purr as he tries to get your attention back on him— even as you feel the way Hueningkai can’t take his eyes off you, much bolder than usual as you bite your lip and hover over him, quick hands desperate to finish his styling. 

Your hands freeze in his hair as you feel something warm on the back of your thigh. 

That something warm serves as Hueningkai’s hand, resting on your skin as he simply continues to look up at you innocently, chewing his gum and tilting his head as though to ask what’s wrong? 

You try to contain the shiver that runs through you as his thumb begins to softly caress your skin, venturing under the cloth of your safety shorts for a moment before he’s moving it back down.

“Something wrong?” Taehyun drawls out, and a glance at him shows that his makeup artist has left— it’s just you three, and your brows knit together as you take in the way his makeup isn’t done yet, “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You’re shaken out of your reverie at his words; putting the finishing touches, you step away from Hueningkai, feeling the way his hand is reluctant to leave your skin, his arm falling limply at his side as he stares at you with hungry curiosity. 

“I think I’m done here,” you breathe out, attempting to hide your shaky hands as you place them behind your back, “Make sure you’re changed and ready in time for the show.”

Bowing politely, you make your way to the exit— only to be stopped the moment you pass Taehyun, an exasperated sound leaving you involuntarily as he takes your hand and tugs you back to him. 

“Are you done?” he asks, sparkly eyes not enough to conceal his mischief as he tilts his head to the side, “There’s nothing missing here?”

Of course something is missing. Taehyun doesn’t have his lip tint on, but you refuse to point it out as you hum softly, pretending to be in thought for a second before you finally shake your head no.

“No?” he pouts— he’s then puckering his lips, nodding his head toward you and sending you a kiss as he smiles coyly, “Are you sure?”

“You seem to be missing…” you grit out, watching as he raises his brows expectantly, as though encouraging you to finish your train of thought, “Your lip…tint.”

“Oh. You think so?” he asks, looking back at the mirror and swiping a finger across his lips before he hums, “Could you do it for me, please? I’ve always loved how you left my lips all pretty.”

You’re inhaling slowly to not turn on your heels and run away— not because you don’t want to do your job, but because you’re anxious about what might happen if you’re left alone in a room with these two for a moment longer; all you know is that if the way they look at you serves as any indicator, then they’re definitely up to no good.

“My lips always look like candy with the combo you use,” he continues, watching as you go to the vanity to search for the products you usually use for him— after a moment, you’re turning to him, products in one hand a small lip brush in the other— your eyes meet his, and you’re slightly startled with the way he suddenly leans forward, eerily close to you as his eyes flicker down to the way your lips part in a silent gasp, “Don’t you think so?”

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” you mutter swiftly, immediately getting to work in hopes that Taehyun can just shut up for once— he does, but you’re still left at the mercy of his intense stare, trying to pretend as though his proximity isn’t enough to make you feel nervous.

“You look really pretty today ___,” It’s Hueningkai’s turn to torment you— if you weren’t so focused on Taehyun, you would’ve scoffed, opting instead to let out a noncommittal hum instead. 

“Are you doing anything after the show?”

He says that as you’re finally stepping away from Taehyun; silently, you’re happy for the timing of his words, because you know that you would’ve messed up Taehyun’s makeup from your surprise— which would’ve meant you staying longer to fix it. 

“No,” you say, refusing to elaborate even if their curious stares silently plead you to— turning around, you continue to ignore them as you put your stuff away, pretending as though you weren’t rushing in hopes to leave quicker. 

“Taehyun and I are going out for drinks after to celebrate the end of the tour,” He says quietly, and you make the mistake of looking up at him through the mirror— he’s looking at you of course, though the way his dark makeup only makes his eyes look more intense doesn’t help you at all— softly, he smiles. 

“You should come with. Our treat.”

“Oh, I— I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a bother,” you stutter out, your nonchalant demeanor beginning to slip the moment you see them stand up behind you, shaky hands rushing to zip your makeup case shut, “I should really get going now, you two still need to change—“

“Yeah, but what’s the rush?” You’re fucking trapped— they stand on either side of you, looming dangerously and looking at you as though you’re nothing but a treat for them to devour— you can feel their breaths fanning on each side of your neck as you attempt to close yourself off pathetically, trying to take a step back before you feel two hands on you— one on the small of your back, the other on your hip as they both push you back against the vanity; the startled yelp you let out is embarrassing, your hands flying down to support yourself from how firmly they push you forward. 

“We have well over an hour to finish getting ready,” Taehyun breathes out, lips brushing against your jaw as he lets out a soft sigh, “And that’s a lot of time, isn’t it?”

Hueningkai hums in agreement; his hand is the one on your hip as it rubs soothing circles, leaning down to where you hang your head and sending you a misleading smile.

“We should do something to pass the time.”

God, were they always this close? They’re filling your senses and making you dizzy, your hands beginning to ache from how hard you’re gripping the edge of the vanity as you simply gulp in response. Their lips are soft and fucking sticky from the gloss you just put on them, leaving kiss marks along your skin as they kiss you softly, mumbling compliments and praise that you can barely get through your head from how dizzy you feel. 

“Do you know that we try to request you for every show?” Taehyun asks, watching the way your eyes flutter shut as Hueningkai begins to trail kisses down your neck, open-mouthed and sultry as he nips at your skin teasingly, “Some bullshit about you knowing our complexion best— don’t get us wrong, you do, but…”

“You’re like a lucky charm,” Hueningkai finishes for him, pulling away and bringing a hand up to grab at your chin, tilting you to look at him as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “The show won’t go well if our pretty makeup artist isn’t here with us.”

You whimper— and shit, it’s humiliating, your cheeks growing hot immediately after as you wish nothing more than to dig a hole for yourself then and there— but oh, their words are so hypnotizing to you, speaking about you like you’re something they can’t live without, touching you like they’re starved and desperate to get a taste.

And judging by the way they look at you, they definitely are. 

“Sometimes… we wonder if it’s enough, just getting a look at you before we go on stage,” Hueningkai says, and it’s Taehyun’s turn to nod along and leave teasing touches, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt as he noses at your throat, taking in your scent with a satisfied sigh.

“I think it’d be nice if you wished us luck tonight,” Hueningkai says, tilting his head as he gives you a puppy-eyed look, “Don’t you wanna?”

Fuck. You can’t think straight, not when they’re taking up your space, unable to keep their hands and lips off you as they wait not-so-innocently for your response. Shutting your eyes, you try to move past the warm and welcoming feeling of their hands to think.

“This is dangerous,” you finally spit out, biting your lip at the way they immediately back off, “You could get in trouble— I could lose my job.”

“Oh please,” Taehyun scoffs, sitting back against the vanity as he crosses his arms, “The company doesn’t care about what we do in our private life— you’ve seen the way the others can get with their little groupies, right?”

You mull over his words for a second; it’s no secret that this band is very active and reckless, though you suppose the company has taken advantage of that and began to use it as their image halfway through their career— at least, that must be the case if they’re able to advance on you so boldly, the rest of your coworkers unfazed by the whole situation. 

“But— my job—?”

“You think none of these other people that work here haven’t fooled around with their groups?” Taehyun asks, the incredulous smile on his face quickly turning to a pout as he coos at the innocent, wide-eyed look you give him, “They know how to keep a secret, pretty— so do we.”

This is ridiculous— even more so because you find yourself considering it, quickly shaking your head upon the sobering realization— though, the two are keen to notice the way you have yet to try and scurry away from them like always. 

“Don’t you feel tired of being so uptight all the time?” Huening asks, your head snapping up to watch as he places his hands on your shoulders, hovering behind you as he massages them gently, “We could help you relax. Have some fun, even.”

The two try to keep it cool the moment you lean into Hueningkai’s touch— though, you can still pick up on the way Taehyun’s eyes widen and Hueningkai’s hands freeze for just a second, your eyes threatening to shut from the way you remain too shy to gauge their reactions. 

“Won’t someone come in?”

In response, they laugh— poor thing, they think, glancing back at the door that got locked long ago, if they were finally going to get their hands on you, the last thing they would do is allow someone else to see. 

“No one will come in right now— we’re supposed to be changing, aren’t we?” Hueningkai says, smiling against your skin as he continues, “It’d be an invasion of privacy to try and come in now.”

They grin at the way you remain silent, clearly lost in thought by their words.

“Want us to treat you good?” Taehyun asks, placing a hand on your waist before he’s leaning in, his lips brushing against yours as he lets out a shaky breath, “Thank you for your hard work?”

Finally you break. 

“Please.”

Taehyun is a messy kisser— though, you don’t find yourself to be too surprised, always more eager out of the two to get his hands on you as he begins to kiss you with abandon— his hand cupping your jaw to keep you close, tongue prodding your mouth open and sharp teeth sinking into your plush lips teasingly; behind you, Hueningkai has moved his hands to your hips, pulling you back and forcing your back to arch as you feel him begin to rut his cock into you slowly, dark eyes taking in the way you only whine and moan under their touch. 

“Fuck, let me use those pretty hands, baby,” Taehyun sighs against your lips, guiding you down to his hard bulge and smiling against your lips the moment you begin to palm him; you’re slow and unsure with your movements, but that only makes Taehyun needier as he begins to rut his length against your palm, eager to get stimulation as he places his hand on top of yours to guide you to hold him through his sweats.

“Is playing hard to get fun for you?” Hueningkai asks, his voice low and rough as he plays with the hem of your shorts, pulling at the waistband before letting it go and allowing it to snap against your skin, “I can feel you soaking through your shorts— so fucking needy, why have you been avoiding us so long?”

You don’t have half the brain to answer that question; not when Taehyun has slipped your hand under his sweats and Hueningkai currently pulls down your skirt, leaving you exposed as you hold Taehyun’s cock and allow him to fuck into your first with shaky breaths against your lips. 

Trying to avoid them was such a stupid decision— because if it meant you could have these two boys like this sooner, drunk off your touch and desperate to take even more from you, you would’ve given in to their cheeky comments and shameless flirting long ago. 

Hueningkai’s fingers are slender and long as they glide up and down your slit; pressing against your panties, taking in the way you’ve soaked through them with a deep satisfaction as he lets out a breathy laugh. His middle and ring finger press at your entrance, listening to the way you whine and almost letting out a groan at the way you wiggle your hips and press them back in hopes of feeling him inside you. 

“Waited so long for this,” Hueningkai breathes out, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down sloowwly, watching as you whine impatiently before you’re stepping out of your garments— You pull away from Taehyun, staring down at the way he bucks into your fist and missing the way he bites his lip to suppress a laugh at the sight of Hueningkai pocketing your soaked panties. 

“Wanted to fuck you the moment you got assigned to us— our pretty makeup artist,” Hueningkai sighs, placing a kiss in between your shoulder blades before he’s fucking his fingers into you, jaw clenching at the way you suck in his fingers and tighten around him pathetically, the wet sounds that come from his shallow thrusts enough to have your head hanging with pleasure. 

“Do you…” you sigh, letting out a soft whine as Taehyun takes a handful of your hair and forces your head back up, clearing your throat in a weak attempt to continue as the said man now begins to kiss and suck softly at your neck, careful to not leave any marks, “Do this to… fuck, every crew member you think is attractive? Mess with them shamelessly and try to corner them so you can finally fuck them? …Hmm?”

Hueningkai’s index finger is tracing your entrance teasingly— he laughs softly at your comment, choosing not to say anything as he stretches you out with a third finger instead; he’s curling his fingers and grinding his hand into your cunt, taking in your expression with hungry eyes and noting the places that make your legs shake. 

“You think we do this to just anyone?” Taehyun asks, brows furrowed as he pulls away, taking in the way you wince at his appearance— more specifically, his lip tint that has smudged all over his lips and chin and onto your skin, “Baby, I hope you realize that you’re the first person we’ve ever pulled this shit on.”

“And the last,” Hueningkai chimes in, looming over your shoulder as he bites at your earlobe teasingly, his other hand circling your waist to rub at your clit, “We plan to keep you.”

God. You hope he didn’t notice the way you clenched pathetically from his words, but judging by the way he laughs breathily and fucks his fingers harder into you, he definitely did. 

“Shit, what aren’t these hands good for?” Taehyun asks, watching the way you pump along his length and reach up to swipe the precum that leaks from his tip, spreading it along the rest of his length as you watch the way your hand glistens and becomes messy from your actions, “You have no idea how much I thought about this— always felt so guilty watching as you did my makeup so innocently, unaware that I’d give up my job if it meant I could— I could bend you over this vanity and fuck you good.”

“Did you ever fantasize about us?” Hueningkai teases, only to be surprised by the way you nod your head frantically, eyes shutting from embarrassment as you grind your hips back into him, just to get a feel of his cock against your ass, “Yeah? What’d you think about? Maybe we could make it happen.”

You shake your head no— you’re reluctant to spew out your fantasies as easily as the two are, but that only proves to be a mistake from the way Hueningkai’s fingers slip out of you, instead landing down harshly on your ass as you jump at the sudden feeling. 

“What, too shy to tell us?” Taehyun asks, placing a hand on top of your own and making you slow to a stop as he examines your face, “Then again, you’ve always been a shy little thing— it’s your charm, you know.”

You can only let out a pathetic whimper at that; Taehyun is shaking your hand off him, your eyes fluttering open as you watch him tuck himself back in, giving you a sly smile before he’s sitting back down in his chair— Hueningkai is taking a step back, but it’s only to bend you over as he lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction— nodding to Hueningkai, Taehyun grins, his dimple poking at his cheek as he speaks.

“You first, Kai? I’ll give you the honors for being so patient.”

Your mouth is falling open the moment you feel his tip glide along your entrance— going up and down, clearly teasing you as he allows your wetness to collect on his dick, forcing you to listen to the sounds as you let out a shaky sigh, staring down at the vanity and your tense hands that are curled into fists— slowly, he begins to push into you, enjoying the way you bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your sounds, failing to do so as Hueningkai resorts to the next best thing— his hand is firm against your mouth as he holds your head up, your eyes meeting his through the mirror as you watch him begin to fuck you slowly.

The stretch has you blinking away tears of pleasure— if it weren’t for Hueningkai keeping you quiet, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the attention of the rest of the crew, your sounds muffled against the palm of his hand as your body begins to jolt forward from his pace, the vanity shaking slightly from the impact. 

“Fuck,” Hueningkai grunts, brows furrowed together as he watches himself disappear inside you, “So perfect. Pussy was made for me, look how good you take it.”

The two only laugh as you let out a weak whine at the praise— they’ve got you figured out good, and you’re meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror as you catch him staring at you, stroking his cock at a slow pace as he simply gives you a teasing grin.

“Why don’t you watch the way Huening fucks you, pretty?” He asks, and your eyes flicker back to the sight he’s talking about, meeting Huenigkai’s eyes as he simply sends you a coy smile, “You look so perfect like this— bent over the desk like a pretty doll, perfect for us to use… isn’t that right?”

Before you can moan out a muffled response, a sharp knock on the door takes your attention; you’re jolting to try and get Huening off you in a hurry, but the boy merely retaliates by pulling you back against him, colliding against his chest and letting out a weak whimper at the feeling of him rutting his hips up into you— watch, he growls into your ear, grinning with satisfaction as you immediately follow his orders.

“Yeah?” Taehyun calls out, his tone much too casual for someone who’s watching his fellow band member fuck the cute staff member the two have been pining for. 

“Have you seen ___ anywhere? The makeup artist?” It’s Soobin, you all realize, your reaction of horror greatly contrasting the way the two merely smile casually at the realization, “They’ve been looking for her, and I thought you two would know where she might be.”

“Uhhhhm…” Taehyun draws out, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches the way Hueningkai continues to fuck you, fingers digging into your cheeks as his eyes widen at the way you’ve begun to squirm from his grip, your orgasm approaching as you try to grind your hips in search for more stimulation. 

“If we knew where she was at, we’d probably be there bothering her,” Taehyun jokes, a crooked smile on his face as he listens to the way Soobin scoffs on the other side, “But seriously, we’re changing right now. She finished our makeup a while ago, we haven’t seen her.”

A moment passes; you think you might explode from how hard you’re trying to hold back your orgasm, but Hueningkai seems to be hellbent on making you cum from the way his free hand goes to circle your clit, your mouth falling open as you practically shake from the feeling. 

“Well…” another pause— Soobin sighs, and Taehyun can already picture the man running a hand through his hair on the other side of the door, “Let me know if you find her.”

After a moment, his footsteps fade entirely— it’s only then that Hueningkai bends you over once more, grabbing your hips and using this as leverage to fuck you back into him as you whimper that you’re close— seconds after, you’re squeezing Hueningkai so hard he thinks his cock might slip out, fucking you through your orgasm as your legs simply tremble from the intensity of it all. 

“Did that get you off, baby?” Hueningkai murmurs, his hips beginning to stutter as he watches you lay against the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood as you only let out weak whines in response, “Knowing we were about to get caught? Is that what made you cum, cutie?”

In a pathetic attempt to dodge his question, you bury your head in your arms— the man behind you simply laughs, pressing on the small of your back and grinding into you slowly, biting his lip at the sight. 

“Want me to cum inside? Fill you up and have it leak down your legs, making people wonder just where you disappeared to for so long?” frantically, you nod; you’re pressing your ass back against him, trying to fuck back into him as Hueningkai only groans at the sight— moments later, you’re practically biting through your lip from the feeling of him filling you up so well, trying his best to fuck his cum back into you the moment it begins to drip back out. 

A moment passes where the two of you simply remain still, attempting to regain your breaths— then, you hear sounds of shuffling and footsteps, and you’re meekly raising your head from your arms to watch as Taehyun approaches the two of you with a teasing smile.

“You should go get cleaned up and change,” Taehyun says, tapping your ass with a smile, “It’s my turn now, isn’t that right baby?”

Hueningkai rolls his eyes at the other’s antics— then, he’s slowly pulling out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s grabbing your face and bringing you up for a kiss— it’s slow and sensual, his plump lips addicting as he sneaks his tongue in for a taste of you— he’s reluctant to pull away, and only does so when you grip his shirt in your hands weakly and whine petulantly in his mouth— pulling away, he’s sending you a soft smile, taking in the sight of your shining and swollen lips before he’s telling you I’ll be right back— Taehyun rolls his eyes at his words. 

“Tell me,” Taehyun begins, bending you over once more and keeping his head next to yours, encouraging you to hold eye contact with him as he smiles softly— his index and middle finger are slowly massaging up and down your slit, and you let out a weak whimper at the feeling of him gathering the cum that’s leaking out of you before he’s pushing it back in slowly, “What would you fantasize about? I’d love to try it out on you.”

He won’t do anything until he hears your confession— a sign that you really did want them all along, forcing himself to tease you instead as he takes in the way you begin to break slowly, your hips attempting to chase pleasure, only to be stopped by Taehyun’s firm grip on your hip. 

“I could do so many things to you,” he mutters softly, placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder before he continues, “All you have to do is tell me.”

Fuck, where do you even begin? All the things you’ve ever thought about these two boys were reserved for the dark hours of the night when you couldn’t control your wandering mind, never to be revealed as you always told yourself you’d take this attraction to your grave— but now, as you feel Taehyun’s fingertips continuously dip into your entrance teasingly, able to feel the way some of Hueningkai’s cum has already run down your thighs, you really can’t be blamed for the way Taehyun’s sparkling doe eyes are able to extract the words from you without a second thought.

“Thought of riding you while I did your makeup,” you whimpered out pathetically, the confession enough to make your face feel like it was on fire— Taehyun, however, thinks the image might just make him cum on the spot, so he doesn’t have it in him to be apologetic as he quickly guides you back to his makeup chair and makes you hover over him.

“Well? What’re you waiting for?” He asks breathlessly, straddling his lap and staring down at him with wide eyes as he keeps his hands on your waist, having yet to find release as he feels his cock straining painfully against his sweats, “Now’s your chance, cutie.”

You stare at Taehyun— at his smudged makeup, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes that are blown open with need— and nod meekly, your hand reaching to take him out before you’re lining him up with your entrance, brows furrowing slightly as you properly take in his size.

That does little to hinder you; the way you sink on Taehyun is fucking painfully slow, and the said man is cursing in your ear as he feels the way you clench around him, your and Hueningkai’s release already coating his dick and making a mess of the chair as you stare at him with bleary eyes. 

“Don’t you need to fix my makeup?” Taehyun asks, his voice a bit strained from the effort to not pound into you recklessly— cluelessly, you nod, your expression making Taehyun let out a breathy laugh, “Do what you need to— I’ll do all the hard work, pretty thing.”

You’re unsure of what he may mean until he’s nodding back at the makeup case behind you— letting out a soft oh, you reach for your supplies, shaky hands taking what you need before you’re turning back to Taehyun. 

