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shego1142 · 4 months ago

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So to begin with there’s a lot of merit to “water is wet” type studies, which is that researching things that “seem obvious” is good for documenting stuff that might otherwise not be provable or useful later on when the “obviousness” has been lost to time.

Remember how no one knew how to make ancient concrete because it was “so obvious” that it was mixed with sea water it wasn’t worth writing down? Yeah, always write everything down. In triplicate or more so.

But also this isn’t just some big own to the maga cult

This is like… an actual serious and real issue. Trump is quite literally a BITE model cult leader and he is preying on the underprivileged, and the poor (as well as the abused) to lead his cult.

Am I saying all maga enthusiasts are poor little babies who can’t help themselves? No. Obviously I’m not. Also this doesn’t apply to all of trumps followers either, a LARGE percentage of them are actually very smart and very wealthy and they know that Trump is going to cater to the very wealthy elites.

But this isn’t about them.

This is about your great grandma who wasn’t able to finish school past 5th grade because she had to get married to someone 4 times her age and she was pregnant by the time she was 12. She isn’t really into politics and doesn’t understand most of what they’re saying when it comes to legal jargon, but her pastor tells her that Trump is an honest good hearted man, and she guesses that she doesn’t need to know much else.

This is about your paranoid and delusional uncle who had to take time off school to go to a mental hospital but he never really got better because mental hospitals are underfunded and oftentimes corrupt and he fell down a rabbit hole where he got redpilled so hard he doesn’t know which way is up and the maga cult has convinced him that he’s “more fun at parties when he doesn’t take those liberal pills.” He needs help, genuine professional help, but he’s stuck in a position where the only possible opportunity he has is to get worse.

This is about your mom, who does know it’s wrong, who is put on edge by trumps chauvinism and doesn’t really thing anything is wrong with a book about gay penguins, but the ever growing array of bruises on her arms, the black eyes and broken noses that she hides with sunglasses, the words “you shall not tell a lie” and “you must obey your husband” has her terrified that Susie May at the local polling station will be a Nosy Nancy and word will get back to your dad.

I’m not saying we should coddle people and absolve them of their crime, far from it.

But, in the words of Kamala herself, we exist in the context of what came before us.

It is absolutely ridiculous to pretend that Trumpism isn’t a failing of society as a whole.

People slipped through the cracks, communities have let the mentally unwell go without help, not having different options for education (we all know public schools have the potential to be fucked up beyond belief but it’s all anyone can afford

We can’t just say “haha you’re stupid!” And pretend like this isn’t a reflection of our society and the way it works. We can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly sad. Or that it wasn’t intentional.

A lot of otherwise good people who are broken, beaten down, uneducated, and or don’t know how to deal with their emotions are following Trump because they are angry and they want their lives to change. They’re quite literally in a cult. They’re scared, paranoid, they’ve been lied to and controlled and manipulated. Many, many maga cult members are well and truly brainwashed and genuinely wouldn’t be making the decisions they’re making if they received the help and care they need.

Yes they’re are absolutely still the “leopards eating my face” club.

No I’m not saying that they should be allowed to get away with the shit they get away with, they’re doing horrible things and voting for horrible people who do horrible things.

But we have got to be more aware and more vocal about the fact that they’re in a dangerous and deeply harmful cult.

The first step to leaving a cult is understanding that you’re directly being hurt by said cult.

Most people who are trapped in cults don’t even realise they’re in a cult.

If we were able to raise enough money for your granddad to retire happily from his predatory 5 days a week 12 hour shifts at Walmart where he gets screamed at all day, little to no break, and isn’t allowed to sit down, he’d probably be way less likely to vote for Trump.

If your mom was able to get out of the harmful and abusive environment she’s grown up with and have breathing room, without being monitored 24/7, she probably wouldn’t vote for Trump.

The good ole southern boy just turned 18 who’s been in the closet ever since his daddy beat him for wearing his mom’s lipstick when he was 5 probably wouldn’t vote for Trump if he had the means of getting away from his parents but his dad’s the football coach and the history teacher and their underfunded home town public school had Trump merch hanging up in every other classroom, and the homework assignment come November is to tell everyone who you voted for and why.

My point is just that when Trump finally dies there will be a lot of people who will suddenly and without warning just… return to normal. It will literally be very weird for anyone with Trump supporting loved ones.

I’ve sat down and talked to my mom at length about why she wants to vote for Trump, when he’s so much like all the men in her life who’ve done nothing but abuse her.

She flat out said that he’s like her dad, and she said that her dad would have voted for him despite being a democrat.

Her dad physically, emotionally and sexually abused her, her older sister, her younger brothers as well as her mom, starting when she was as young as 3 and continuing for 5 years or more.

She wants her dad (who was abusive and has been dead for years) to be proud of her. To love her like he was meant to.

It’s genuinely a sickness.

I’m not saying that you have to play nicely with Trump supporters or anything.

Like, fuck that, go curb stomp nazis, call them weird and make fun of them if they’re being assholes to you or other people. It works.

But if you’ve ever met someone who’s an absolute sweetheart and wondered why or how seemingly nice people could be persuaded by the worst of the worst?

It’s because it’s a cult. Cults prey on uneducated people and that is not an own, that is a condemnation of society.

We owe it to our children, our friends, our families, our neighbours, to make sure that going forward people are far less desperate.

Check in on your loved ones, try to get the elderly or the mentally unwell people in your life out of the house and doing hobbies other than watching Fox News. Be a friend to the lost looking teens who have nowhere to go and nothing to do but be yelled at by their parents.