His hands are on the swell of your ass, smiling fondly at you before he begins to buck his hips up into you— softly at first, giving you the illusion that he’ll actually let you work, then becoming rougher as he watches the way your expression breaks, coherence leaving your eyes as you simply look at him with bleary, clueless eyes— your actions are oh so slow as you try to touch up on his makeup, trying your best to not make things worse than they already are— but the task seems to be impossible with the way Taehyun fucks you, biting his lip and guiding your hips up and down to get you to ride him as well, already noticing a second orgasm building up from the way you help him out eagerly. 

“Tyun,” you whimper out, makeup supplies in your fists as you place them firmly on his chest, “This isn’t working— I can’t… ah…!”

You’re interrupted mid-sentence as you’re finally coming undone on top of him— the makeup supplies in your hands dig into your skin from how hard you grip onto them, a weak, choked moan escaping you as Taehyun only continues to fuck you through it, not slowing down even after you’ve ridden out your high, going back to whining that you can’t do it, it’s too hard— too much.

“Yes you can,” he grins, taking in the way you only shake your head with satisfaction, “Okay then, can you hold out until I cum then? Can you be good for me, pretty girl?”

You don’t hesitate to nod at that; it has Taehyun laughing before it’s choked off into a moan, finally able to use you to his liking as he begins to fuck you rougher— shit… you hear him groan, and one look at him is enough to tell you that he’s staring at the sight in the mirror behind you— taking in how pretty you look as you bounce on his cock, hands desperately holding onto him as you tuck your head into his shoulder— The feeling of your lips sucking absentmindedly at his skin is enough to set him off, bottoming out inside you and groaning at the way his cum spurts inside you, barely able to stay in from how full you already are. 

Gradually, his pace slows down to nothing but a slow grind— you’re attempting to regain your breath once you finally sit up, still perched prettily on his cock as you begin to touch up his makeup with shaky hands. 

“Hmm? That’s unfair,” Hueningkai’s sudden voice has your head snapping up, looking to where he stands as he taps a finger at his collarbone, “Why didn’t I get one of those?”

Your eyes widen as you’re turning back to Taehyun at break-neck speed— sure enough, you’ve left a mark, and you can already feel your stomach sinking at the thought of having to cover that up. 

“Relax, our outfits are pretty covered,” Taehyun scoffs, reading your expression with a playful roll of his eyes, “But I wouldn’t really mind having others see it.”

“No fair, can I get one?” Hueningkai pouts, even more so when you deny him shyly, focusing on your task and pretending as though you’re currently not sitting firmly on Taehyun’s cock with both their cum leaking out of you.

“Baby,” Hueningkai calls out softly, making you turn your head as he captures you in another kiss— it’s even messier than last time, which you really didn’t think was possible as you’re left panting for breath once he pulls away, your eyes widening at the lopsided grin he sends you. 

“Fix my makeup next?”

Fuck, they’ll miss their damn show at this point. 

[waldau-archived]

congrats on your new milestone!! i really enjoy reading your work♡ could i please request mingyu+'we're in completely different leagues'+'i'm not sober enough to talk about this'

just the two of us — kim mingyu | 7,009 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i typed up a mammoth sized story (to me, at least) because i had so many thoughts. behold my longest fic ever written, patiently beta-read by the wonderful @tomodachiii. thank you for your help, tomo! ily <3 and thank you, anon, for your request!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader has massive self-doubt, gets drunk halfway through the story.

“the next time i even think of going on a date, just take my phone and force me to go out on a walk. reconnect with nature. touch some grass, maybe,” you say, kicking your feet against mingyu’s cupboard from where you’re sat on his counter.

“did you have a bad date i wasn’t aware of? was it the guy with the blue streaks?” mingyu asks, pushing the bowl of cake batter towards you. he never shies away from reminding you of the repercussions of having raw dough — that too in excruciating detail. salmonella. e. coli. things he could skip but doesn’t, just because he likes annoying you.

he lets it slide this time. you’re allowed just one big spoon, and the next time you’ll see the rest of it is when it’s baked and topped off with handmade frosting. courtesy of kim mingyu. your best friend as well as part-time chef.

“…no.”

“don’t lie to me,” he says, tilting his head. “you wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.”

“ugh. it’s just that…every time i even think of going out on a date, i have to reset my expectations. because men can’t clear the bar, no matter how low it is.”

you take a nibble from the spoon, and it tastes so damn good. it’s crazy how mingyu manages to find time to make new recipes and perfect them despite being a world-famous model that’s modelled for almost every major fashion house. you’ve lost count of how many magazines he’s been on.

it started out as a joke when you complained about all the magazines for his first ever gig having sold out. he’d taken it upon himself to get you a very special, signed copy that you have on display with the rest of the books in your glass bookcase. just the one, though. the rest of them are all piled up under your coffee table, much to mingyu’s chagrin. at least they’re in chronological order. and you’re making sure they’re not collecting dust.

that first edition is pretty much the only thing mingyu ever teases you about, tattered as it is, and on display for whoever comes to visit you. but you’d never get rid of it, not even for a new copy. it’s a milestone mingyu deserves to be celebrated for.

“does it taste good?” he asks with a small smile and a nervous smile. as if you’d have anything except praises to heap on him. this isn’t even the first time you wonder if he’d talk like this to you if you were together — endless smiles and warm cuddles under the covers and conversations about the most random things and stolen hoodies because you’re actually dating, and not just you being a guilty friend whose imagination runs a bit wild sometimes.

he does all of those with you. but he just doesn’t like you the way you like him.

how would he be, when he’s the kim mingyu? he has his fans falling to their feet if he so much as posts a picture of his hand. he’s the most charming human being you know. he’s tall not just because of his genes but also because of all the love he holds for everyone he knows.

you’re another moon that gets to orbit in the path of the admirable planet that he is.

sometimes you don’t even know how you managed to remain friends with him after university ended. the two of you started off as being part of the same friend group, having a few shared classes and some interests that kept the two of you together apart from your friends. by the time you graduated, both of you knew enough about each other to be able to hang out without needing your mutual friends. and it was hardly your fault that you felt drawn to how warm mingyu was, how easy it was to talk to him, and how happy you felt just by being around him.

so when it came to the topic of finding a place to live, the two of you decided it would be better for you to be roommates than find a complete stranger to share a living space with, and you went from friends to best friends soon after that.

mingyu’s always been your support system for whatever you’ve wanted to do, encouraging you to do what you wanted, regardless of how it would turn out or what others would think of it. in the same way, it wasn’t anything when you encouraged him to try out a modelling gig he’d signed up for and was unsure of how he’d fare.

long story short, the shoot was a pretty good success, and soon enough he got multiple gigs, managed to earn enough money to move into a bigger house, and even offered to pay your part of the rent because he wanted you to live with him — something that made you smack him.

you no longer live together now, mainly because of mingyu’s insistence on not wanting to disturb your sleep and your daily routine with all the schedules that keep him flying over the world. you did miss the breakfast he’d make for the two you every morning, and you’d managed to work out a compromise where mingyu became your personal chef on saturdays just so he’d have some time to spend with you.

it’s far from the worst arrangement in the world, and moments like these — him putting icing on your nose — make you realize how lucky you are to have him. you generally watch movies together, or he teaches you recipes, or he listens to you talk about your life, reciprocating with his own stories. things haven’t changed that much, even though you don’t live together anymore.

but part of you wishes things did change. that mingyu would, just once, look at you the way you look at him. it’s a wonder he hasn’t once caught you staring at him, because you’ve done that more times than you can count. but you can’t help it, because he just so happens to be your whole world.

but how long is this utopia going to last for? when is he going to realize you’re just plain old you, and that maybe he’s suited for more glamorous company? people who can probably pronounce the names of all his fashion houses correctly, people he models with, people that can hang off his arm and look like they belong there? not people who like wearing shorts and an old shirt as pyjamas and have bouts of self-doubt strong enough to crush entire mountains?

“…is it that good? you zoned out a bit there,” mingyu says, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

you blink out of your daydreams. it’s not even his fault that you’re so head over heels for him, although it kind of is. no one asked him to be so good looking and polite and so damn lovely that it became easy to imagine a future with him. just like lee youngji can imagine having a future with hong jisoo because he opened a carton of milk for her, you wonder how you haven’t yet succumbed to those thoughts when mingyu is such a big part of your life. you wonder at what point you knew you were fucked.

maybe it was when you and mingyu became friends, although you’ll never know for sure.

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“your ego doesn’t need to get any bigger,” you quip, finishing off the rest of your spoon.

he just laughs. “good to know. let’s just wait for an hour till it finishes baking, okay?” he hands you a baking sheet to line the pan with. you work in silence as he fiddles with the knobs on the oven, ladling out the batter into the pan and sticking it inside once the oven’s warmed up enough.

“want to do something while it bakes? watch a movie?”

“i was thinking we could go for a walk,” mingyu says, taking off his apron. he looks ridiculous, a hulking six foot two man wearing an apron that’s comically small for him, but he takes kitchen etiquette very safely. he hangs it up on the hook behind the door. “the weather’s good, and i don’t think i’ve been out for a walk in a while.”

“what about all those texts you sent me about missing bobpul? i wonder what your fans would’ve thought of that.”

“you’re not supposed to bring that up,” he whines, and you can’t help the giggle that makes its way to your face. he’s a grown man. and he’s the most adorable one you know. “that was a moment of weakness.”

“and you trusted me with it.”

“because i trust you.”

“i…fine,” you sigh, because what can you really say to that? “it’s cute, that’s all.”

mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. “you think i’m cute?”

“i swear—”

“kidding!” he walks you out of the kitchen, hands on your shoulders, and you love it as much as you wish he didn’t do it. “we’ll be back within the hour. the cake should be ready by then.”

he hands you one of his hoodies that’s lying on the sofa before you head out. you look up at him when he presses the fabric into your hands.

“it’s cold,” he explains, but it’s muffled by the messy way he’s pulling his hoodie over his head.

“and i can deal with the cold just fine.”

“no, you’re going to stick your cold toes on my legs when we sit down to eat, and i’m not going to bear that. even if you’re my best friend.”

and no matter what excuse you make to avoid wearing mingyu’s clothes, it’s never enough. he has to see you bundled up to make sure you’re not going to freeze in front of him, although that’s a tad bit dramatic. this is one of his newer hoodies, and you can tell by the way it doesn’t smell like him just yet. maybe it’s a good thing. maybe you can stop thinking about him like that. one step at a time.

“some best friend you are,” you mumble, wearing your shoes. you look up and mingyu’s frowning at you. not the usual way; there’s a tiny frown that would’ve been imperceptible if you didn’t know him the way you do, but you’re not going to ask what’s up. he tells you things if they’re really bothering him, so you’re going to let him let you know in his own time.

he wasn’t wrong. it really is windy. you’re glad he made you wear the hoodie. you pull the sweater paws over your palms, loving the way your palms instantly become warm. mingyu flips the hood over your head and you’re about to thank him for it before he draws the strings together and ends up blacking out your vision. he finds it funny for about two seconds till you stumble blindly and end up jostling him in the stomach.

he's still wincing when you undo the strings, and you can’t help but laugh. “sorry, gyu.”

“are you, though?”

“…no.”

“thought so.”

“was it my fault?”

“no,” he says, and smiles, and you feel your heart flutter again. “not your fault.” it’s so pretty. even his smile’s so pretty. you love his canines, his little fangs that he feels weird about sometimes. if it were up to you, you’d do anything to make him love them just as much as you did, even if that something were kissing.

whoa. not again. not when he’s with you.

“so, about failed dates,” he says, looking at you. “are you actually looking for something, or do you just…go on them to pass your time?”

mingyu does this thing where he can read you to filth without even trying. it’s like he knows what’s running in your mind, or at least has the vaguest idea of it, and he says things that are basically truths you don’t want to admit to yourself out of fear of not knowing what to do about them.

“why does it matter?” you ask, a bit defensive.

he frowns. again, that little frown. you wish you could remove it. “because there’s so many other things you could be doing to spend time instead of creeping yourself out every time you go on a date. and you don’t need to keep getting yourself hurt like that if it isn’t leading to anything.”

“are you dating someone?”

mingyu pffts. “what, i can’t have advice for you without being in a relationship?”

“no,” you say immediately, backtracking. of course he can. “sorry. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but…”

“but?”

“i just wish i—”

you’re cut off by the sudden bark of a dog. you look around to find the source of the sound only to see a dog running around in circles with its leash in its mouth. it looks adorable.

“hey, buddy,” you say, crouching down in front of it. it looks up at you and barks. a happy little yip! before it continues running along in circles.

“are you lost?” mingyu asks softly, crouching down next to you. he reaches out a hand to pet its head, and the puppy leans into his touch completely. it looks familiar for some reason.

“do you have any idea whose dog this is?” mingyu asks. you shake your head. maybe you’ve seen a dog like this, not the dog itself, but you’re really not sure. he’s in the process of searching the dog’s collar, but someone yelling in the distance makes him pause. he gets up and tugs the dog by its collar. it has the name tag jamie inscribed on it.

the person yelling out for jamie is none other than one of your neighbours. you know her well. as well as you can for someone you don’t interact much with. not if you can help it.

she’s the kind of neighbour that always pokes her nose into matters that don’t bother her, the neighbour that outright shows she’s not interested in something if it doesn’t get her anything. the two times you tried to initiate a conversation with her as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor are a stark reminder of the fact that she’s not the kind of person you’d ever be friends with. you don’t know what you’ve done to rub her the wrong way, but she doesn’t look like she’ll even give you a chance.

you watch as mingyu hands over the dog to her, and once she’s done making sure jamie’s okay, she looks him up and down.

you don’t blame her. you’d do the same, a bit more subtly, but it does sting to see the way she’s probably the kind of person he should be hanging out with.

“thanks for finding jamie,” she says, all smiles. she really doesn’t need to be smiling that much.

“no worries,” mingyu says with a smile of his own. “and it wasn’t me who found jamie, by the way. it was them.” he points to you with a jerk of his thumb. you smile at her, but feel icy inside when she looks you up ad down.

“oh. are they your…” she trails off with a smile on her face that screams no fucking way. you suddenly wish you could just run back to your apartment and leave the two of them down here.

“partner? you think so?”

“just…you two look like opposites, that’s all. sometimes opposites don’t attract, but you never know. life’s funny sometimes.” she simpers a little, and your hands ball up into fists by your side.

what you don’t expect is for mingyu to throw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into himself. “yes, actually,” he says, leaning into you in a way that most definitely exaggerates your height difference. “you could call them my better half. and don’t they look good in this hoodie? it’s mine, by the way,” he says, and you can recognize the smile on his face — it’s a fake one, the corporate one he adopts when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.

his words keep buzzing in your mind as you walk past your neighbour and back upstairs to your apartment. he’d said you were a couple so easily, even though you were not. better half? really? the way he’d leaned into you so easily, the fact that he told her it was his hoodie. it’s…weird. and too much for you.

you don’t speak much as you help mingyu remove the cake from the oven, getting it ready for frosting. he manages to get an indignant sound when he manages to get some on your cheek this time, but the rest of the evening is spent thinking about the interaction you had.

is it really so unbelievable for people to imagine the two of you together?

“hey,” he says, bumping your side with his. except he miscalculates his strength (or does it on purpose) and ends up making you stumble a few steps away from him. you don’t even have it in you to be mad when you see the giggle on his face. “you good?”

“yes. sorry,” you say, opening the refrigerator to take out the food mingyu had made last night. he cooks enough to feed a family of four even though you’re the only one that lives at your place, so it’s useful for when you don’t feel like cooking.

“who was she?” mingyu asks, setting down the plates on the table. “a friend?”

you shudder at the thought of her being your friend. “a neighbour. she lives in the flat down mine. she’s not really the kind of person i’d be friends with, but jamie’s cute. i keep seeing him around sometimes.”

“hmm.” you get the smell of reheated noodles as mingyu works at the stove. “she was…weird.”

“that’s an understatement.”

“is she always like that?”

“rude?”

“yeah. that’s not something you’d say to a couple you see, even if you don’t like them.”

“she certainly doesn’t seem to care,” you say, a bit more forceful than necessary, setting down two glasses as well.

“well, i think we’d make a cute couple,” mingyu says, a little smile on his face as he reaches out to ruffle your hair.

you swear your heart dies a little right then and there. you stare at him unblinkingly. “do you ever hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?” you ask, regaining your bearings and filling the glasses with water.

“sorry,” mingyu says, sheepishly. “i just don’t like the idea of anyone talking like that. especially with you. especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

your heart warms at that. “thank you, gyu,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. bad idea. you’d forgotten how much he’s been working out recently, and how big he is. “i’m glad i could one-up her this time.”

“just call me the next time you want to do it again.”

“yeah, sure.”

the rest of the night is spent watching this show that’s been on your watchlist for a while, and you don’t mind if mingyu conks out in the middle of it.

sure enough, you hear his soft snores after you finish your dessert, and you turn to see this big man that’s also your best friend craning his neck on the sofa as he tries to keep himself in the blanket that’s certainly not big enough for the two of you.

sometimes you wonder if he’d cuddle with you to save space and keep himself warm, and this also happens to be one of those times. You get up and reposition him as gently as you can, so that his back doesn’t hurt in the morning. His nose twitches when you rest a hand on his hair, wishing him a silent goodnight.

It's not the first time you wish you could kiss him, dangerous as that thought is.

you can’t stop thinking about the interaction you had a few days ago. sure, your neighbour isn’t someone whose behaviour you’d count on to matter, but was she right when she said she can’t see two people like you together? people as opposite to each other as you and mingyu?

sure, you’re not the usual kind of crowd he hangs out with, but is it so bad to imagine something between the two of you? was that just the sign to stop thinking about mingyu, get over him and resign yourself to a life without love?

as much as you complain about going on dates, there’s something that’s your fault too — you look for mingyu everywhere. none of the men you’ve gone on dates with are mingyu, and that’s the crux of the problem. none of them smile the way he does, none of them give you their jacket when you’re feeling cold, and it’s unfair for you to expect them to understand everything about you.

you can’t have mingyu, and you’re going to have to learn to accept that.

Which is why you’re at this party with your friend seungkwan. it’s not your usual scene — you’d much rather be curled up in bed with a book and some takeout, or cleaning your bookshelf while listening to music on the television — but you’re not complaining. seungkwan was right. you need to let go once in a while, just enjoy yourself before you inevitably spend weeks together keeping to yourself, immersed in your work.

“dance with me!” seungkwan yells out to you over the din of the crowd.

“i can’t dance! not like you!”

“that hardly matters! let’s have some fun, come on!”

seungkwan is nothing if not persistent. finishing off the last of the drink, you let him lead you out onto the dance floor. he rests his hands on your shoulders as he sways you to the music. it’s fast paced and something you’d be caught doing in the privacy of your own house, your own little concert, and for once you don’t care about the fact that people can see you. you’re lost in your own little world with seungkwan, and more importantly, you’re happy. the stress of whatever the fuck happened last week between you and mingyu, with him calling himself your boyfriend without knowing how down bad you are for him, is pushed to the back of your mind as the beat changes. seungkwan starts clapping to the rhythm, making you realize you’re dancing by yourself.

you’re not half bad at this. a little under confident, sure, but not bad. you could try making this a monthly thing and having fun with it.

eventually you end up too exhausted to dance to another song, and seungkwan guides you to a seat, your shoes in his hand as he asks you to catch your breath and wait for a while more till he finishes dancing with some other people.

you’ve ordered a basic drink for yourself when someone slides in next to you. you don’t pay them much attention, focusing on relaxing a bit and finishing your drink, but you have to turn around and look at them when you can actually feel their eyes piercing into your side and— boy, is he a sight for sore eyes.

he looks boyishly handsome, completely in place in this club as he watches you with his chin resting in his hand, eyes glinting in the light of the fixture above the two of you. he’s pretty, and just as handsome, and his eyes are the loveliest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

“saw you dancing out there,” he says, his words a bit of a drawl, and accented. “you were pretty good.”

“you don’t need to lie if you’re trying to flirt,” you jest, finishing your drink.

“i’m not in the habit of lying,” he says, smiling at you. “you looked like you were having fun.”

“i…was, actually,” you say. he’s still smiling, looking at you like he’s searching for something in your eyes. you feel warm. gosh.

“can i get you another drink?”

“no, thank you, actually. i need my head to remain intact if i want to get home in one piece.”

“suit yourself,” he nods, and asks the bartender for the same drink you had. the bar is in hell, but you’re impressed he backed off immediately. you watch as he makes quick work of his drink.

“so, you come here often?” he asks, wiping the back of his mouth.

“not really. my friend dragged me out tonight because he felt i needed a break from my life.”

“just a friend?” he asks, eyes following your line of vision to see seungkwan still dancing with some strangers, looking like he’s having fun.

“why, you interested?”

“depends on who you’re talking about.”

“him?”

“cute, but no.”

“me.”

“maybe.”

you trace the ring of condensation your drink’s left on the table. “but i’m not looking for anything, honestly. i’ve sworn off dating for a while.”

“that’s fine. we could just…talk.”

you look up at the man. you don’t know if this is his way of trying to get you to go home with him, but it’s the most genuine someone’s been. “you never told me your name, by the way.”

“me? vernon. nice to meet you.”

you give him your name in return, and like the way it rolls off his tongue.

“so…can i ask why you’ve sworn off dating?”

seungkwan’s still going to take a while, going by the previous times you’ve been here, and vernon definitely seems interested in talking to you.

“you ever…had a crush on your best friend?”

vernon winces — an actual wince, like he’s seen something terrible, and it makes you laugh. “yeah…once. it sucks.”

“exactly.”

“you’re trying to get over them?”

“trying being the keyword, yes.”

“then how are you trying to get over them if you’re not into dating?”

you sigh. vernon’s a perceptive one. “trying to think of other people even if i don’t necessarily go home with them. just anything to get my mind off him.”

“anything? how bored would you be if i started talking about why i think star wars is excessive but also misunderstood?”

you don’t find vernon boring, in fact. you find yourself drawn to him speaking, the way his eyes light up and his hands get a life of their own as he lists out every single point in aid of his stance, and encourages you to contribute to the conversation. it feels like he’s an old friend, and not someone you met hardly an hour ago. it’s fun.

“…so maybe we could go out to watch that movie? it’s coming out next week.”

“go out?”

“as friends, of course. i’m not looking to take someone home, either. if anything, i came here to keep my friends company, but…i think i lost them in the crowd.”

you look around, and seungkwan’s sitting at a table surrounded by a bunch of girls, and it makes you grin. he doesn’t need you sticking with him anymore.

“you were saying?”

“does next week work—”

“it doesn’t,” says a new voice. a familiar voice. there’s two hands on your shoulders, a familiar weight. “we’re hanging out at my place next week.”

“mingyu!” you exclaim, pulling him out from behind you. “don’t scare me like that.”

“sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “you have no idea how much time i spent searching for you only to find you hidden here.”

“why were you looking for me? how did you know i was here?”

he looks at you like you asked him something stupid. “because it’s late, and because seungkwan’s most definitely not driving you home.” ah. seungkwan must have asked mingyu to pick you up, given that he was your ride here.

“well,” you say, directing him towards your conversational partner. “this is vernon. my new friend.”

“hi,” he says, curt, and you frown. mingyu’s generally nicer.

“hey,” vernon says coolly. then he turns back to you. “can you give me your number? i’ll text you about it later, when you’re free. think i’ll search for them now.”

you hand vernon your own phone, given he’s had less drinks than you have, and it hardly takes a minute for him to enter his details before he saves his number and claps your shoulder, wishing you and mingyu a good night.

you find mingyu watching vernon making his way through the crowd. “so, who was that?”

“new friend. vernon. like i said.”

“a new friend? seriously? he just asked for your number.”

“so? he wasn’t hitting on me or anything. he just asked me so we could go see this movie we’ve been wanting to watch.”

mingyu’s eyebrows rise. “a movie? together? doesn’t that sound like…a date?”

you frown. “two friends can go watch movies, mingyu. don’t we do that all the time?”

“Yeah, but that’s because you know me. he’s just some random guy you met today. at a club.”

either mingyu’s being obtuse, or you’re not thinking correctly. “are you saying i don’t know how to read people’s intentions?”

“you’re drunk,” he says bluntly, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “you don’t know what he wants.”

something about his tone makes you angry. he wasn’t even here the whole evening. “as if you do. you didn’t speak to him at all, mingyu. you don’t even know what we talked about.”

“didn’t you say you wanted to stop going out on dates?”

the coldness in his voice makes you freeze. you’ve never heard him sound so hostile, not with you. “what do you mean?”

“why did i have to find out from seungkwan that you were out here at this club just a week after you asked me to make you touch grass if you so much as thought of a date?”

“but it wasn’t a date!” you exclaim, feeling more and more annoyed. to your horror, you feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “are you saying i’m—”

“you’re drunk. you don’t know what you want. did you seriously expect to make friends at the club of all places?”

this isn’t your mingyu. he’d never judge you the way he’s doing right now. you take his jacket and throw it on the counter, turning around and marching out. you’ll call a cab to take you to your place. you don’t need him dropping you home.

“hey,” mingyu calls out, jogging towards you, jacket in his hand. “it’s cold. take this, please?”

“i don’t care about what you have to say,” you sniff, wrapping your hands around yourself. “don’t talk to me.”

“listen, you can be angry with me all you want, but just take my jacket. i don’t want you freezing out here when you don’t need to be.”

“maybe you should’ve thought of that before saying all that shit to me,” you spit. “why do you want to talk to me now? just insult me some more, why don’t you?”

mingyu huffs, but says nothing. he just looks at you.

“come with me.”

“where?”

“to my car.”

“why should i?”

“i won’t leave you here by yourself. i want to make sure you’re safe. let me drop you home and you can be mad at me all you want. please.”

“what, your night’s going to be a waste unless i come with you?”

“no,” he says quietly, and it makes you pause. mingyu is anything but quiet. “It’s never a waste. but it’ll just put my mind at ease if i know you’re safe, okay?”

you see the logic in his words, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “fine,” you say, taking his jacket from him and slipping it on.

“thank you,” he says, opening the passenger door for you.

the drive to your place is quiet. you can tell mingyu wants to say something, start a conversation, but you keep your eyes resolutely fixed ahead.

“come on,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out when you reach your building. you follow him upstairs to your apartment. he unlocks the door for you and makes way for you to step inside first.

“do you need water? food? anything i can get?” he asks, taking off his shoes.

you turn around to look at him. he’s big, as always, but for once it feels like he’s taking up all the space in your apartment.

“i’m not that drunk,” you say finally.

he stands up straight to look at you. “but—”

“yes, i had some drinks, but i know my limit. i had my last one just before i started talking to vernon. i hate that you thought i wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”

he swallows. “i didn’t mean to undermine—”

“but you did! and you don’t know how terrible it feels. i’m not a baby, gyu. i know what i want and what i’m doing. i’m hurt. and,” you say, taking in a deep breath, “if you really want to know something, know this — we’re in completely different leagues.”

mingyu frowns. “what do you mean?”

“i—” there’s so much you mean. you can’t possibly recount all the thoughts you’ve had about feeling inadequate, all the nights you’ve spent wondering how long it’ll be before he realizes you’re not as cool as you should be. “i’m not sober enough to talk about this.”

“you just said you weren’t that drunk.”

“this is my home,” you say, a bit harsher than needed. “you got me here safe, and that’s all you wanted to do. this is me being mad at you, so if you respect me, you’re going to let me sleep. okay? goodnight, mingyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you hate how small his voice sounds. “sleep well.”

and you do sleep well. well enough that you sleep through your alarm, and wake up almost when it’s ten. at least it’s a saturday, so you’re not freaking out as you brush your teeth. you have some work to do today. and hanging out with mingyu is on the agenda as well, but you’re not sure if you’re keen on going through with it, especially after what happened last night.

if you were delusional, which you’re most definitely not, you’d say that mingyu had been jealous that you and vernon had exchanged numbers in front of him. except there’s no reason for him to be jealous. like he reminded you, you’re not looking for any relationships. there’s no one he has to compete with, so to speak.

so why was he that upset last night? and what about the things he’d said to you?

you’ve had fights before, fights that ended up with both of you not wanting to speak to each other, but this was different. he’d never been angry like this.

you’re the one who’s upset, you realize, as you walk to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. you’re going to talk it out with mingyu once your head is clearer, and you’re going to see what he has to say for himself.

except mingyu’s already here. you can smell the delicious scent of tteokbokki wafting through the room. mingyu’s set out two plates, two glasses — the usual. you’re feeling woefully under dressed in front of him in your pyjamas, despite the fact that he’s seen you like this multiple times before.

“morning,” he says. his voice is hesitant. It’s never hesitant.

“hi. morning.”

“slept well?”

“yeah, better than…what exactly are you doing here?”

“cooking you breakfast,” he says, waving his spatula around.

“i can see that. i meant here. in my place. didn’t you go back home after dropping me off?”

“no. i felt too tired to drive back home, so i decided to crash out on your couch. and i’m making you breakfast now. isn’t that a win-win?”

you can see one win, but you’re not sure what the other is. you take a seat at the table and pour yourself a glass of water, wearily trying to assess the situation. mingyu had pretty much scolded you last night. like a parent who didn’t trust you to make the right choices despite having free will. and now he’s cooking you breakfast like last night just didn’t happen.

“can i ask you something?” mingyu says, pushing a plate of tteokbokki towards you along with a pair of chopsticks.

“don’t think i can stop you, can i?”

mingyu huffs. “hey. if you’re upset with me, just say no.”

“what is it?”

“what did you mean by yourself being out of my league?”

you set your chopsticks down. “you’re serious? you’re really asking me that?”

he frowns. “yes.”

“mingyu, you called yourself my boyfriend a week back. your…better half.”

“that was to make your neighbour leave. she was being weird.”

“sure. and then we went back to life like nothing had even happened.”

“because…it hadn’t? i thought we talked it out that night itself? what happened now?”

“i don’t think you understand how that made me feel. especially when you said—” you say, voice trembling. “you called yourself my boyfriend last week. like it’s something you throw around naturally. and last night you acted all…weird, as if i wasn’t allowed to have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t you. why are you so confusing?”

“would you hear me out if i said i had a reason?”

“you’d better have a damn good reason.”

mingyu sets down his glass and looks at you. “i’m sorry for everything i said yesterday. i truly am. i didn’t mean any of it. i was just…jealous.”

that catches your attention. “jealous? of?”

“that guy. vernon. you seemed like you were having a good time talking to him and i thought about how if you got together you’d probably leave our relationship behind because you liked him so much.”

“whoa. slow down. i told you i wasn’t looking—”

“you weren’t. i know that. but the way you looked at him made me feel something.”

“what?”

“i’m saying…” mingyu takes in a deep breath, and focuses on something past your shoulder. not meeting your eyes. “i’m saying i like you.”

you blink. “i’m sorry?”

“i like you, and i was jealous because you seemed to be having so much fun talking to him. if you have to know, there’s no guy who possibly deserves you. i’m not saying i do, either, but i’ll try my best to be the guy you deserve.”

it’s still too early in the day for this. “stop joking, mingyu. i don’t want to go through it again. just—”

“i’m not!” he exclaims, coming over to your side of the table. “thinking i could be with anyone i wanted is a bold thing to say. how do you think i feel every time i go out for company dinners but all i want to do is spend time with you? have you as my plus one every time?”

your heart’s fluttering very fast. you feel almost breathless. “i wouldn’t even look that good by your side.”

“says you. have you ever seen yourself?”

“i have, actually, and i look—”

“so gorgeous,” mingyu cuts you off, eyes twinkling as he says so. as though he’d been holding onto it for so long and finally found the right time to release it. “you look exactly like the person i want to spend every single day of my life with.”

you almost expect cameras to pop up out of nowhere and film your reaction to what he’s just said. “the…rest of your life? you do know that’s…a long time, right?”

“i do. and i’ve already spent four years with you. eight, if you’re counting the time before we became best friends.”

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. what he’s offering is so close to you, just an arm’s length away, but you can’t convince yourself to reach out for it. you hide your face in your hands. “gyu…”

“i’m serious,” he says, gently peeling your hands from your face. his hands are so warm as he holds yours, and his boba eyes are so close to yours. he’s adorable. “give me one chance?”

“what if we…mess this up? what if you realize i’m not that fun to hang out with every single day?”

“what if you realize everything you're thinking is wrong? what if you realize there’s no way i’m going to let things go wrong, especially when it comes to you?”

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what the future holds in store, and you have no answers to your questions just like you don’t have answers to his.

“i know you think…not so greatly of yourself sometimes,” mingyu says, squeezing your hands. “and i want to be here to tell you that everything you think in that regard is wrong. i like you because you’re you. why do you think you’re the only one who’s been my best friend for so long? you’re the only one i can be myself around completely. tell me you know that.”

“i…didn’t know that.”

“then i clearly didn’t do a very good job at being your best friend. maybe i can fix that now.”

now. now that mingyu likes you. now that you have the chance to see your relationship blossom into something more.

“you’re not even going to ask me if i like you?”

a slow blush spreads across mingyu’s face. “shit, sorry. um, do you…like me?”

“of course i like you, gyu,” you smile, feeling giddy at the way he gets redder.

“good. can i, um, be your boyfriend, then? would you like that?”

“you’re not taking me out on a date first?”

mingyu’s eyes shine and he leans in till his nose is inches away from yours. “hi,” he whispers, and you actually whimper when his lips brush yours the slightest bit. embarrassing. mingyu doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“g-good morning, gyu.”

“the best, actually. even better if you let me take you out on a date today.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[spockandawe]

Right, here's something new! This is the novel Sacred And Terrible Air by Robert Kurvitz, the writer behind Disco Elysium, set in the same alternate universe. The original is written in Estonian, and there's been talk of licensing a translation, but that was supposed to happen in 2020, and given the time lapse since then and other events, it looks increasingly unlikely. So earlier this year, two fan translations dropped! As the fans involved say, definitely support an official translation if it happens, but if it doesn't happen, at least there's this. One translation is by a hired translator, and one is by Group Ibex as MTL that went through iterative edits. And something that's very interesting to me given how much time I've spent wallowing in the danmei pit, I couldn't identify which one i definitely liked BETTER. So rather than wrestling decision paralysis, here we are!

Dos-a-dos time, babey! I did one of these in VERY small size for binderary, but other than that, I think the only time I've done this is for my sixfold/fourteenfold experiments? It's very pleasing to have one in my hands that's so substantial. There's 350ish pages on either side of this, and I love it a lot!

It does feature one easter egg that's a special treat for me. When I was trying to pull together the front matter and scrounging for info about the original Estonian novel, google translate gave me some... interesting takes on the title, and I took my favorite (holy and terrible smell) and tucked it inside my endpapers. To build on the stack of in-jokes that will be inscrutable to anyone who stumbles on this book later, I scented the spines of the books with perfume, 'the sea foams milk,' both because the scent felt right for this and because the name felt thematically appropriate

I had a very fun time with this! The formatting took more time than I expected, but the actual binding was nice and relaxing. I don't cover many covers with paper, but this paper was so PERFECT for the story, and then I got excited about matching the endpapers to covers, and the bookcloth spine was a flawless color match, and this all came together so nicely! It was a great little project, and I had a great time making it :D

[moonchildstyles]

I saw you were talking about curious gazes stuff.... is citrine a part of that group 🧍‍♀️

wordcount: 2.6k+

——————

Parker kept his eyes on his phone, rereading his new text notification over and over even when the bell above his head jingled as he walked through the door of the record shop. 

Annie asked if he was going to be at Vera's party tonight. She asked him if she could go with him.

His cheeks almost ached from the width of the smile on his face. Maybe tonight would be the night—maybe he'd finally get the courage to ask her on a real date instead of all these friendly group outings. 

Parker pulled his gaze up only when he heard the familiar voice of the shop attendant, catching the wide smile on the man's face. It was the same man every time Parker came in, his name starting with an H (it was Harry, or Henry, or something in that universe but he could never remember and felt too shy to ask for clarification at this point). He knew so much about all of the records and the artists behind them, it was always interesting when Parker wasn't in too much of a rush and could talk to the guy. 

"Good afternoon! How are you?" he asked, the glimmering fabric of his top shimmering from the light spilling in from the large windows. 

"I'm good, man. Thanks," Parker greeted, feeling infectiously happy at the moment, "How are you?" 

"I'm doing really well, thank you," Harry (maybe?) said, dimples in his cheeks, "Are y'looking for anything specific today?" 

Shrugging, Parker shook his head. "Not really, just wanted to look and see if I can find something new." 

Harry perked up at the sound of something new being in need, a dark curl falling over his forehead. "We got a bunch of second hand records in the other day. It's mostly older albums, but 'm sure there's something you'd like. Let me know if you want any help or have any questions." 

Typically, Parker wouldn't mind asking a few questions, especially about the more vintage artists and pressings around the shop, but his mind was still buried deep in his phone. "I will, man. Thanks." 

With that, Parker drifted between the shelves that marked out the aisles in the small shop. Huddled between a pair of shelves holding different records and elaborate displays with special edition pressings, he pulled his phone out once again. Annie's thread was still open, her two texts shining in a beautiful, shining, hopeful blue. 

ur going to v's tngiht right ? 

if u want we could go together :) 

He'd never seen a string of letters look so perfect. It was like he was reading poetry. 

His fingers held a tremor as he texted her back. He attempted to play it cool, but of course he wanted to go with her. He would have given anything to enter that party under the label of being together with Annie. 

Sure! I have to do some homework tonight, but I'll be heading over there at around eight. Does that work for you? 

Shooting off the message, Parker felt conflicted about staring and waiting for the messages to be read with another set of preemptive bubbles filling where her next message would be, or locking his phone and not being so desperate for a single text. 

When the receipts didn't immediately switch to show that it had been read with another time stamp, Parker forced himself to lock the screen and shove his phone back into his pocket. Around him, colorful records asked to steal his attention, to put him back on track and remind him why he came to the shop in the first place. 

It was his sister's birthday next week and he wanted to pick out a couple of records for her since their mom was gifting her a player as well. (And, there was an album or two Parker had been looking at that he really hoped the shop carried). Forcing his mind off of his phone, he took his time perusing through the shelfs for anything special he knew she liked before he would start looking through the crates for something vintage she could brag to her friends about. 

Across the space, the bell dinged again, another customer stopping by. 

Instead of the usual greeting Harry offered to all guests, Parker heard a giddy sigh of, "Sunshine!" ring from the head of the shop. 

Lifting his gaze from where he was examining a record cover laden with roses and glimmering gold font, he saw a woman with a beaming smile making her way towards the register area. A plastic takeaway bag hung from her elbow, her hair pulled back with her outfit consisting of a logo'd shirt and black pants. The logo was familiar, from a restaurant deeper in the plaza that had margaritas that were a little too strong but cheap enough it didn't matter. 

"Hi, Harry," she greeted, opening her arms as Harry met her halfway and reciprocated her hug. 

The plastic bag crinkled over his shoulder but neither of them paid the food any mind as they wrapped around each other. Quiet whispers were shared between them, Harry's curls creating a small curtain so Parker couldn't even see what kind of reaction these secrets pulled from the newcomer. 

Instead, Parker only got to hear the sound of her laugh as she drew away from the hug. He felt a bit bad as he kept watching, but even when they shared a small kiss, he couldn't pull his eyes away. 

Harry had mentioned more than once these small details about his wife, interjecting that she loved a certain album, or that she recommended something new to him that he was now letting others in on. Truthfully, with who Harry was—so eccentric, extroverted in an introverted way, and seemingly from a different time—Parker had imagined his wife to be completely different than to who was standing before him. 

This woman seemed... normal. 

Not that it was a bad thing, or that Harry wasn't, but she wasn't draped in lace and gauze with jewels and glitter following her every step. She looked like she belonged in this century. 

He turned his attention back to the record in his hand a split second before she would have caught his stare. Though there was a track list right before him, he didn't read a single word, feeling a bit flustered knowing he had just witnessed what was most likely a private moment between the two of them. 

Parker couldn't help the way his mind went back to Annie. 

Would she visit him during her lunch? Would they embrace like that, without a care? What kind of secrets would she share with him? 

He couldn't help the minute check he made to his phone screen. 

No new notifications. 

Folding his phone back into his pocket, Parker directed his focus back onto his shopping. Meandering back towards the crates, he started flicking through the alphabetized stacks. 

With only a quiet album playing on the shop's record player—something crackly and old he didn't recognize but didn't mind—, he could hear the murmurings of the couple now huddled behind the register counter together. Though he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he didn't particularly try hard not to either. 

Straining an ear, he heard their hushed conversation over the music and quiet rustling of the plastic bag. 

"I can come back later, or save this for dinner," the woman said, "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey." 

"'S fine, dove, really," Harry insisted, his smile audible, "I know him—he's really nice. He won't mind, I promise. If he needs my help, I'll help." 

"But, H—" she tried again, only to be abruptly cut off. 

Maybe it was the romance on his mind, but Parker wondered if the soft sound he heard was another quiet kiss they shared. Harry's tactic to get his wife to let go of the argument. 

"It'll be fine, I promise. I've missed you all day, I don't want you to leave already." 

A plume of laughter could be heard alongside the laying out of styrofoam containers. The scent of warm food drifted through the shop. Parker's stomach piqued at the smell, reminding him the last time he ate was during breakfast. 

Maybe Annie would want to stop and get some dinner before the party. Or go for a late night snack after. 

Harry's wife's laugh pulls him out of the possibilities he was beginning to churn before he'd even received a text back. 

"We spent all morning together before you came here," she countered, her tone a gentle tease. 

"So?" Harry argued, quietly serious under his own joking tone, "'S not enough, and I've told you that before." 

A beat passed, the rustling of the bag filling the moment. "Well, I only have forty-five minutes left of my lunch, so you better make the most of it." 

Another set of hushed conversation sounded, words too quiet for him to hear. Parker figured with the scolding Harry! that left the wife's lips, he didn't really want to hear what had made them go quiet anyway. 

A vibration from his back pocket had Parker practically scrambling to reach for his phone and get the screen to light up.

Annie had texted him back. 

sounds good (: 

if its isnt to late by the time we r leavig we should get food or something 

Parker's heart just about soared right out of his chest towards the record player, the beats wishing to play their own love song in Annie's name. 

They were going to get food or something tonight, just like he hoped. 

Was this love? 

I was thinking the same thing! I'll see if I can finish up any sooner than eight, but I'll let you know when I'm on my way:) 

 There was so much Parker needed to do. 

Now the priority wasn't the set of essays he was planning on editing before he got ready for Vera's. These plants were now shifted, urging him to skip cleaning his apartment and instead rushing home to do his work then agonize over getting ready for the remainder of the evening. The cowlick on the crown of his head that had his hair sticking in weird places after every shower was going to be his prime enemy today. 

Focusing on the records before him, Parker skimmed through before grabbing a Fleetwood Mac album his sister would either love or let become a statement piece about how much of an old soul she was. Turning back to the shelves he reached for a foiled album, the band's name one he recognized but only vaguely through his sister's Spotify. He wasn't familiar with the artwork, but hopefully this was a good one. 

These two would have to do for now. If he needed to find a third, he'd do it later. Annie was waiting for him (in six hours, but the urgency still mattered). 

Taking his tiny stack to the register, he saw the bubbly couple huddled together sharing a container of French fries with their own respective sandwiches. When the woman realized Parker was approaching, she startled in her spot, immediately moving to get their meal out of the way of the register. 

"Sorry, sorry," she said, covering her mouth as she swallowed down the bite she'd taken just as he emerged from the shelves. Harry watched with a fond quirk to his lips though he didn't make any move to assist her move. 

"'S alright, love," he attempted to soothe her. While Harry was always purely friendly and full of a kind and giving spirit, Parker had never heard his voice take on the notes it did now. This man was in love with his wife—everything she did was special to him. 

"I don't mind," Parker jumped in, settling his records on the clear area of the desk, "I get it." 

"See, (Y/N)?" Harry pointed out, though he did begin straightening up and tapping at the register keys, "I told you he was cool." 

The woman—(Y/N), the name said with a reverence—didn't pay Harry's argument any mind, continuing to move their boxes out of the way for Parker. Harry shook his head, his green eyes lighting up with every glance her way. 

"You find everything alright?" Harry asked, sliding the records towards the inlaid scanner on the desk. Before Parker had a chance to answer, he saw Harry's face light up when he spotted the Fleetwood Mac record. "I didn't know you listened to them! Is this your favorite album?" 

Holding up the beige cover, complete with a familiar woman in pointe shoes and an unfamiliar man at her side, Harry looked to him with expectant eyes. 

"Um, this is actually a gift for my sister," Parker explained, feeling a bit bashful now that he let down Harry. "It's her birthday next week, and my mom is getting her a record player. I don't really listen to older music." 

Casting his gaze down at the album cover, Harry pursed his lips. "I guess it did come out in '77—feels like it was only last year, I forget sometimes." 

Parker canted his head. That was one of those things about Harry that had him assuming he was meant to exist long before this time. It wasn't the first time he made a comment like that. 

"If she likes that album," (Y/N) piped up from where she had stepped back to lean against the back counter, "you should get her some Stevie Nicks albums. She'd love them." 

Harry perked up with a smile on his lips, though he stayed quiet as he typed a few numbers into the register before the total popped up on Parker's end. 

"She's the singer from Fleetwood Mac, right?" Parker asked, sliding his card into the reader, "I didn't know she had her own music." 

"She's the best," Harry interjected, his words a clear praise of his idol, "Even if your sister doesn't get into it, y'should still try it out. Y'won't regret it." 

Maybe Annie would like some of this kind of music. They could have a song if they found one they both liked.

The idea had Parker giddy once more, itching to head home and prepare for the night.

"I'll have to come back then and see what you recommend," Parker said, grabbing his carefully bagged records with the receipt tucked inside, "Thanks, Harry. It was nice to kind of meet you, by the way"—his eyes moving to Harry's wife—"He talks about you all the time." 

The smile that stretched along her features was like the sunshine her husband named her after—bright and eclipsing. 

Though they were small, the things Parker picked up between the two had his heart softening in places he didn't know could soften. A love like that must be consuming in the sweetest way.

Annie was all that was swirling through his mind. 

"He does?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes drifting towards her husband. He only shrugged in response, a bashful set to his features with blushing cheeks. 

"See you next time," Harry said, biting back his dimpled smile as he bid Parker goodbye. 

Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Parker drifted towards the door, his precious phone sliding into his hand on instinct. His heart jumped when he saw a text from Annie. 

perf ! excited to see u (: 

His heart rocketed into his throat at the small string of words. Just before he left the shop, Parker didn't think before he was looking over his shoulder and catching Harry pressing a loving kiss to his wife's lips. 

He wanted a love like that. Hopefully, that will start tonight. 

——————

:))))) thank u sm for all the excitement about this pov I hope everyone likes it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas!

[lostuntothisworld]

Okay so I think it's time for another spaghetti theory:

Lilamoth isn't collecting moms. She's collecting sisters (or siblings)

Let me explain my thought process here. So a big complaint the fandom has is that we don't have a proper rogue gallery for villains. It's just the butterfly, and nothing else. It worked for early seasons, but things might be getting stale for some folks.

Enter new characters connected to Lilamoth somehow.

So she has 3 moms so far (that we know about.) All but one have something in common: dark hair and blue eyes.

From left to right we have Mrs. Rossi (red), Mrs. Bianca (white), and her third mother who is deaf could possibly be Mrs. Verdi (green).

Then we have this fourth lady that we see Lilamoth watching on her phone in the season 5 finale. I would NOT be surprised if Odille is going to be her 4th mom. Dark hair and blue eyes, and she is also disabled, just like her third mom.

(And I would not be surprised if we find out her surname is Nero (black), or Viola (violet). More on that aspect of this crack theory in a bit...)

Anyway, back to the concept of a rogues gallery. In the finale we see Lila in a disguise that 's VERY reminiscent of one of her moms:

Certainly she can't expect to disguise herself as a woman in her 30's-40's, and especially not with glasses and bangs. But she can pass reasonably as a teenage girl with a dark bob and glasses. You know, a sister.

So we know a certain main character whose name is in the title and wears red with black polkadots has dark hair and blue eyes. We don't know Lilamoth's motivations and and end goal, but we can surmise that she wants to take the place of Marinette.

(And I KNOW I've seen at least one other person theorize this, and I cannot find the post(s) so if you can find it please let me know so I can link it here!)

The pictures we see is one of Marinette with her classmates on the Liberty where Zoe is accepted in the friend group, Marinette with her parents, 3 pictures of Marinette with Kagami, and one picture of Marinette with Luka.

It's interesting to note that there isn't a picture of Marinette and Adrien together shown to the audience. You'd think they'd emphasize that, but no, it's mostly Kagami. I know it's because it's because the episode focuses on Kagami, but still. Other than her, it's just Marinette's parents, Zoe and Luka (Luka! Marinette's ex!) showcased in the closeup screenshot.

I got sidetracked! Anyway, I think other than similar coloring (and color-themed surnames haha) Lilamoth is trying to find other teenagers who are willing to join forces with her. She probably will get her hands on some Miraculous for them, somehow. But I don't think the new jewels will be from the Chinese box.

Here's where things start REALLY going off the rails with this theory:

All of Lilamoth's rogue gallery of villains are her adopted sisters (or siblings) and they are all Luka's exes. He's got a type for Italians with dark hair and blue eyes...

Going back to the surnames, all the surnames have something in common: they share the colors of all of Adrien's various transformations over the course of the series so far:

Rossi: Mister Bug

Bianca: Chat Blanc

Verdi: Aspik

We're just missing Chat Noir (could possibly will be the surname Nero, as it's Italian)

and Ephemeral (it's interesting to note that the surname Lee in Chinese can mean plum, which of course, is purple)

So naturally, my crack theory circles back to Lukadrien is endgame.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

{{{{{{Edit as of April 3, 2024.}}}}}

I will NOT be surprised if this girl with black hair in an extremely recognizable style is a disguise of another sister.

Is Lilamoth collecting blackmail to manipulate them later? She's very obviously walking disguised in areas where there would be lots of cameras (The inside of the Agreste mansion, and the hotel).

(Edit as of April 27, 2024!)

Now we know the synopsis of the London Special, I believe the disguises are to hide Lilamoth's tracks because she knows Maribug's identity. Bonus points if these girls were previous Ladybugs in past time lines that Lilamoth stole the identities of...

[[[Edit: May 4, 2024]]]

I think I found the names of the previous Ladybugs: Marina, Shone, and Mio. (Please enjoy a silly extremely rough draft of where I'd personally go with the show)

As for the rest of the spray paint on the walls, this mural is an actual feature of the Paris Catacombs:

And while I think that most of the other tags on the wall are functionally meaningless and just there for ambiance, I do find the 777-777 tag to be of note. 7 Ladybugs till Lilamoth's goal? What's the deal with the arrows and the floating away 3 7's? Are 3 already "gone"??? Fascinating stuff! My mind is reeling!

[Edit for May 6, 2024]

Possibly figured out the source of the lightning in the season 5 finale. For whatever reason it's not showing up in the tags lmfao tungle is a functional website

[brights-place]

are requests open? 🥺

if they are can i request for relationship hcs for rhys from MID

if they arent open u can ignore

Thanks :D

Rhys Dating Headcannons

Pairings: Rhys X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mild cursing, Rhys being a nerd A/N: I fucking LOVE RHYS OH MY GOD HE'S SO FINEEEEEE AND SMART LIKE EHBCUQHNWRVY

- I FUCKING LOVE RHYS HE MAKES ME GIGGLE OMLLL - He’s like the mother of the group and since he has to keep the group under control having you around is calming - Rhys likes to admire you most of the time - He allows you to play with his hair for fun and when you braided his hair once in corn rows or braids he stares at you in awe and will literally make out with you Jk Jk he would thank you - HE HAS A SWEET TOOTH I BET YOU! like he loves sweet hings but wont say so - Is interested about Humans like you so he would ask questions alot and he is happy you dont get mad at him for asking the questions

- You know how rhys had that mgazine of the girl were garments just imagine him finding your... special Magazines which he stares at confused as you snatch it off him "RHYS WHAt THE FUCK?!!" - Rhys was just staring at you with slight confusion asking about it as you hand him over to Ava telling her that you were going to go jump off a roof due to embarssment - he loves you dearly and freaks out when you do something dumb or get hurt - I head cannons daemos having an heightened sense of smell and hearing - So rhys would notice if you try on a new perfume or are trying to sneka up on him for smooches and hugs - Daemos are territorial so like IMAGINE Rhys is territorial when it comes to you - He bites his lips and whimpers when you touch his horns if your a human and don't know what they do so he'll let you off wih it but damn he was puddy - He likes to teach you about daemos if your an human but he would try avoid talking about the so called ‘monster’ problem in daemos - If your a Daemos like him he loves you as dearly as always and would always inform you about everything yet he found it hard to inform you bout going to earth - He would literally make sure that nothing and nobody knows about him dating you or the fact that someone even TRIES to touch you the only one who does know his relationship with an ‘Lower class’ daemos is Asch - Lady Grandma is very fond of you and laughs whenever you do something dumb she says that you and Rhys made the perfect couple due to opposites attract. - Man has such bad eyesight so you giggle when he squints his eyes

- He freaked out when he saw you about to poke an beast that was sleeping one time

- he had to grab you and yell at you in an hushed tone while dragging you away

- Him dating you It’s obvious he’s gonna be scolding you for being an chaotic dummy - He loved telling you about ice-cream so much! - He likes to ramble about smart things and is seen very smart and a genius so if you don't say it sometimes he just follows you around for you to say it - Is like a lost puppy if you dont at least ONCE kiss him on the cheek or praise him at least once - Rhys would hold onto you and relax in your arms, and oh how he missed you

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[gloomysoup]

before we get too old

rating: T+ | word count: 3,563 | tags: major character death, angst, hurt no comfort, canon-typical violence, implied steddie (if you squint) | ao3

*title is from Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol*

i am so happy to FINALLY be sharing this fic with y'all. I've been sitting on this one for MONTHS, and surprisingly kept it pretty secret. I wanna give quick thanks to my friends, Ro and Seph, for helping me edit over the last several weeks and convincing me it's actually good enough to post. They are godsends, I swear. And of course a special thank you to my spouse @estrellami-1 for having full confidence in me and always being my cheerleader 💜 I hope y'all enjoy this fic (and don't hate me too much for what I've done here)

It happened so fast. His attention was away from Mike and Will for maybe a handful of seconds at most, turned just long enough to scan the area behind him for movement. All it took was a few seconds though. When he turned back around, a demogorgon had lept toward the two young teens, and Steve Harrington was blocking them.

There wasn’t even enough time for Steve to raise his bat. He didn’t stand a chance. He shoved the two boys behind him so hard that Will tripped and fell. Mike was frozen on the spot. The creature had a hold on Steve before anyone could even blink. Its claws dug into his skin as its face opened up, sinking sharp teeth into tender muscle and tearing. Steve gritted his teeth to keep from screaming too loudly, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. The others regained their senses and shot at the demogorgon, forcing it to release Steve and move back far enough for Jonathan to hit it with flames. Steve crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood, falling limp like a rag doll, tossed aside by a child who found something more interesting to play with.

The creature was dead. The other groups were scattered, following the plan. This hadn’t been part of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mike and Will stood a few paces away from where Steve laid on the ground, forcing wet, gasping breaths into his lungs through the blood pouring out in droves. Jonathan dropped to his side as soon as he was certain the rest of the area was clear.

“Steve,” he said between quick breaths. He pulled a wad of gauze from his bag, a precaution Nancy had made them all take. Part of him knew, just looking at Steve, that it wasn’t going to be enough. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay, man.”

Steve coughed, blood spilling from his mouth and dripping down the sides of his face. “It- it came outta- outta nowhere, man. I had- had to help- had to keep the kids safe.”

“Yeah, you did. They’re fine, Steve. You protected them.” Jonathan fought the emotions creeping up his throat as he pressed the gauze into the gaping wounds on Steve’s torso. The skin was ripped to shreds. Jonathan could almost convince himself he could see the bones of Steve’s rib cage through all the blood. Steve winced and groaned at the sharp pressure. “I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta stop the bleeding. It’s a lot of blood.”

“Be better if Nance was here, huh?” Steve tried to laugh, but it just came out weak and strained. It led to another cough, blood spilling everywhere. It was already pooling underneath him, seeping into the ground. “She’d know exactly what to do."

“You’re right, she would. She’s always the one better in a crisis, isn’t she?” Jonathan licked his lips. His hands were coated in blood. It was seeping through the gauze far quicker than he had hoped it would. This was bad. “You’re gonna be okay, Steve. We’re gonna get you outta here, yeah?”

Steve took a few more gasping breaths, his eyes fluttering before drifting behind Jonathan to Mike and Will. His gaze pulled back to Jonathan, dark and dim as he fought for every blood-soaked breath. “You don’t have to lie, man. I- I know it’s bad. I’m not making it out of here, am I?”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, you gotta hang on, okay? We’ll find a way. We’ll get you help, and everything will be fine.” The gauze was completely soaked through. Blood seeped through his fingers, coating his hands in thick, sticky red. He could feel it soaking into the knees of his jeans. He looked over his shoulder. “Mike, Will, I need you to help,” he called. “I need something to stop the bleeding.”

Mike stood stock-still, whole body trembling, but Will seemed to instantly jump into action. He rummaged through their small supply, looking for anything they could use. He found a spare t-shirt and a jacket. It would have to do. They didn't have any other option, and the walkies hadn’t been working this whole time. They had no way of calling the others for help. They were on their own. Will tossed the shirt at his brother, standing just to the side as Jonathan switched out the dark red, dripping gauze for the shirt. It had done nothing to staunch any of the bleeding. Steve had gone pale. Paler than any person ever should be. He was losing too much.

“W- Will, okay?” Steve asked, still fighting for air.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Will answered softly. “We both are. You saved us.”

“That’s- that’s good.” His eyes drifted shut, and Jonathan began to panic. His heart pounded in his chest. His lungs constricted. He couldn't breathe. He needed Steve to make it out of this. He had to save him.

“Hey, hey, no, Steve, you have to stay awake,” he said quickly, pressing one hand to his face and tapping his cheek. He tried to swallow back the bile that wanted to rise at the red it left behind. “I need you to stay awake for me, yeah? You’re gonna be okay, but you can’t close your eyes.”

Steve winced again, his breathing coming shallow and raspy. He was losing so much blood. “R-Robin?”

“She’s coming,” Jonathan promised quickly, not knowing if it was true or not, but also knowing that all he could do now was try to comfort Steve. All he could do was try and reassure him, make this easier on the guy that had sacrificed so much for all of them and never expected anything in return. He just needed to believe that everything was okay. That he would see Robin soon. He still didn't fully understand their relationship, but he knew it was important to both of them. “Robin’s coming, Steve. You just gotta stay with me a little longer. She’ll be here soon.”

“Jonathan,” Will whispered, looking at his brother worriedly. He was crouched on the other side of Steve now, his face pale. Like he knew. He just knew. Jonathan hated that he knew. Will was too young. He shouldn't have to know.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jonathan said firmly, trying to reassure everyone in a situation that he knew wasn’t going to have a happy ending. What else was he supposed to do?

“Hey- hey, man, I- uh- I’m sorry.” Jonathan put his attention on Steve, not quite sure what he was apologizing for. “All the shit- the shit that I did. Wasn’t cool. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, you don’t have to apologize for that stuff. It doesn't matter anymore. I got over it a long time ago. If anything, I should be the one sorry. I’m the one that stole your girlfriend.

Steve tried to laugh again, but it just made him choke up more blood. God, there was so much blood. “Nah, she never really- really loved me. It was always you anyway.” His eyes drifted shut for a moment again, but he was still speaking. “Robin- Robin’s on her way, yeah?”

“She’s coming, Steve. You just gotta keep breathing. She’ll be here soon.”

“You know, she- she’s my best friend. She always- always jokes that we’re soulmates. Platonic with a capital ‘P’.” Steve’s voice was slow and syrupy. Rough. Jonathan hated how slow it sounded.

“Yeah? That’s really cool, man. You deserve someone like that.”

Jonathan just needed to keep him talking. If he was talking, he was alive. The longer he was alive, the more hope they had. Jonathan knew that wasn't actually true, but it's all he could do. Convince himself of lies. Anything to keep from falling apart in front of Mike and Will. They didn't need that. They needed him to be strong.

Steve nodded his head slowly, just barely enough to catch the movement. “I- you’ll tell her I- I love her, right? She’s gotta know. Someone’s gotta tell her.”

“You can tell her yourself.”

He winced, shaking his head. “I think we both know that’s not gonna happen.” Another cough. “Promise me something?”

“No, Steve, you’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“Jon.” His voice was raspy and distant. Jonathan doubted he had much time left. “Take- take care of them for me. Nance especially. Don’t- don’t let her blame herself. Me, Barb. None of it was- was her fault. And Robs. She’s- she’s gonna need someone. You’ve gotta- gotta look out for her for me. Promise you- you’ll be there for them?”

Jonathan nodded quickly. He didn’t have a choice anymore. Any hope that Steve was getting out of there alive was dwindling rapidly. His skin was growing more and more pale and cold from blood loss. His eyes were heavy and dim. His breathing was too shallow. Jonathan knew if he felt for his pulse, it would barely even be there. Too weak to keep pumping blood he didn't have. “Of course I will. I’ll make sure they’re okay. You don't have to worry. I’ve got them.”

“Thanks, man.” Steve took a few breaths and his head lolled over toward Will as he looked at him. He tried to muster a smile, but it was tight and bloody. So red. “You’re a good kid, Will,” he muttered. “You’ve gotta- gotta make sure all you little- little rugrats are looking after each other.”

Will nodded instantly, tear tracks on his cheeks. Jonathan could tell that Will knew. He knew this was it. He watched his little brother choke back a sob.

“Hey, no, you don’ gotta do that. You’ll be okay.”

Mike dropped to his knees next to Will, sobbing harder than Jonathan had ever seen. “You can’t die on us, Steve!” he begged, grabbing the older boy’s cold, clammy hand.

“Mike,” Steve whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“No! No, you can’t! We- we need you!”

“Nah, you guys are strong. You’ll be okay.”

“No, Steve, don’t! I- I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you. I’m sorry. I never should have been like that. You were always there to save us, and I was awful to you!”

The corner of Steve’s lips tugged up slightly as he tried to squeeze Mike’s hand with the little strength he had left. “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just a kid.”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“I know. I’m not mad. I love all you- you little twerps, okay?”

“Steve, please, don’t go.”

“‘S okay, Mike. Eddie’s waitin’ for me. ‘M not gonna be alone anymore.”

Jonathan looked up and spotted people in the distance. Nancy, Robin, Lucas, and Erica. He stood up instantly, scrambling to his feet. “Nance! Robin!” he yelled as loudly as he could, his voice breaking as he realized he was crying now too. He waved his arms frantically, tripping over his feet to get closer. “Robin! It’s Steve!” The group stopped dead. Nancy, Lucas, and Erica exchanged looks, but Robin didn’t hesitate. She took off sprinting toward them, the other three following behind a split second later. Jonathan dropped back down, his hand on Steve’s bicep to get his attention. “Steve, hold on, okay? Robin’s coming. She’s right here. Just another moment longer.”

Robin came skidding to a halt, Will and Jonathan taking a few steps back as she collapsed to her knees at his side. She took his face in her hands, and Steve coughed up some more blood before attempting a smile, his teeth stained. Jonathan could still make out his own blood red fingerprint on Steve’s cheek between Robin’s fingers. He was fading fast now. He didn't have much time left. “Steve, no, no, hey, you’re going to be okay.” She started rambling, tears streaking her face. Steve cut her off, weakly raising his arm to cup her cheek. His thumb smeared red across her skin while he tried to comfort her with a bloody hand.

“Robs,” he whispered. “Robs, ’s- ’s okay. Gonna- gonna see Eds again. ‘M okay.”

“Steve, please.” Robin’s voice cracked and broke.

The others had arrived, and Mike had moved back to stand with his sister and his friends. It wasn’t the whole group, but at least Steve wasn’t alone. At least he got to say goodbye to Robin. Nancy was crying, looking between Steve and Jonathan. All Jonathan could do was shake his head. There wasn’t anything more they could do. He had tried everything he could. There was no hope of getting him help. He wouldn’t make it back to the gate. This was it.

“‘S okay, Robbie. ‘M gonna be okay. You’re gonna be- be okay.”

“No, I’m not. Not without you. I need you, dingus.”

“No, you don't. You never did. I needed you.” Steve’s eyes fluttered. “Tell Dustin- Dustin that ‘m sorry, and ‘m with Eddie now, ‘kay? Make sure he’s- he’s okay. He’s gotta- gotta remember that- that I love ‘im, ‘kay? Max and El too. They- they gotta…. Do that for me?”

“Tell them yourself, dingus,” Robin whispered. “Stay alive, and tell them yourself.”

Steve tried to take a breath, but it was rattling and shallow. He got cut off by another rough bout of coughing that sounded so painful, even Jonathan’s chest hurt in sympathy. “I'm not sure I can anymore. I- I'm so- so cold.” He blinked at Robin, trying to smile. “Promise. Please?”

Robin sniffed, her next breath shaky. “Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He sighed softly. “Love you, Robbie. Always,” he whispered on his last remaining breath. His eyes were closed, and he let out one last puff of air before his chest stilled. The air around them was heavy and silent as they all watched his arm go limp, falling from Robin’s cheek and hitting the ground with a gentle thud. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. That was it. Steve was gone.

The next sound that filled the air around them was Robin’s screaming as she collapsed forward onto her best friend. Her soulmate. She was covered in what remained of his blood, not even caring as she pressed her face against his chest and grabbed at his body as she shook with the force of each devastating sob. “I love you,” she stuttered out between gasping breaths and heart-wrenching cries. “I love you, okay? I love you.”

Steve had always done so much. He took care of them. He protected them. He loved them. In the end, there was nothing they could do to protect him.

Twenty years old was too young to die.

Nancy stood by Jonathan’s side, watching Robin as the grief completely overwhelmed her. “What happened?” she finally asked quietly, voice strained with tears.

Jonathan swallowed hard, his arm tight around her shoulders. “Demogorgon. It came out of nowhere, headed straight for Mike and Will. Steve shoved them out of the way, but there wasn’t time to fight it off. He didn’t stand a chance.”

“Dustin and Max are going to be devastated.”

“Robin almost didn’t make it in time,” Jonathan whispered, watching the girl gasp through more sobs that wracked her entire body. “I think he was waiting for her. He just wanted to say goodbye to his best friend.”

“I can’t imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t been here soon enough….” Nancy glanced at Mike and Will, who were standing with Lucas and Erica. All four of them watched in silence, tears rolling down their cheeks. “Are they okay?”

“Physically, they’re fine. Steve was the only one who- who got hurt. I don’t think they’re ever going to be okay about this, though. Mike is really upset. I think he blames himself a little.”

There was movement and noise in the distance. Jonathan looked up, spotting Hopper first. His heart dropped, knowing what he had to do now. He pulled away from Nancy, nodding in their direction when she looked at him.

"I'm gonna meet them halfway," he whispered. "I want to try to prepare them."

Nancy nodded. "I'll stay here with the kids and Robin. Jonathan?" He looked back at her. "Good luck."

He nodded solemnly. "Thanks."

Jonathan jogged to catch the other group before they got too close. They instantly slowed to a stop as he reached them.

Hopper frowned, eyes roving over Jonathan's appearance. "What happened? Are you okay? Where is that blood coming from?"

Jonathan glanced down at himself for the first time since all this started. He was covered, practically head to toe, in blood. Steve's blood. It was everywhere, soaked into his clothes and staining his hands. Distantly, he could still hear Robin's piercing screams echoing through the air.

"It- it's not mine," he answered dumbly, shaking his head.

"Then whose the hell is it?" Hopper demanded.

Silence followed for a moment. Jonathan paused, trying to think of how to say what he needed to say. There was really only one way to answer that question, though. He just had to say it. "Steve's."

"What?" Dustin paled where he stood next to Hopper. His eyes flickered between Jonathan and Hopper rapidly. Jonathan could see the panic rising in him.

He could feel the shock finally settling in. He knew it by the tingling that had started up in his fingers and toes. The way he couldn't quite get a full breath into his lungs. His heart was pounding against his rib cage and his blood was rushing in his ears.

"There- there was a- a demogorgon. He- he put himself in front of the boys.

Max was off before anyone could try to stop her. His mom had El in her arms as the tears started. Dustin was frozen, staring at Jonathan in horror.

"No," he whispered. "No, he- he-"

"I tried everything," Jonathan said softly. "I couldn't- I couldn't stop it. There was so much blood...."

"Jonathan." He looked up at the tone in Hopper's voice. He blinked a few times, trying to straighten out his scrambling brain.

"He- He didn't make it."

"No!" Dustin screamed, fat tears running down his grimy cheeks. "No, he can't! We have to save him! Steve!" Dustin took off. Jonathan could hear the sobs bursting from his chest as he ran.

"Is there any way-"

"No."

Jonathan was sticky with half-dried blood. He didn't know what to do anymore. He swayed on his feet. It was all coming down around him. He couldn't save Steve. He couldn't protect any of them. The blood was so sticky.

“Jonathan.” He looked up, not even realizing he had been staring at his red-stained hands. “Are you okay? Did anyone else get hurt?”

He shook his head again. “Steve, he- he pushed them out of the way. He saved them, and I- I couldn't even save him.”

“It's not your fault.”

Steve’s blood-soaked smile fluttered through his mind. His ears rang with Robin’s screaming sobs, her begging. He could still feel Steve’s blood seeping from his body between his fingers, soaking through everything they had to try and stop it. He couldn't save him. It sure felt like his fault.

He doesn't know what happens after that. Everything passes by him, every moment slipping through the gaps. All he knows is his hands are stained and tacky with dried blood. His clothes stick to him. Steve is dead.

Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.

-----

No one ever prepares you for the aftermath of tragedy.

It's been a month, and Jonathan still can't close his eyes without seeing blood and bone and shredded muscle. He can't close his eyes without feeling the wetness seeping between his fingers and into his clothes. He always hears the echo of last words, of screaming, crying. He hears Robin begging Steve to hold on. He hears her stuttering “I love yous” in the wake of death.

Twenty years old is too young to die.

No one has seen or heard from Robin since. Max is more withdrawn than ever before. Mike is too quiet. Dustin’s just a shell. They've all been hit hard by so much loss. Everywhere they turned, someone else was dead. They were all bound to break eventually.

Jonathan knows it isn’t fair to think, but sometimes he wishes it had been him instead. Not that he thinks he deserves it over Steve and Eddie. No one deserves to die like that. It’s just…. Jonathan sees the way everyone needs them. He sees the way losing them has affected everyone else. He just wonders if maybe it would have been different. Maybe they wouldn’t be hurting so much, if Jonathan had died instead.

It's not fair.

Nothing is fair.

Steve Harrington has been dead one month, and Jonathan still doesn’t know how to live his life. He doesn't know how to move on from it. Jonathan is also convinced he has finally lost it. Every time he turns around, there Steve is. A glimpse in the grocery store, standing by the bus stop, lurking between shelves in Family Video.

God, they weren't even friends. They never had been. Truthfully, most of the time, they barely got along. They were civil, obviously. There was no hesitation when it came to the end of the world. But they were so far from friends. And yet.

Jonathan doesn't know how to live in a world that doesn't have Steve Harrington in it.

[talenlee]

Why Is Druid?

Say that like ‘where is Wizard Hut?‘

I love the 4e Druid. This is a marked change from how much I liked the 3e druid, or how often you might see me playing a druid in a Baldur’s Gate game. Back in 3rd edition, the druid, despite being very powerful, never really engaged me, in part perhaps because I was always trying to find something exploitative and powerful rather than merely accepting the juggernaut of a toolkit the game just left in the Player’s Handbook. You couldn’t get clever with the Druid, you just had to pick it up and use it, like some sort of society of creative anachronisms where one of the anachronisms available to the players was has gun. Valid, but hardly sporting.

The Druid in 4th edition is different. Wildly different. Weirdly different, and different in one of those ways that shows what I think of as a seam in the design between 4th and 3rd editions of D&D.

The Druid was one of 3rd edition’s great mistakes, a full spellcasting class with healer capacity to serve as a pinch-hitter healer in a group that wanted things a little more varied, addressing an enormously complex potential build from its earlier edition, 2e, and all in the process, resulting in some deeply confused mash up of abilities that attempted to address confusion with volume. The druid of 2e had a special unique set of rules compared to the Cleric — for example, at a certain level, you passed into a specific category of Druidic ability and now you were technically a Hierophant, and Hierophants had seven extra spells of every level. Of course there was a limited supply of Hierophants in the world, so there was a question of if you could level up if another one existed, and maybe there’s a one-in, one-out policy? First in, first fired?

Anyway, I can’t speak to how it played, but I am at least aware, on the edges of it, that the 2e druid was odd. It had a lot of things it could do, but much of how it worked, reading the books, seemed to be interesting but challenging to manage. You could wild shape, you could heal, you could cast utility spells, you could even fight with some melee weapons — personally, I didn’t see any of it worth it, because none of the things it could do it could do very well.

3e addressed this seeming difficulty by instead taking all those different options and bringing them all up to the same level. Wild Shape worked by checking traits of monster units, which meant that you weren’t limited to specific reinterpretations of animals and instead could do what a druid feels like it should do — you know, turn into an animal. The spells were rebalanced and shared across different classes, which meant that they tended to work in a more standardised way. Armour rules were aggregated, and weapons were made less terrible.

The result was that the 3e druid went from being ‘decent’ at a bunch of things to ‘good’ at everything it wanted to do. The problem of the druid then became about picking the thing you wanted to at every opportunity, and doing a good job of it — you’d have druids carrying wands of healing so they could dedicate their spell slots to more important tasks, like Flame Striking opponents, or messing up the battlefield with roots. You’d also see druids keeping the ‘best’ list of animals on hand, and every new monster book presented a new chance for druids to develop a new best form.

It also created the strange question of What does the druid do?

The answer was ‘everything.’

The 4e Druid, in comparison and contrast to these designs is something very different that touches, at best, on the periphery of what the 3e Druid could be. I mean it stands to reason, you can only ever touch on doing everything when something you’re working from is so powerful. 4e with its role system of Defender, Striker, Leader and Controller, and its reliable, reusable balance math suddenly was confronted with fitting an elephant into a shoebox.

How do you represent something busted that could do everything in the context of a new system that sought to explicitly prevent that? I joked when the game was new that the four roles were Defender, Striker, Leader and Miscellaneous. That any class too powerful, with too much stuff it could potentially do, got thrown to the Controller role as suggested by the first Controller we ever saw being the Wizard. Oh and back in Player’s Handbook 1, the Wizard had a few builds that were pretty ridiculously pushed — the pinball wizard, I’ll talk about it sometime — and that meant that it was easy to feel like the Controller Does Everything.

That impression diluted through experience, of course, and eventually it came to that while yes, the Controller sure has some Miscellaneous vibes, the core of what the Controller was there to do was to attack the enemy action economy. Nice and obvious to a non giga-nerd, right? Okay, how about this: The leader lets you do more things, the controller stops them from doing more things?

And into this space, they poured the druid.

It works beautifully, for my tastes; the druid needs to do lots of things to feel properly druidy, but you need to make sure the doing lots of things doesn’t unbalance the game. Controllers have the widest variety of things they can do and ways they can do them – inflicting status conditions, changing enemy position, preventing specific action types, making areas on the battlefield inaccessible, these are all ‘controllery’ things, and that means there’s a lot of different ways you can flavour them. The Invoker is most famous for making zones in the play space hard to deal with, the Wizard has a build that slides things all over the place, and the psion controls people with immense penalties to their damage rolls.

Obligatory pause where, while reading this aloud, for either Fox or I to comment on how amazing it is that Dishearten is an AOE power.

Anyway, the druid was designed to be a mode switcher class. That is, there are two ways a druid can do things. One is a melee controller that makes a single target’s life harder, the other is a ranged controller that makes a large group of enemies’ lives harder. This mode switching then adds a new element to the class that your powers can interact with, where you now have control powers that can add a mode switching element to them as well. This is your Wild Shape – you transform into some kind of nonspecific beast, which can use your Wild Shape powers. Each form has fewer powers to manage, and you can build your druid to specialise in one or the other or do a mix.

This lets the druid do the ‘a lot’ without letting them actually do everything. You have a lot of choices and a lot of ways to play with those pieces, but even just how often you use the mode switch is part of what the druid does to control the battlefield. When I first played a druid, it was not uncommon to start a fight out of wild shape, use the first turn to make some kind of area control power, then shift into wild shape for the rest of the fight kicking people into that area control power. There are druids builds that work like wizards and only ever shapeshift to get away from problems, and make a hit while scuttling away, or to sit on a specific type of problem. There were druids who focused on summoning monsters and using them as kind of turrets on the battlefield, positioning allies in a way that benefitted them around those summons.

Lone artillery combat encounters, where you have a bunch of stuff in front of a long-ranged attacker? Druids love those. Even at level 1, that artillery is spending their days completely stuck underneath a Fire Hawk power.

Problem is, of course, that if you want to do Everything doing a Lot is going to miss something. That was what led to the subclasses of the druid, the ones that added healer elements to the druid, because the druid back in 3e could do that. It added animal companions, because the druid back in 3e could do that. Now I don’t worry too much about these things because if I wanted an animal companion on my Druid, I’d take a theme for that, but also because these changes were introduced in an Essentials book.

Which is to say, they’re crap.

They’re not crap crap, like I try to defend Essentials as giving players a choice for simplified character builds, but in the specific case of the Essentials Druids, in order to work with the simplified choices, these Essentials druids with their animal companions and their healing powers have to look at all other Druid powers and not use them. The only use they get out of their animal companion is using the specific subset of powers that make them work, and that makes combat more samey. But again: That’s a thing you probably want if you want a simplified build.

Still, it gives rise to my favourite joke – I mean like, funny thing, not really a joke, there’s no subversion of reality or anything here – about the Healer Druid. See, every Leader in the game gets an encounter power, usable twice a combat at level 1, that heals an ally with a bonus. Every class gets their own version that lets them distinguish their class specifically and add some interesting detail that shows how this Leader differs from other Leaders.

The Healer druid build gets Healing Word.

The Cleric power.

Literally, the same power, same name, listed as a Cleric power.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[miowritings]

A date with christmas✷

Pjsk leaders x reader (separated)

✮A/N: hello!! Merry christmas everyone!! This has to be my fav fic because well, i love christmas and that i also got to write tsukasa and kanade, who are both my faves<33 i hope you love this fic as much as i do

✮synopsis: what would spending christmas day be like with the unit leaders? Do they prefer going out or staying in?

✮contains: none!

Ichika Hoshino

-will buy gifts for you, not just normal sized gifts but BULKS, she'll try to get her hands on the new merch of your current interests and give it to you

-she prefers to spend christmas all cozy and warm, watching movies while drinking hot choco is her ideal christmas date

-likes putting up decorations, she sometimes lets you help and would even invite her friends to help the both of you out!

-isn't really good when it comes to wrapping gifts.. she uses a bag to hide her gifts and even if she does try and wrap one it will not look good..

-if you give her a gift, she'll be really suprised, she would stop talking and just crash like a computer

"Merry christmas y/n! I brought you this plush you told me about a month or so.. hehe.. im glad you like it.." she chuckles, she then looks surprised to see you giving her a gift "i-is this the limited edition hatsune miku christmas plushie..? W-where and how did you get your hands on this..? Thank you y/n!" She smiles, hugging the plush with a smile

Minori Hanasato

-will use christmas as an opportunity for her livestreams! Not just any livestreams but she'll go live right now at your place! Along with her friends ofcourse

-before starting the stream she helps you out with the decorations, making sure to go extra on them

-will buy gifts for everyone, if shes running out of money? Handmade gifts!

-will make sure everyone is dressed up! Especially cute christmas themes outfits

-will invite you to her stream, and would also include you when it comes to gift exchanging or secret santa. Its practically exchanging gifts with mmj + one!

-giving minori a gift is quite chaotic, she'll squeal alot and maybe even hug you til you cant breath, she may even show it to her fans and would unknowingly show off her gifts from time to time

"Merry christmas everyone! So i actually got y/n this and here, take this! I saw you looking at that snow globe while buying gifts and i knew you deserved it! It comes with a cute rabbit see?" She exclaims, as she opens her eyes, a look of surprise was quickly plastered onto her face "y-y/n..?! Y-you got me this vintage haruka merch..?! I'm gonna cherish it forever!!" She squeals.

Kohane Azusawa

-spending christmas day with her is quite...exhausting.. she'll take you to parks, shows, malls, and even her practice if theres still much time

-she'll first take you to a wxs show, then to the mall where you both buy yourselves some gifts and outfits, if she still has energy, she'll then take you to weekend garage and have you watch her and the group practice

-if you prefer to stay inside during christmas day, no biggie, kohane can also do that and adjust things for you! She'll put on a movie and cuddle with you, bake a cake or just simply spending time with you

-giving kohane a gift is a cute mess, she'll blush easily and maybe even try to ask if youre sure, not because she's rude or anything but because its too much for her to handle, still she'll happily accept it

"Merry christmas y/n! Here i got you this phenny plush.. it has this happy expression which reminded me of you.. and its big so you could hug it as if its real" she smiled, as her eyes landed on the gift you gave her, she gasps, then chuckled a bit. "Hehe! It looks like we both got each other the same gift, and it looks like this one has a shy expression.. do i really look like that.?" She murmurs to herself

Tsukasa Tenma

-tsukasa spends his christmas as wonderful as ever, ofcourse, he'll make a special show on phoenix wonderland about something christmasy, he'll ofcourse make you sit backstage or on the front, wherever you like

-once the show is done he would take you out to christmas shops where they would sell christmas gifts, foods and even santa merch

-he would then invite you to his place where you can celebrate christmas with him and his family. You both would end up baking and making ginger bread houses, ofcourse.. tsukasa's gingerbread is flashy

-what else is flashy? His house, once you step inside its decorated to the core with christmas decorations, tsukasa really likes to go all out with this..

-when you give tsukasa a gift, he'll get flustered easily but ofcourse, he would try to hide it. He'll also display your gifts and show it off to his friends, big or small you'll find that gift next to him in bed.

"Merry christmas y/n! I brought you this nightlight that i know you would love, look it can change colors and such!" He explains with a smile, as he looks at his gift he almost passed out. "HAAAH?!! Y-you got me this plushie of myself?! You even made the whole thing.." he exclaims happily" "ohoho, ofcourse i love it, what more could a star want than a plush of himself right? Next time we have a show, mini kasa shall make an appearance!"

Kanade Yoisaki

-kanade prefers her christmas day to be cozy, if you invite some people in sure, she doesnt mind

-if you do like going out, you'll probably spend your christmas dinner at some diner, specifically one that sells ramen

-kanade gets cold very easily, so if you two were ever walking around in some snowy area, make sure to bring an extra jacket incase she gets cold again

-kanade loves making something, so most of her gifts would probably be handmade goods.

-what kanade loves more is to make something with you, if you suggested youd want to make a gingerbread house, she'll agree, consider it as an accident since kanade doesnt usually make foods so the house will surely be messy

-giving kanade a gift would be a sight to see, its not everyday she receives one so she'll be a little hesitant when taking it, she'll blush slightly and would keep thanking you and how she's gonna cherish it

"merry christmas y/n.. there was alot of things i wished to get you but i think this is the one.. you see, mochizuki-san helped me with this too.." she says, handing you a box that looked like to be cake "its my first time baking but with mochizuki-san's help, i figured you'll like it.." she mumbles, her face slowly becoming red, she looks up to you seeing that you had also given her a gift, ofcourse, this flustered her." Eh? For me.. really? Are you sure? Well then.. thank you y/n.. i'll be sure to use it and take care of it daily.."

[junk-story]

Interview Archive 1, 12.1993 - Ongaku to Hito Special Edition

BUCK-TICK is an exceedingly rare sort of band. Although the Band Boom has ended up vanishing as if it never happened at all, in an area totally unrelated to the Boom, where no one else is drawing a crowd, is a group with a unique stance who have continued following their own path of “individuality”. Their stylish visuals have the lingering scent of decadence. Their lyrics, like “I just want to go mad”, are laden with the aesthetics of self-deprecation. And, with “strange” sounds that have absolutely no roots in Western rock, and truly catchy melodies – from any angle, they are a “Japan Original”. Furthermore, although these “nonconformists” have also continued to be a great success commercially, they are still breaking new ground. Although their eerie ambiance is often misunderstood by ordinary people, this unique sensation is something that anyone can have a share of. Sakurai Atsushi reigns with a “negative charisma”, but his absolute desire to escape and narcissism in the sense of “being lenient with oneself” can happen to anyone. I support the weakness of humanity.*

Ichikawa: How do you think BUCK-TICK are seen by ordinary people?

Sakurai: …Maybe...I suppose people who aren’t interested just aren’t interested at all. Because no matter how many times something that doesn’t interest me shows up on TV, that’s where it ends for me.

Ichikawa: Despite your CD sales, you’re passive about this.

Sakurai: Yeah, because there are people who don’t listen to music, so even if I stood face-to-face with such a person and said, “It’s me”, they’ll just be like, “And who are you?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: Conversely, what kind of people do you think listen to BUCK-TICK?

Sakurai: Hmmm...I think a lot of them are daydreamers. (laughs) Even watching the same movies, like Alain Delon1 rather than Jurassic Park. (laughs) When I read the letters I’ve received, that’s the feeling I get.

Ichikawa: What kind of letters do you get most?

Sakurai: In my case, I get everything from the heavy stuff to the light stuff. (laughs)

Ichikawa: What sort of content is in the light letters?

Sakurai: “Your stage outfit was so cool this time”. (laughs)

Ichikawa: And what about the heavy letters?

Sakurai: The heavy ones are incredible, really – like a 21 year old girl who got divorced even though she has a child, or things about their family members, or about how they’re sick. Also, there are many people who write emotional content.

Ichikawa: It’s become Kitaro’s Yokai postal service2, hasn’t it?

Sakurai: Hahaha. But, there’s nothing I’m able to give them...you know.

Ichikawa: Although this idol-like reaction is understandable, is there no “added hidden value” appearing more and more?

Sakurai: Hmmm, I wonder...although I’m making music...music isn’t necessary to living, and you won’t die without it. So I think people who aren’t interested don’t listen to music that deeply, and naturally, they don’t synchronize their listening to the situations I find myself in and my reality. So the band is getting more media exposure, which is supposed to give us more opportunities to be heard, but I wonder…

Ichikawa: But on the other hand, the Yokai Post Box has letters arriving to it frequently, right? Obviously, that’s different from just a popular song and supporting some harmless rock music.

Sakurai: But I expect that the people who are watching idols are definitely greater in number. Because they’re all the same.

Ichikawa: But BUCK-TICK are already big names, and you’ve been reigning on the front lines for 6 years. Naturally, you should be different from them. And hey, if you were part of SMAP3, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?

Sakurai: Yeah, that would be an issue. (laughs)

Ichikawa: So for example, what do you think people come to see Sakurai Atsushi for at concerts?

Sakurai: I really don’t know...for example, I receive letters saying like, “I want to see more of your humanity4 during the MC sections”, and I think it might be better if I expressed my humanity more. Also, I think the songs I want to sing and the songs people want to hear may be different...I’m always confused.

Ichikawa: You still haven’t gotten a grip on what your stage persona is.

Sakurai: No, if I think about understanding it, it’s easy, but I think hard about it and then it confuses me. I suppose there won’t be any problem if I do everything like an entertainer with a strong sense of providing a service, but.

Ichikawa: Like, “I’m Sakuraiiiiii!”

Sakurai: Wahahahaha.

Ichikawa: What’s an example of a song people are expecting?

Sakurai: Songs like “Speed”, “Jupiter”, or “JUST ONE MORE KISS”, don’t you think?

Ichikawa: And the song you think they’ll dislike?

Sakurai: Taiyou ni Korosareta. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aah, Sakurai’s song about the thing at the core, the “aesthetics of self-deprecation.” Well, it certainly seems like a song that was written sitting on a hill of despair.

Sakurai: Oh? (laughs) But lately, I’ve received letters saying that Taiyou ni Korosareta was good, so I’ve thought that maybe I’m not as misunderstood as I thought I was.

Ichikawa: So you ought to have more self-confidence, Sakurai.

Sakurai: I should, right. More...not to flatter myself, but I hope I can cross the line to becoming an entertainer.

Ichikawa: Well, I think it’s enough that you’re performing as this “dark entertainer”. What do you think is lacking?

Sakurai: It’s not that something’s lacking...it’s that it’s incomplete.

Ichikawa: Well, then where is something lacking?

Sakurai: Mmm...in my own head. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Oi, come on now.

Sakurai: (laughs) I think it could be anything, but, for example, when I go out in front of 2,000 people, I just don’t get that same high anymore.

Ichikawa: So even though you have this stately and dark look – you don’t even think things like, “These 2,000 people have gathered to come see me!”?

Sakurai: No, I don’t. There can be people who are looking at something else even if they’re directly in front of me. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aren’t you being narrow-minded about this?

Sakurai: It’s caught my attention. So I stare at a single point and act like an idiot who doesn’t see that sort of reaction to me.

Ichikawa: Wow. First of all, haven’t you ever thought, “I’m popular”?

Sakurai: When they’re screaming, “kyaaaaa!” (laughs)

Ichikawa: A live venue is really a melting pot of those “kyaaa” screams; does that make you feel anxious?

Sakurai: I don’t think it’s anxiety, but...I’m always agonizing5 over if I should take myself less seriously. It’s not only people who are listening to the music and enjoying it; there are also many people enjoying another part of the performance, so I think I should do what I want, but...I’m insecure.

Ichikawa: Have you ever thought about the influence you have?

Sakurai: I have. For example, it’s easy to tell when there are kids wearing the same fashion as I am. Also...I don’t know if this is my influence or not, but...the people who like the same world that I do. They give me these detailed, maniacal (laughs) opinions on things, like, “that musical is really good”, “have you read this novel?”, “you like this type of aesthetic, right?”, “this thing you said in an interview really spoke to me”, like that.

Ichikawa: Fundamentally, is it that the recipients of your work can’t accept Sakurai Atsushi as a real person? With your charisma, it’s like you’re magnified up 5 or 10 times bigger in their minds. And those voices, their expectations are like, “Well, if it’s Sakurai-san, naturally he’ll understand my aesthetic sense.” I think it would be natural to gain some self-confidence from those voiced expectations and support.

Sakurai: It would be better not to betray that sentiment, but when it comes to my own conviction...I think if I can put out more that says, “this is how my world is”, I’ll be able to clearly have that conviction.

Ichikawa: Even with Sakurai having this internal conflict, you’re being seen by ordinary people, other than your fans6, as a so-called “rockstar” now – in your case, you must be feeling the difference of that.

Sakurai: I do. Even people who don’t know music have said, “Ah, it’s that guy” – although I had just come there to have a meal. (laughs) I’m human just the same as a salaryman that’s the same age from that area, so..while I think that about myself, I guess they’re in a position where they can’t see it.

Ichikawa: Even if you don’t want to be considered special, in the first place, rock really must be thought of as “exceptional”. Moreover, being exceptional is the biggest characteristic of BUCK-TICK. Do you not have any awareness that this means you are exceptional?

Sakurai: I’m also very aware of that. It’s both extremes. There are also times where I want to say, “Leave me alone!”, turn my nose up and walk away, but (laughs) that’s also tiring, so there’s the converse argument to be made, too, like, “I’m a human just like you, so leave me alone.”

Ichikawa: Do you think things like, for example, that you could be as self-absorbed with how exceptional you are as Ei-chan7?

Sakurai: …I really do, without everyday life.

Ichikawa: What I’m asking is, can’t you become that way?

Sakurai: I can’t~. I don’t like being interfered with, and I switch Sakurai Atsushi off in those moments. (laughs)

Ichikawa: But there’s David Bowie, who isn’t doing fan service around the clock, but at work...(laughs) As a charismatic person, you can behave as you see fit, right? Although I think you could do it if you tried, you’d always agonize between those two selves.

Sakurai: I wonder why...because I’m afraid of being caught off guard?

Ichikawa: Don’t you think you’re cool?

Sakurai: there are times when I think, “I am super cool”, but there are also times where I think, “What am I doing?!” (laughs) I’m hard on myself, maybe.

Ichikawa: But, it’s simpler8 to think of yourself as cool, isn’t it?

Sakurai, Yes, much simpler. But in order for me to think so, I have to aim for being an entertainer, and I’m no good.

Ichikawa: This orientation you have toward being an entertainer is also being taken too far, actually – it’s like chloroform you breathe in every day until you lose consciousness.

Sakurai: Wahahahaha. That’s harsh!

Ichikawa: Don’t you want to become more arrogant and charismatic?

Sakurai: I really just want to shine within music, if it’s something I’m able to do. Aah...I see...maybe...I’m rebelling against it, aren’t I. Everyone views me as a rockstar, so I wonder if maybe I simply want to betray that notion and rebel against it.

Ichikawa: Does the so-called narcissistic state, where you can think of yourself as cool, not last long? It seems like only the high of not caring what the people around you think lasts, but. (laughs)

Sakurai: It doesn’t really last, no. It’s like...I end up able to see reality. That I’m someone who can go as far as narcissism, but can’t sustain it, I can see that.

Ichikawa: But without narcissism, the fantasy of rock won’t flourish, right? You’re a man who can’t be proactive, aren’t you?

Sakurai: Yeah...but that’s quite kind, because it makes people’s dreams of it expand more and more. I don’t really seem very kind, talking selfishly about my own needs while also saying, “I won’t show you the important parts.”

Ichikawa: If you said more, would it be like, “It’s your fault for coming to love me without my permission”?

Sakurai: (laughs) I wouldn’t say their fault...more like, it’s a waste. If I could be understood even if I didn’t say anything, I’d be extremely happy, because I hate the regret I feel after babbling out an explanation. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Then, explaining yourself to an ordinary person who thinks of you as a rocker must also be miserable.

Sakurai: That’s right. But...lately, my way of thinking about it changes all the time. Sometimes I think, “I’m gonna make that guy who doesn’t know me take another look!”, and other times I think, “It’s no good! I’m tired.” (laughs)

Ichikawa: So then, as I thought, you do think you’re cool, don’t you? If you were to call out to the women on the roadside over there9, you have confidence they’d quickly follow you here, right?

Sakurai: If I wanted to do it. (laughs) But using the energy is more trouble than it’s worth. I think maybe I’m unkind in that way.

Ichikawa: Well, calling out to them isn’t really nice either. (laughs)

Sakurai: Oh. (laughs) But, I’m thinking I want to become less sentimental, colder.

Ichikawa: What’s the reason behind that?

Sakurai: Because I have a heart. Wahahahahaha.

Ichikawa: Well, regardless of some minor occurrences of it, (laughs) Sakurai Atsushi doesn’t have any arrogance, really, in the bigger picture of things.

Sakurai: But I’ve also come to understand that I could be just a bit easier on myself, too. I think I could become cooler if I did.

Ichikawa: As Sakurai, and as BUCK-TICK, too, even though you’re this deeply self-centered person who doesn’t care about the existence of other people at all10, I think gradually it becomes necessary to see yourself objectively. And you have to become aware of the influence you have.

Sakurai: Lately, I’ve been chatting with people who have the same tastes as me, and it’s interesting to see how I can come to see myself when I see those people. While I was drinking in Osaka, a person came and sat down who said, “I can see ghosts” – why, I wonder, is it always that sort of person who comes to me? (laughs) But, it turned to conversation about our newest song, “die”, and they said, “You’re definitely a narcissist”, and I was like, “Ah, right, right, I’d forgotten that, now that you mention it.” The person I show other people is a narcissist; I felt like I’d forgotten.

Ichikawa: In the end, those types of people are the ones who come together under Sakurai with peace of mind, don’t you think?

Sakurai: That’s true. I think the people who are thinking about me must be seeing me with some amazing eyes.11

Ichikawa: Give those “amazing eyes” a response, a spectacular one.

Sakurai: I think it will change during our current tour. (laughs)

Ichikawa: (laughs) With that – BUCK-TICK is a band where the members take walking alone endlessly to the extreme, right? The most of any in Japan.

Sakurai: That’s out of my control. There’s nothing I can do about that.

Ichikawa: And that’s also why you feel like you can’t effectively exert your influence, I imagine.

Sakurai: Hmmm...so, I expect that I’m afraid of cheapening what I do. I just did what I wanted to do, so. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Are you being careful with your words?

Sakurai: You could call it being careful; you could call it cowardice.

Ichikawa: Certainly, in the early years – you may have been perceived as cheap during the pop era of your music where your hair was straight up, but since then, I think conversely, you’re perceived as a luxury good.

Sakurai: Yeah, I think we aren’t perceived as cheap, but I certainly have fear of being thought of that way.

Ichikawa: That’s like an ordinary girl thinking, “Don’t become friends with that person” about a yankii in their same class.

Sakurai: (laughs) Is that so?

Ichikawa: This yankii is stubborn, but in reality, he’s facing the dilemma of wanting to be friends with anyone at all.

Sakurai: Exactly. (laughs) But, I’ve been thinking that from now on, we should harden up more, get colder, and that I hope that those who don’t care about our music don’t bother with it. I hope that those who do care it experience it whenever they get the chance, and that those who don’t, never experience it again.

Ichikawa: Well, but, you’re so cool, so wouldn’t it be better to be more free-spirited?

Sakurai: Hahaha. I’m always overthinking things like that.

Ichikawa: I wonder if that overworrying is part of your personality.

Sakurai: Hmmm...I don’t know. But I’m always thinking about how I want others to enjoy and be happy.

Ichikawa: Even so, there are a lot of ups and downs in everyday life. (laughs)

Sakurai: Hahaha. I may not be handling them so well.

Ichikawa: Well, in the end, trouble always ends up coming about.

Sakurai: And that’s why all you can do is stand your ground, right...or I’m going to act out that pretense. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Have you been acting pretentious lately?

Sakurai: Quite pretentious.

Ichikawa: Anyway, you’ve got a good face for it.

Sakurai: Yeah.

Ichikawa: Oh, an easy agreement on that from this guy.

Sakurai: Fufufufufufu.

Ichikawa: So, if you acted like you owned the place, you could powerfully establish your own world – and moreover, externally, Sakurai is already waiting for it. All that’s left is you feeling like doing it.

Sakurai: ...it’s troublesome, you know.

Ichikawa: You sure are BUCK-TICK’S frontman.

Sakurai: (laughs) I want to have an effective presence that has a detailed edge to it. More than feeling like a big, enveloping presence.

Ichikawa: Aren’t you seeking a long life full of detail?

Sakurai: No way! (laughs) But, lately I’ve realized this. Because I’m using energy on this tour. (laughs) How can I say this...it’s like more...pushing forward the next day while feeling like, “I’m losing it, aren’t I?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: You’re a man predestined to being a paradox.

Sakurai: ...Has this ended up being an unspectacular interview? (laughs)

Ichikawa: Well, even if we sang “Shimauta”12 at karaoke, we didn’t sing “die”, so. (laughs) It’s considered special, you know, definitely.

Sakurai: Even if we’re doing something special, like – I end up feeling like everything is lumped together. I feel like the people who listen to music have become cowards, too. Like the provocation is frightening to them.

Ichikawa: Even though the propagation of provocation is the theme of this band.

Sakurai: Right. And moreover, we’re trying to even out the high and low points of unevenness, and there’s a feeling of something unseen moving.

Ichikawa: When it’s that way, you can only go back to the basics and put your hair straight up again!

Sakurai: Right? Although I wasn’t aware of it during the time my hair was up, that “We are special” thing.

Ichikawa: But I think if you put it up now, you might be able to do it having that awareness.

Sakurai: Imai currently has a mohawk while having that awareness.

Ichikawa: Well then, next will it be Sakurai Atsushi with his hair up?!

Sakurai: When should I put it up...people might say, “It’s uncool!” (laughs) I really don’t want to use my energy on that sort of thing. (laughs)

~~~~~ Footnotes: * This makes more sense as you read the interview - basically, I think he's saying that he argues Sakurai ought to be more lenient with himself. 1 A French movie star. 2 A reference to a manga. Kitaro is a “sullen ghost boy” who “protects others from malicious spirits”. 3 The biggest name in Johnny’s of that time, and still one of their biggest ever. 4 Human-ness? I don’t know a better word for this in English. They want him to emote, talk more, things like that. 5 Very dramatic word choice here – literally “suffering until you faint”. 6 Who are not ordinary people, obviously, lol. 7 Eikichi Yazawa, a big Showa-era rockstar. 8 Simpler in the sense of more comfortable; less work. 9 I wonder if he was actually gesturing to someone, or if this was hypothetical. 10 I think he’s ribbing him here – calling him out on his bullshit. Sakurai is repeatedly trying to say this about himself and then contradicting it. 11 In other words, they are seeing a version of him that he doesn’t believe actually exists. 12 A 1992 song by the band “The Boom”.

~~~~~ Some final translation notes:

I don't know who put the LibreOffice suggestion on my dash, but I used that to type this up this time instead of Google docs, and it seems to have preserved the footnotes (at least on desktop.) I'll try and test this on mobile too but hopefully it's a better experience!

Also, just a basic note on "cool" in Japanese - kakkoii. It's commonly translated as "cool" but really encompasses things like being attractive, sexy, etc. in ways I think the word in English doesn't. I think its usage packs more punch when you think of it that way, as like "heart eyes, motherfucker" cool.

[noxturnalnymph]

Believer

Dave York x F!Partner(FBI), Chubby Dave York vs Tractor Beam (2.3k)

Summary: Submission for Beef’s October Fic Prompt Challenge - Dave York Made Me Believe:

Someone must be a non-believer (reader or Dave)

The following wording: Dave was not one who liked to be influenced to do anything, let alone that.

The X-files must be mentioned or referenced at least once.

Warnings: spooky pacific northwest vibes, all-around silliness, no sex, references to tall blue vibrating aliens (iykyk) A/N: Thank you to @strang3lov3 for green-lighting this premise and for editing away all my many mistakes. I love you @beefrobeefcal. I told you I would only write about aliens of the Ice-Planet-variety and I think this fits the bill. Happy Halloween!

Dave’s partner simultaneously snaps shut her flip phone and guns the engine, causing the car to lurch forward and the Big Mac he’s holding to slam against his chest. Special sauce dribbles down his tie as Dave shoots her a deadly side-eye.

“That was the division director we met on Tuesday,” she offers by way of explanation, typing in an address in the GPS as she drives, oblivious to the burger collision she’s just caused. “He gave us this location he wants us to check out,”

“Is there a lead on the shipping container theft?” Dave mumbles with his mouth full, as he smushes a napkin to his tie, smearing the greasy sauce further into the fabric. 

“No, it has nothing to do with that, but we’re the only critical incident response unit in the area so he wants us to make contact right away.”

She finishes speaking and then immediately turns her music - an Alanis Morissette CD she’d shoved into the deck - up as loud as she can. Dave has only been working with this agent for a week and even though she came highly recommended, he finds her to be quite irritating. He tries to dab more sauce away from his tie as he finishes his fast food dinner, opting instead to remove the tie completely by the time the car comes to a halt behind a sole forest service cruiser on a long, foggy stretch of road.

“We’re here,” his partner says, grabbing his milkshake and taking it with her out of the vehicle.

“We’re-, where the fuck are we?” Dave says to an empty car as she closes the door and starts walking towards the woods.

Dave exits the vehicle and trudges into the tree-line where he saw his partner disappear, his footsteps crunching on dried pine needles and the crisp air of the approaching evening creeping down his open collar. He wishes he had worn his suit jacket today but since he’s put on a few pounds it doesn't fit him very well anymore, so he left it at the hotel.

He emerges in an eerily still clearing to find his partner standing alongside a forest ranger who appears to be speaking with two hunched figures, huddled under thick blankets. She swivels her head, eyebrows climbing up her forehead as she spots him, and heads towards him with bounding steps. As she approaches Dave grabs the milkshake container out of her hands only to find it empty.

“That was mine,” he grumbles.

“You can afford to share,” she snarks, motioning towards his distended belly. “This is really interesting; see those two girls over there?” she points to the only two people besides government employees in the small field. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Dave mutters sarcastically.

“They’re claiming they were abducted by aliens,” she exclaims.

“Aliens?” Dave repeats.

“Isn’t that awesome?”

“What the-, like little green men, aliens?” Dave huffs, incredulous that they’d be pulled away from a major port theft investigation to be sent to the middle-of-nowhere north of Seattle for this insanity; a couple of local kooks claiming they were probed by space men. 

“Hopefully big blue aliens,” she replies excitedly.

Before he can ask what she means she is practically skipping back towards the small group, and Dave doesn’t have it in him to join. He knows she’s experienced enough to handle this kind of call - a complete waste of his time - and so instead he shuffles around the clearing. He takes a small flashlight out of his pocket to fight against the encroaching darkness settling as the sun dips behind the evergreen treeline.

Flashing his light on the ground he notices the tall grass is still wet from the morning dew, as if the sun didn’t get a chance to touch this little clearing in the woods today. He walks around the edges of it, noting how odd it is that there seems to be a perfectly oval patch of trees missing among these thick woods. As he rounds the circle he approaches the group and can see now that the huddled figures are two women, both pale and shaking. 

He makes eye-contact with the forest ranger - an older gentleman with a graying mustache - each of them giving the other a subtle nod as he passes by. He watches as his partner writes on the small spiral-bound bound notebook she keeps in her blazer pocket. He can’t say she’s not a good agent, she’s been very knowledgeable and thorough so far, but she’s just so-. Dave loses his train of thought as he tunes into the conversation.

“I’m not sure,” the young woman with glasses whispers. Dave spots floral tattoos cascading across her chest before she draws the blanket closer together. “Colette would have had a better view of them since I was face down on the table the whole time.”

His partner - eyes down and still writing notes - turns to the other woman, whose long, dark hair is unbound by the blanket she is bundled in and is gently blowing in the breeze.

“So, how would you describe them? Were they tall, maybe over seven feet? Would you describe their coloring as a shade of blue or steely gray? Did you notice any horns on their heads? Or fangs?”

“Well- Ummm,” the woman stammers.

Dave puts his hands on his hips and gives his partner a look that he hopes communicates the ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ thoughts screaming inside his head. 

Before he can give voice to any of his thoughts he notices the long-haired woman has stopped speaking and is staring at him, slack-jawed. His partner looks back over her shoulder and sees his pissed-off look, mouthing ‘what?’ and then beckoning him forward. He shook his head. Dave was not one who liked to be influenced to do anything, let alone that. He would absolutely not be participating in this charade. His partner turns back to the conversation and since she got no response from the second woman - Colette, apparently - she turns back to the tattooed woman.

“Did you hear them speaking any kind of words you could understand?” his partner questions.

“Actually, yes, but I don’t think you’re gonna believe me,” she answers. 

“What did they say? Maybe you heard a kind of humming or a vibrating resonance too?”

Dave rolls his eyes and sees the second woman still staring at him, her eyes glazed over. He feels like he’s being punk’d, that this trip out to the damp, darkening woods is someone’s idea of a poorly-executed practical joke. Annoyed that his time is being wasted when he could be back at the hotel with his feet up and his pants unbuttoned, he turns away from the group and continues inspecting the area. He shines his flashlight back and forth as he walks, seeing nothing but his shoes getting more muddy with each step.

Suddenly, his light catches on a small, shining piece of silver. Bending over with a huff, he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. It’s a cylindrical shape the size of two of his fingers with a rounded end, like an oversized rivet. He doesn’t think aliens would use such primitive technology and tosses it into the air, chuckling to himself as he catches it and tucks it into his pocket.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a small light flashing inside the forest that continues beyond the small clearing. He turns to say something to his partner but she’s busy talking and he’s a bit creeped out by the fact that the long-haired woman is still staring at him with heavily lidded eyes, mouth still slightly ajar. He ducks into the dark provided by the heavy tree cover and heads towards the strange blinking.

He continues walking, the light farther away than he initially thought. He has to heft himself over a large fallen tree trunk that spans left and right as far as his eyes can see and then hop a small creek that runs through the low point he’s come across. On the other side of the running water he sees the blinking light, larger now that he’s up close. The only problem is that it’s about 10 feet up in a tree, making it almost impossible for him to see exactly what it is. 

He can’t hear his partner talking this deep in the woods and any leftover sunlight from the opening in the forest behind no longer reaches him. He’s thinking how glad he is to have his flashlight with him as he draws the beam of it up the trunk of the tree to the flashing device. He halts any movement, sucking in a breath when the trembling light reaches it and his eyes grow wide at what he sees. 

The device is being held in tiny hands between two small, yellow, cylindrical-shaped beings wearing what look to be denim overalls, who stare at him with large eyes blinking behind silver-rimmed goggles. One is about two feet tall with one eye and the other is over a foot taller with two eyes and a stalk of hair that sticks straight up. 

They are all frozen in place, staring at each other until he hears a sound behind him, like tiny feet shuffling on dried pine needles. He slowly turns to look back and sees an even smaller two-eyed being holding something out in his hands towards Dave.

“Bah-nah-na?” it asks, in a high-pitched nasally voice.

Dave doesn’t have time to think about how much whoever put him up to this must be laughing, he only thinks about getting the fuck out of there, and he immediately turns and starts running away. He doesn’t scream when both legs go ankle-deep in the cold creek or when he catches a foot under a root, twisting his leg at an unnatural angle. He does, however, let out a loud grunt when he slams his overweight body into the forgotten fallen tree trunk, prostrating himself against the ground, knocking all the wind out of his lungs.

He begins to mutter curses but freezes again when a bright light beams down on him from above, illuminating a blinding circle around him. No fucking way, he thinks. Then he feels it, a force drawing him upwards towards the light. It lifts his arms first, then his legs, his head leaves the ground and he begins to reach out, belly still touching the forest floor, clawing at the ground in a desperate attempt to find something to grab onto.

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath his hands, his futile attempt to clutch onto something failing as his heavy middle is lifted several inches off the ground. He puts his arms and legs beneath him and then - on all fours - scrambles out of the beam of light. It seems to take a moment for the light to find him again, he watches as it zig-zags around the ground, before finally locking onto him several feet away. 

He hasn’t been able to get very far and he’s panting, winded at the physical effort, when the force begins to draw him up again. This time he does cry out, he screams for his partner only for the sound of his voice to be sucked above him, like screaming into the raging wind. He is lifted fully off the ground now, several feet up, and he’s still shouting and pawing wildly at the air.

He hears a metalling ‘clunk’ sound and hears several items drop onto the ground beneath him. Before he can wonder what they are he sees them float past his face, more rivets like the one in his pocket. The light dims for a moment as the force lessens slightly, dropping him halfway back to the ground. When it resumes its upward pull on him it appears to struggle, moving even slower than before. He hears several more clunking noises and then the light goes out completely, the invisible force dropping him back down to the ground.

He lets out another groan as he hits the hard ground once again but this time he doesn’t waste any time, jumping to his feet as quickly as possible and heaving himself forwards. He bursts back into the clearing - now completely dark - and two flashlights point at his red, damp face.

“York, what the hell?” he hears his partner’s voice from behind one of the flashlights.

He heads towards the voice as she moves the flashlight along his body, most likely seeing the evidence of his time scrambling in the dirt and his mad dash through the dark woods. He feels the bones in one of his feet throbbing and knows there are scratches all over his face from branches he ran into during his escape.

“I-, there-, it-, they-”, with each word he manages to get out he stops to take three gulping breaths.

“York, relax, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack, big guy,” she says, as the ranger offers him a canteen of water, which he gladly accepts and begins to swallow down.

“I- I saw them,” Dave finally sputters, the canteen rattling in his trembling hands.

“Who?” she asks, brows knitted together.

“Them,” Dave whispers, eyes wide as he looks upwards at the sky.

“Very funny, York, ha ha,” she says, dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I-”

“I know this isn’t your thing but don’t worry, there’s two other agents who just showed up and they’re gonna take this case off our hands.”

“What? Who?” he says, eyes scanning the treeline in the dark - for people or creatures unknown.

“I dunno, some hot guy and a pretty little redhead. Let’s get back to the car, we can stop at Dairy Queen on the way back to the hotel and get you another milkshake.”

[dittaturamonegasca]

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

[hyperfixiation-station]

I really like digging into details, and I was thinking that maybe you can make a list of hcs of Simon in a fight? Don’t spare your words I really think it’s interest your view of him 🥰

CW: Mentions of abuse, sa, addiction, canon typical violence So I wasn’t 100% what you were looking for so I decided to go for both him fighting in a professional setting (ie. training/sparring), and also in public(ie. bar fights). Also, this got way longer than I intended so sorry about that. I hope you like it :)) Also sorry for how aggressive this starts out lol And, as always, this is not edited so please let me know if there are any mistakes :3

First off, I do not agree with the whole oH he’S iN tHe miLiTarY, he HaS tO kEeP hIs CoOl sentiment. This is not a true statement, for anyone in the military.(I am willing to explain this if anyone has questions) Ghost isn’t going to get kicked out because he has anger issues. Not to mention that he is a part of a highly specialized group, the rules are much more lax. However he doesn’t really need to worry about it, because he doesn't go around picking fights. 

Like I said in my previous post, he spent his childhood being abused, he does not take pleasure in physically hurting those weaker than him. He would not hurt new recruits, civilians, or his squadmates. In fact, the only times he will physically fight people outside of work is if they start it. (ie. people threatening him and his, men who won’t leave women alone at bars, and one time a guy he saw kicking a dog) 

Now don’t get me wrong, he has major anger issues, but he has a handle on them, for the most part. He is not going to fight a recruit because they are mouthing off. He might pit them against Gaz to humble them a bit, but again, he does not take pleasure in hurting those weaker than him. 

In a fight, he is ruthless and efficient. It's rare for him to draw out a fight, and only when he is trying to make the target suffer.

He uses his height and muscle mass against his opponents, 9/10 being able to overpower them with sheer force.

He loves knives, collects them actually. The action of slamming a blade up to the hilt in someone's neck is muscle memory for him.

He taunts his opponents, throwing them off their game by lashing out at their insecurities. (Or telling really bad jokes if he's sparring with Soap)

He doesn't like fighting, but he knows he can never stop. Since the moment he was born he's been fighting. It's in his blood and he knows it. The euphoria he feels when he leaves the battlefield or the ring scares him. He's worried that one day he is going to take his bloodlust home.

Okay now onto professional/work-endorsed fight hc’s

This man is not afraid to throw hands. He is 6’2 and 220 pounds of pure muscle. In hand-to-hand combat, he could take pretty much anyone on and win, and everybody knows it.(Think Prison Break. Ghost went out with a knife and a pistol and took out a buttload of Shadows with just Soap guiding him from the cameras.) Any mission that is Close Quarters Combat, Ghost is sent in. 

He has fought a recruit once. It took him about 10 seconds to pin the kid, and another 10 seconds for him to tell Price he was never training a recruit like that again. (tbh I don’t think that the 141 trains new recruits, but for the sake of getting my point across I am going to hc it.)

Soap and Price are the only ones he is willing to spar with. While Soap is much shorter, he has muscle that rivals Ghost’s and can hold his own pretty well. Gaz asked to spar once but Ghost refused. Although Gaz is close to him in height, he is far too skinny for Ghost to feel okay with fighting. 

Soap is agile and intelligent, landing heavy and precise blows before darting out of reach, but is too hot-headed and doesn’t think through his movements half-the time. Ghost is good at reading people, and he knows when to bait Soap and tire him out, and when he needs to take control of the situation. 

Ghost studies Soap’s (or any of his opponents really) body with a warrior's mind. In training, when they are clad in gym shorts and a T-shirt, he can tell which way the Scotsman is going to lunge just based on the way his muscles tense. In the field it is a bit harder, his targets usually clad from head to toe, hiding and protecting their bodies, but there are still signs. Just a twitch of the eye or a shift in weight are enough to give him the upper hand. As any child that is a product of a dysfunctional home can attest, he grew up watching these signs in his father, it wasn't too hard to translate those survival skills from childhood to military life. 

If they end up training recruits, Price will have them line up and watch as Soap and Ghost go at it. Ghost enjoys that fear in their eyes when he grabs Johnny's wrist and yanks down, uses his free hand to push the opposite shoulder back, and sweeps his legs out from under him all in one swift move. The collective oooooh from the greenies, and the sight of Soap gasping for breath makes him almost smile. He actually does smile when he watches Soap pull it on Gaz a week later. (It takes Soap exactly 3 tries to figure out how to avoid Ghost when he tries to pull it, and another 3 for him to try it on Gaz and get it right). 

Price, and eventually Soap, can always tell when Ghost needs an outlet for his pent-up anger. When he gets mouthy one of them will take him to the mats and spar until they’re both exhausted and soaked in sweat. 

In the field it is a lot less fun and games. There is no subduing or tap outs, it is kill or be killed. Gaz understands why Ghost refuses to spar with him after he’s sent on a mission with him and watches in almost awe as the man lives up to his legend and comes out victorious in a 4v1. Banged up and in need of medical care, but victorious. 

Now onto the public

Honestly I don’t think adult Ghost gets into too many fights outside of work. Teen Ghost got into fights all the time, but adult Ghost has a better handle. However when he does get into a fight, it’s usually his fault, because he provoked the person into swinging. He has a way with words, a terrifying ability to pick out a person's insecurities and use them against them. He rips into people's emotions, and when most of the public places he frequents are bars, his targets are easily riled up. He doesn’t necessarily go looking for fights, he just enjoys pissing people off. 

Like I’ve said before, Ghost is not a heavy drinker. He was surrounded by addicts his whole life, he knows what alcohol and drugs can do to a person. He would never drink himself to the point of oblivion. He may have a drink or two when he and Johnny go out to the bar, might even let himself get a little tipsy if the squad is celebrating something huge, but he never gets drunk to the point where he can’t function. Because of this, any fight he gets into in a bar is resolved within seconds. One solid punch to the jaw, and the drunken asshole pawing at some young girl drops to the floor. A person who can’t even stand up straight has no chance against a member of Special Forces. 

He doesn’t take cheap shots. He’s not gonna kick a guy when they’re down. Once his opponent hits the ground, he stops. He very rarely loses control and just keeps going. 

He has been in a couple of bar fights, one time he took a bottle of alcohol to the head and had a hard time trying to explain to Price why he was given 15 stitches and a week's medical leave.(Not that he took it)

Sorry there's not a lot for this one. I just don’t see adult Simon getting into that many unwarranted fights. He will fuck a guy up if he’s harassing you, or any woman for that matter, he’ll step in if someone gets too rowdy at the bar, if they swing he’ll swing back, and he does not respond to threats against him and his very well,  but things like that really don’t happen to often in his way of life. 

Fight club(sorry I just keep going 😅😭)

This is a bit ooc, but I thought it was fun nonetheless

Soap takes him to a fight club once, just to watch, but Ghost is enthralled. Soap comes back from getting pretzels to an empty bench. He panics for a second before his gaze moves to the ring, where Ghost stands in a t-shirt and shorts, a plain balaclava hiding his face. Soap makes a lot of money that night. 

Ghost finds a new pass-time in this ‘fight-club’ that Soap showed him. It’s a great way to release pent-up energy when he is on leave, and he always leaves feeling relaxed and less volatile. 

When the memories and nightmares get too much for him, he goes and pounds it out in the ring. He finds  a man of his size and skill, and they become sparring partners almost every time.. Despite the broken ribs, he leaves feelings much happier. Price, however, is not when he hears that Ghost will be out of commission for at least a month. 

He goes by the nickname Reaper. (He let Soap pick it out, and regrets that decision deeply)

He enjoys the fight club almost more than he enjoys sparring with Soap. He enjoys being able to fight for fun rather than survival. The anonymity he’s allowed and the money that comes from winning is a nice bonus.

He still keeps to himself, declining his opponents/partners attempts to get a phone number or offers to grab a drink. 

If he’s married, you notice that he’s not quite as harsh when he gets back from deployments as he used to be. Though you don’t like his bruised knuckles and bloody noses, if this is what helps him process his trauma then so be it.

He takes you sometimes, to watch. You like watching him win, like the way the clothes cling to his muscled frame, but the sight of his face getting punched in is one you'd rather never see again.

They offer self-defense classes, and he signs you up. He had already taught you some self-defense tips, where to aim and how to hit in the even of an emergency, but he'd rather you have someone to practice with so you know what to do.

Extra(aka sad stuff)

I know that Ghost is not superhuman or immortal, but this man is a beast. He survived an abusive childhood, being kidnapped, tortured, assaulted, and the massacre of his whole family. He can fight through incredible amounts of pain, and is ruthless and blood thirsty. In a life or death situation, all morals go out the window, and he will do what it takes to survive. He’s not proud of it. 

When he holds his newborn son for the first time he almost panics. The fragile baby body feels wrong in his scarred, war-torn hands. He sits on the bed for a long time after you take the baby to put him down, just staring at his hands. His fingers curl and uncurl in his palm as he tries to get the image of crushing his baby's fragile skull like he's crushed the throats of his enemies out of his head. It takes hours for the feeling of blood to fade from his skin.

Anywayyys, I hope this is what you were looking for, and again, sorry for the length 😅 Let me know what you think and/or if you want more headcannons in the future :))

[whatudottu]

All this new Earthspark content (i say with a sigh, not liking what i see), just makes me think more about it? Season 1, so good I didn’t need to think about… give or take Shockwave and the rushed end. Season 2? God- and I’m hearing the bloody ‘Decepticon Dome’ is still around for I guess this is season 3 instead of 2b??

I feel like I wanna share my notes for a season 2 rewrite or at least some concepts for one (with some Shockwave edits from season 1) that I had written on… *looks at the date* 28th July just before I started my shift-

Let’s see what happens then :P

First of all, Shockwave.

What do you mean the fucking unethical science guy has issues with what he immediately labels as cybrids? TFP Father-of-Predacons guy? IDW Literally-Becomes-Onyx-Prime guy?

So you’d think my first idea is to turn him not-racist right? Make him curious about the terrans like (using my main Shockwave experience) his Prime’s equivalent interest in predacons, right?

But what if I didn’t, what if he still has that speciesism but… reflavoured it into something more fitting? Say the ‘medical exploitation’ variant of racism that TFES Shockwave can openly claim that ‘I know I’m doing all these unethical experiments to one specific group, but I would do the same for any cybertronus’ to use Mandroid’s scientific name, but really he doesn’t actually desire to experiment on others he might consider the ‘default’. The kind of racism that treats others as scientific wonders in need of full study.

Heh, TFP Shockwave got off lucky, his obsession was predacons and he only knew they were sapient after reviving one from the dead AND discovering it he could transform; something about archeology vs graverobbing :P

Shockwave in the season 1 finale thus has more willingness to work with people who he considers in some way to be lesser, at least different; what’s a good test for a species’ intelligence than watching them problem solve against a corrupt government organisation?

Now onto the actual fucking season 2 notes then shall we?

With GHOST and Mandroid gone we are lacking threats that aren’t the fucking Decepticons again. The Quintessons of course take Mandroid’s role of the active antagonist, the one or ones that act their own agenda divorced from a wider perspective, but who fills GHOST’s role as the passive background threat? Well, as GHOST was the only company/organisation that had extended their hand to establish a proper post-war cybertronian-human alliance, and they seemed to be pretty tied in to either the government or with heavy media scrutiny, in its place could be filled by the actual American government now labelling any and all cybertronian (and terran) presence as criminal behaviour and thus officially rendering them as illegal literal aliens.

I’m not saying this is what the show should’ve done because that is a fucking stretch, but if I’m gonna rewrite Earthspark that’s who I’d want to fill the slot, fanfiction (maybe bayverse) kinda stuff. Maybe for a ‘kid friendly’ ‘not-so-anti-american’ way to make it just a special task force that’s still paramilitary enough to not get conservatives to freak; but let it be known the original idea :P

Back to Mandroid, considering the type (and aesthetic) of his final cybernetics - as well as his sharkticon guards (?) that he from what I remembered freed from somewhere (like a fucking shark pit???) - what if he had in fact made contact with the quintessons and, learning that he was from Earth, they had assumed that humanity and the Malto children were the children of Quintus, they were in fact assumed kin by His abandonment. When Mo ends up waking the executioner, it is still however her cybersleeve that draws it’s attention, yet it is also the terrans that draw its ire as they seem kin to the cybertronians Quintus oh so favoured over them, but also because they are filled with Quintus’ energy and ‘getting in the affairs’ or ‘robbing the power’ of humanity by their disturbance.

It’s not particularly too far off of the actual canon motivations to coming to Earth, as they already view humanity as fellow creations of Quintus even if literally untrue and prefer them to cybertronians and specifically to the maltos, but just imagine them being more anti-cybertronian rather than ‘pick me’ over Quintus’ chosen (one of the better things about 2b/3, the Judge actually acknowledged that the human Maltos were another set of child soldiers chosen for a destiny beyond their years, heh even Prowl agrees).

In a way, with this, both the human government and the quintessons can come to the idea that (for their own reasons and information provided) cybertronian affairs disrupt the human way of life and need to - in one way or another - be punished for their ‘chaos’.

Regardless though, the Emberstone is still shattered, and it’s not coming back (though the characters don’t know that… yet).

What doesn’t happen between it shattering and it’s… let’s say ‘pieces’ for now… is that the Decepticons don’t ‘do what they do best’.

Without GHOST in the way to arrest any Decepticon by virtue of them losing the war, the Autobots can actually begin to offer a genuine chance at armistice. Maybe not full on peace, their existence is a little too criminalised at the moment to immediately settle give or take a millennia worth of war in one sitting, but it is so much easier to prove to the Decepticons that they do in fact have a chance of rest against vorns of war and years of imprisonment and - as much as saying so word for word may begrudge the mecha - can ‘prove’ that they are worth as much freedom as the Autobots so prattle on about if neither of them have power over them in the ways GHOST provided.

What are their current goals? 1) do not get captured by government agents; there’s only so many cybertronians left even with a large concentration in Witwicky, and who knows if GHOST sent their technology back to their military. 2) do not let the government know of the terrans’ existence; with what Mandroid was invested in and what GHOST had intended to learn from him, neither faction nor any of the Maltos want to let the terrans become fugitives or pet projects (the craziest scientist they’ll even begin to consider studying the terrans would be Shockwave but even then they’d prefer even bloody Tarantulas more than him). And 3) gather the Emberstone shards before the government does; if Mandroid literally killed every cybertronian and terran on Earth with one blast of the full thing, what is the strength of one fragment actually measured by?

Given that apparently a shard with just a little bit of water is enough to make an entire spark (or at least, depending on what we learnt from 2a or the designs in 2b/3) act in replacement to a spark, probably decently powerful enough-

But to quote Brennan Lee Mulligan in his quite popular Game Changer, on a planet with 70% water coverage, weather patterns of a few sorts that scatter H2O in its many states to its surface, and all the time in the world between the Emberstone shattering and scattering, it is a “…statistical wonder…” that there were TWO (count them, 2) ‘’’’’’’’’Chaos’’’’’’’’’ terrans throughout - I’ll give it this - the entirety yet exclusively of the Americas.

First of all, FUCK THE TERM ‘CHAOS’ TERRAN! Let’s describe them as shard-spark for now, continuing to use Mandroid’s scientific terms we do not know if there’s a particular biomechanical difference beyond the Emberstone shard to sever the terrans AKA cybertronus terran from their new shattered siblings… or perhaps only cousins.

Second of all, shard-spark terrans are NOT born evil, just troubled in whatever relevant ways their circumstances cause them to be. Most often however without the conflict between the factions, a lot them if they do not happen upon a body of water in a location of dry weather conditions or even unluckily get stuck in a glass display would end up probably already being terrans by the time Autobots, Decepticons and 3rd or 4th party lock onto their signal to track them down from interesting community reports.

You know what was funny? Seeing everyone fall in love with Breakdown projecting a father-son relationship onto Aftermath who conversely didn’t give a shit, because y’all would just see Breakdown imposing that as just the cutest thing ever when he literally didn’t earn the right to think that way about a stranger that happened to be a child.

No, if Breakdown wants his ‘being a parent’ moment, he needs to put his back into it and make an effort to at least fucking try to be a parent? Hell, he can fucking suck at it and maybe even fall into a similar situation where he imposes the parent-child relationship onto a bad relationship, the main caveat being that it isn't supposed to be funny that Aftermath doesn't get it.

Breakdown can be the first contact with a shard-spark terran, maybe a few others or maybe alone, maybe he and Bumblebee took it upon themselves to race towards a shard only to discover a lost child. Instead of the fucking gang recruitment way 2a attempts to explain Aftermath going along with Breakdown, both the racers are mildly freaking out that there's a solitary kid who may or may not be a little fucking pissy right, just in the very spot both their scanners are saying IS the Emberstone shard they've been tracking. It takes a harsher more Decepticon standard demand to get Aftermath to follow either of them over a softer weaker Autobot plea; a force of habit for both of them, even if Breakdown starts actively avoiding Bee's responding glare.

Something about Breakdown associating harsh orders, reprimands and mutual hostility says more about him and his relationship to 'family' than it does on Aftermath sneering at squishy feelings that make him feel weird and preferring the worse treatment since it's the one thing he's got experience in. Something about how in fandom spaces every group of people is immediately turned into found family or just straight up family? Well- considering that Breakdown joined the Decepticons because the Stunticons also had done so (and changing Breakdown's association of Decepticons as family down to Stunticons as family), considering that most iterations of the characters 4 mentally ill soldiers and an abusive leader that actively preys on his team's weaknesses then... heh.

Breakdown finding the bickering and the fighting and the unspoken assumptions of that meaning family... it DOES mean more for Breakdown than it does for Aftermath doesn't it? :P

I don't think I got a good order with this but :P With GHOST gone the Autobots don't have a main base anymore, and by don't I fucking MEAN IT they don't go back to GHOST headquarters after all is said and done; it would be the first place to look for cybertronian activity after the government finds out the closest thing humanity had for bot sympathisers went belly up after all. Between them and the newly freed Decepticons, there is only one neutral ground between them on the Malto farm, but it would be Starscream to bring up stink over it (if even in his mischaracterisation in 2a he labels Autobots as oppressors) siting that the Malto's are functionally civilian and shouldn't - whether or not they could at all in the first place - be responsible for the housing of all these soliders; it's a farm, not a warbase, there is no need to bring more children into their squabble especially with the likelihood of crossfaction shared quarters he'd say.

There is one fortification left to stand against potential government hunting, even if it means to repair defense systems and cloaking devices, even signal scramblers just to hopefully allow rest to those tired of running. None of the Autobots would be happy about it - the Decepticons might disagree seeing it as potentially a little bit funny and as a little bit of petty revenge - but that base may or may not happen to be quite purple in it's paintjob, Decepticon base. To offer the curtsy that none of the 'Cons were given however, the Autobots in addition to the betrayer Megatron would be allowed free reign of the base, give or take a few zones off-limits even to lower ranked Decepticon forces. It's not like the Autobots would have left the base unraided in their time under GHOST's thumb, so there's no doomsday weapons to be wary of anyone activating.

Actual base life doesn't feel horrible for the Decepticons who, thanks in all due part to Megatron's aggressive leadership and hostile work environment, are already particularly used to being near permanently on guard even at rest; if the Autobots still had a base of their own in the local area the Decepticons would've made an easy transition even if still incredibly tense. It takes an extremely disciplined trigger for the Autobots not to snap under the tension, everyone save for Megatron who is used to being on edge, unfortunately for him the Decepticons give him shit constantly and tends to skew towards aggravating him than any of the 'Bots.

However, at the very least the remaining scientists have access to Shockwave's lab, which he might be more willing to share if it helps Wheeljack and Tarantulas to agree to run some tests on the terrans and actually begin to study them to get the full picture, at least as full as they can without dissection which is one of the compromises Shockwave would have to contend with especially if Nightshade wants to be science team buddies with at least the other 2. Either way, probably the least hostile section in the crosshabitation Decepticon base? Mostly because of the fact they're all agreeing to science together rather than punch each other.

But not everyone actually remains in the base, some take off to find better opportunities or because they find the base environment more stiffling than usual real free spirit types, AKA Breakdown. And also why I don't think I ordered this the right way- but I suppose from Emberstone to 'chaos' terran to Aftermath to Breakdown may break if I went no GHOST to no Autobot base to 'don't hide warriors in civilian homes' to Decepticon base to Breakdown to Aftermath... actually no... because then I can go to 'chaos' terran again and bring up Spitfire and others.

So, speaking of...

Shard-spark terrans, while not guaranteed to be trouble-kids so to speak, they are more predisposed to such given the circumstances of their creation in addition to the presence of the shard they are aptly named after. Aftermath is of course a bit of a destruction lover, it feels so good to break things it's often quite the shame that to have a broken thing, you must destroy something that may or may not have a use when it is unbroken. Breaking trees, breaking roads, breaking armour (even if it's a little baby dent to a soldier who's dealt with worse from a kid who didn't even exist up until a week ago), all the same to Aftermath who loves the thrill of it and hates things that make that thrill go away.

Can't even make a dent in that annoying Jawbreaker's armour! Ugh, he'll just have to teach JB to break something for him to make these gross feelings stop AKA JB discovers 'breaking things' stim and (with a bonus quick rewrite of his altmode episode where HE'S the one wreaking havoc on town because 'STOP BABYING HIM' 'WHY WON'T YOU LIKE ME' 'I HAVE AN ALTMODE NOW WHY DON'T YOU PAY ATTENTION TO ME' feelings) feels like really bad about it when he wants to break more things and scream :P good thing his mum's a veteran she can probably get him to do a war cry!

Spitfire kinda immediately did a gifted kid speedrun I think instead, Twitch 2.0 with a better drone model with better and more capabilities and the speed to out fly the out-mode, only up until it is Twitch who is preferred for her softer attitude and willingness to give up all that lets her win for someone else. Look Megatron, if you introduce a 'non-deadly' version of the Polyhex Protocol, maybe make fucking sure there is literally no fucking way for someone to be in immense 'death by falling' danger? Look look look look look- you put a newborn into her first race (btw, created while falling and thus having first hand experience that falling isn't deadly), say it's not to the death, and expect her not to assume that the giant cliff beneath the flying fox was also safe?? And that you had initially planned the Malto CHILDREN to run the course also and yet failed to create a proper safety net, literally or not you have a flight mode you could've played spotter!

Is Spitfire without fault? No, but what do you expect a newborn storm child to know about safety especially with a competitive streak like the one she's fast to develop! You all told her how she has the better altmode and 'better than this' why are you all looking at her like she'd suddenly BROKEN!?

And all these fuckers think they can all hug it out while she stands out in the rain biting and gnawing for attention?! Gross!

:P AKA Spitfire is like 12 (minutes) old and already fallen from grace, no wonder she gets a kick out of mutual 'want to bite people' sibling Aftermath :P

I think these thoughts are spiraling though to be fair my notes are also at this point spiraling-

Spitfire and Aftermath love to brawl with each other, it's too wild to be called sparring but it's not particularly deadly enough to call a battle, though it does get out of hand in ways that Breakdown - if he's still trying for parenthood - isn't even prepared to deal with (bumblebee voice: first time?). During one such brawl, Breakdown alternating between chasing the pair and backing off as they throw in more hits on each other, the kids accidentally run into Skullcruncher and - instead of backing down like someone more in the know - end up dragging him out of his listless reverie when Spitfire dodges Aftermath's double hammerfist after he threw her into the Decepticon.

Now why am I bringing up Skullcruncher is he secretly my favourite character? No, no he really isn't. But considering he's been used as a tool to not only display Mandroid's mind control technology as well as the visible consequences of that technology being used by GHOST, I feel as though he'd been left in the dust to kinda... regress? To disappear into his head? Some fucked up torture coping really, just in a literal brainwashing sense since :P GHOST wanted a pet project test subject. The aforementioned science team, with the help of everyone that was mind controlled and able to tell of it, have been trying to work through the brainfog it seems to have left Skullcruncher with. Regardless of the actual care they have for him specifically, they want to know if there's any actual lingering corruption on a mecha's processor all in due part because of it, to see if it would affect them physically as it had done mentally.

Between Shockwave's calculated response only providing his own experience in cold logic, Hashtag's experience (Shockers listing her under 'confounding variable' because of her status as a terran) having been used to connect her to Starscream when it counted the most whether or not she was good at playing therapist as a child full of fears and no wisdom, and Megatron nearly gunning down a kid he believed to be the hope of all cybertronian kind (all of the science team is reminded of how he has changed, how he now feels guilt over the future he could've failed instead of snuffing it out himself without mind), there may be a few networks rewired via the cybertronian equivalent of neuroplasticity... but the results so far are inconclusive and it's looking more and more likely to just be biopsychological placebo and coping mechanism Skullcruncher invariably got himself stuck in.

But getting dragged into the antics of laughing yet snarling children, going around beating each other around base not out of malice but out of pure enjoyment and glee, being chased around by someone who has the time and freedom - if not, the ability to be panicked about something so relatively small - to try and deal with the situation? Sure, the first strike is always surprising, and maybe he panicked with something violent in response. But the shard-spark siblings were already in the ebb and flow of their fight, if they got caught or grazed by jaws, if they got hit or dodged a sweep of claws, they'll fight like they always enjoyed. Skullcruncher may not be fully present, may not ever be, but hey... maybe those kids can help fight away the monotony and get him out of his head, out of the past the same faces of over a million years couldn't get to sooner.

Something like that?

And to give more love to other side characters that don't even get voices, why not some more Insecticon content- hell, why not a shard-spark terran who becomes an Insecticon, or at least has a bug altmode that caters to their personality. The 'sit alone inside the tube of a playground set all recess' type, the 'uses thoughts to give themselves company' type, the 'weird loner' type who's non-verbal and asocial? A very patient praying mantis, who takes the bugs outside when they're in and wants to show others the cool little creatures? To BE a bug?

Breakdown, who's willingly tied himself down to who he immediately claimed as his kid... his kids now? He... let's Spitfire decide for herself if she wants to be that but... Aftermath calls him 'old man', that's... that's what humans call their 'dad' right? They both make his spark ache and he's growing more and more confused at why he doesn't just run, take to the streets and drive away where his spark can be free again. But the idea sends his systems into a stronger more whole-body version of the feeling, shooting through his chest down through his arms and legs, in ways that feel familiar but... warmer than with any of the Stunticons.

Bumblebee, who was more or less stuck with the Maltobots as Optimus changed his mission, having gotten to actually learn from them as they learnt from him; he knows the feeling, he knows it strongly. And if they get to hang out more now that they aren't actively fighting each other - though I guess it's still a mutual 'hiding from the government' thing isn't it - they might get to talking about it.

"Yeah, that's just classic worry for you." "Bee, I KNOW what worry feels like, we've been at war for Primus knows how long!" He hated the way it sounded like Bumblebee was brushing him off, emphasised with waving of his hand like he was dusting his plating. If his 'cool' slipped well, the 'Bot didn't press him on it. "Always worrying about dying, worrying about energon. Pit! Worried about shrapnel to the wheels, can't keep beating you in races if my tires blow." Maybe not the best thing to bring up considering... "This is different." It has to be, because he knows he worried about the Stunticons, and they were his family. But... "Breakdown," When did he look away? Breakdown turned back to face Bee, "it's worry FOR them. It's... it's a worry because you care? I care about the Maltos, for the humans AND the terrans, and... I feel worried about them?" He can't help it, Breakdown laughs. A quiet chuckle really, turned snickers as Bumblebee's expressions twist. "HEY! What's so funny about that!?" Just in time to feel a fist beat against his shoulder - right on that afformentioned wheel, hah - even though his optics are narrowed and dentae bared, Bee vents out a laugh he tried and failed to hide. "Mr Never-Settle-Down hiding some wisdom I missed?" He squints at the name but doesn't let that stop his smirk. "Hah, come on Bee, you said it like you were such an expert before! But look who's confused now, right? Because 'classic worry' is so hard to explain." Bumblebee shoves against Breakdown's chassis, venting out another huff. "Okay sure, I'm not perfect at explaining it but!" "You care about them, these new... shard-spark terrans?" Aftermath, Spitfire, almost instantly that burst of 'classic worry' runs his systems wild. "I'm not an expert, so don't quote me on anything but..." He offered up his hand, beckoning for Breakdown to take it in one bold move. "I can help with what I do know, yeah? You've got one handful of kids don't you." With another pulse of his spark, the 'classic worry' - that 'worry FOR them' emotion - shivers down his wires and back up to his chest. Wordlessly, Breakdown takes up the offer with a small quick nod of acknowledgement, and feels the residual tingle simmer. It's not the same feeling with the Stunticons, this kind of worry but... maybe that's a good thing. "Good talk, Feelings-Expert, now why don't I the Winning-Expert take you up on that race?"

Can you tell I hate the first episode of season 2b/3?

Get prepared for a mood shift, we'll be talking about GHOST again!

Obviously because GHOST going defunct and maybe so suddenly it's hard for anyone to corral it under control of the next in rank, it IS an entire organisation after all, there would be quite a few lingering resources within the building itself that the government may be interested in let alone the mecha that would be at a disadvantage to those who would access such resources. Mind control technology and research (definitely don't want the government having that), anti-cybertronian weapons and restraining tools, the fucking GHOST harddrives that were placed in the fucking public recycle centre A YEAR AFTER GHOST FUCKED OFF AND DIED!? Yep that's all getting scavenged, at least as best as they can be while the government is extracting as much resources they can without needing to be sneaky about it.

Hah, considering the lows GHOST is willing to go, one such section - another where the cybertronians can't seem to access one way or another - ends up leading to a morgue of cybertronians, Autobot AND Decepticon. Some of course were known casualties, others are now confirmed dead rather than missing, but missing is an apt term. Missing limbs, missing parts, missing heads. Open chests, open sparks, open processors. Cybertronians were only machines to GHOST, only machines to Mandroid, only machines to manipulate and not even mind control... reprogram would be the term more accurate.

With a well of supply for how cybertronian brains may work, of course someone could eventually slap a remote control onto them and pilot them like a puppet on strings, and it's something something pretty horrific yada yada robot corpse desecration is like nothing on human TV screens.

Hmm... as I said I did like that Prowl acknowledge that hey maybe kids shouldn't get involved with war (even if it might've been framed as 'are we sure children are capable of doing adult responsibilities), so I wonder if I should continue with what my July 28th notes say about him or not... hmm...

Okay! MAYBE! I think it could work?

ANYWAY! Villain Prowl who is a stickler for the rules, villainous only in the way a lawmaker is (read: maker) and collaborating with the government to work cybertronians into the system so that they may be apart of the judicial system, which uh fittingly reflects the quintesson motivation and probably would be really cool to parallel the two. Prowl finds out about human war crimes and goes 'hoo boy some if not a whole fucking many of these laws have been violated by the cybertronian war' and resolves to fix it, but under American government cannot do anything official nor fair while the law only considers humanity. Something something 'cybertronians shouldn't be held to human standard law' yada yada 'so you think yourself above it!?'

Maybe not VILLAIN Prowl per say, more antagonist Prowl who wants to atone for the crimes committed on Earth's surface and give back justice to the people but doing so in the only way he knows how, like a cop. Or at least like a second in command/high ranking Autobot commander and advisor, doing his 'due diligence' to make sure that justice is served and that crimes are punished, which I mean ACAB and all he's still a bastard about it by doing it AS FUCKING SOON as GHOST collapses or at least working actively after the fact but :P

Hah and yeah, Prowl would be stiff lipped about children engaging in conflict. For all the bastard cops that oh so value the punishment part of crime fighting, there are laws in other areas (especially around war) that are to the benefit of the innocent. It's just that war crimes seem to really be listed down after the war has official come to an end and the cybertronian war is still in armistice as of now, in due part because Prowl has committed to atoning NOW of all times :P

This was a bit of a mess, I hope you derive some enjoyment out of this