#us politics #republicans are generally awful but nobody starts out awful #and everyone has the chance to change how awful they are #in the words of Merlin Tuttle; Win Friends Not Battles #I’m not saying go up to some gun toting swastika wearing jerk and be super nice #I’m saying call your mom and talk about something other than politics #when your grandma says something homophobic invite her to Pride #it may not work and this isn’t really a job for teens still living with their family tbh #but for those of us who don’t rely on our family members anymore #we can try to help them get out there and remind them that there’s life beyond the redpilled bs they’ve been fed #remember a lot of maga became shut ins in 2020 and they devolved into conspiracy theorists #getting them outside and around people can genuinely be so beneficial

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

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Helping Billy and Stu on their murder spree would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This might not be exactly what you were expecting but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Sorry it took me longer than expected!)

- Wrong. That was the best way to describe your relationship with Billy and Stu: wrong, fucked up, and dangerous …but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was exciting.

- You were no saint. That was a fact you’d come to terms with a while ago. You were no saint but you certainly weren’t a killer; at least not when all of this started. No, back then, you were just a really, really bad girlfriend.

- Truth be told: you weren’t single when you’d gotten involved with the boys, though, to be fair, neither were they; not that that made things any better.

- You’d had a boyfriend, a boyfriend you’d once really cared about, but somewhere along the line, you’d begun to have problems and instead of resolving them, you’d both chosen to ignore them and resent each other instead. Which is probably why it was so easy for you to fall into another boys arms; especially when they were as charming as Billy was or as sweet as Stu was.

- You’d always had a bit of a crush on Billy. The two of you’d been acquaintances ever since freshman year and for a while you sort of thought that you and him might get together. But then he started dating Sidney and you got asked out by your boyfriend and you just sort of tried to put the idea out of your head.

- Unbeknownst to you, the idea never left Billy’s head and he found himself plotting all the ways that he could make you his; all while finding out that his partner in crime was seemingly just as interested in you as he was.

- Stu ended up playing a crucial role in your “arrangement”. The two of you found yourselves made into lab partners and thusly, you were invited over to his place after school and later given the perfect excuse to spend time with him; and/or Billy, without causing suspicion.

- The first few times you go over to the Macher place, nothing of value happens. You do exactly what you’re supposed to: work, study, joke around a little and get a bit more comfortable being in each other’s presences. It’s a few study sessions in that you get a curveball thrown at you.

- It’s late one evening, Stu’s parents are out and you’re both studying on his living room floor when all of a sudden the doorbell rings. Stu gets up to answer it and who else would it be but Billy.

- Stu pretends to act surprised and tells the boy that he forgot they were going to hang out and that he’s studying with you. Billy assures him that it’s alright before Stu tells him to wait a second and reappears in the room, saying that he thinks the two of you have studied enough and that Billy’s got some horror movies that the three of you can watch if you’d like to stay and chill. How could you possibly refuse?

- And so, your makeshift friendship with the boys begin; a friendship which very quickly leads into something more once Billy decides the time is right to make a move.

- You obviously don’t expect it the first time it happens but you find yourself wanting more the minute it’s over.

- Sure, sometimes the guilt will kick in when you see Tatum and Sidney or when your boyfriend is being particularly sweet, but it never seems to be enough to stop you from coming over whenever they ask or letting them in whenever they knock on your door.

- But the longer the three of you keep up your affair, the more things you start to notice.

- Billy isn’t stupid. Regardless of how he feels about you, he isn’t going to jeopardize his whole plan by making one wrong move and trusting someone he shouldn’t have. He’ll take his time analyzing you, picking apart your every move and reaction until he’s sure that you’re the one.

- You’ll start to pick up on little things about your boys that some might consider weird: all the horror movies and Billy’s knowledge in them, strange questions, indecipherable looks, things like that.

- As Billy comes closer to making up his mind, more of the mask will slip; though not enough to scare you off or make you think that anything’s really wrong. More odd inquiries, questionable sexual activities, and Billy testing your loyalty; oftentimes by asking you to cover for him or Stu to see how far you’ll go for them.

- You might be asking what I mean by “questionable sexual activities”, well, Billy has, on more than one occasion, demanded that you only watch whatever gory film he’s put on instead of looking at him as he pleasures you. He watches you closely, muttering lowly in your ear about the movie and talking dirty as you lock your eyes on the screen.

- When the boys first confess to you about the murders, you don’t believe them. You think it’s a bad joke but once you see just how serious they are, your smile drops and you say “you’re serious aren’t you?”.

- It definitely takes you a while to get used to the fact, but you find yourself opening up to the idea more and more as Billy explains their motive and butters you up with his charming words.

- Your involvement starts with little things: patching them up when they’re hurt, analyzing horror movies, giving them ideas or intel and telling them what won’t work.

- Stu likes to bump your shoulder or ruffle your hair and call you smart whenever you offer up good advice. Billy is much more subtle in his praise but his reactions are usually the ones that make you want to help them more and more.

- The blonde enthusiastically recounts stories of their slayings to you, jumping around the room and making a bunch of noises and hand movements while he does so.

- The first time you mention that you’d like to help them “...more”, both their faces break out into shit eating grins. They don’t immediately hand you a mask, knife, and mission but they do start to ask more of you.

- Helping them hide evidence, giving them alibis, waiting outside of their crime scenes for them and helping them lure people right into their traps all becomes second nature to you.

- Then comes your initiation.

- There’d always been some jealousy involved in your relationship; mainly on their parts. You had a boyfriend and they had girlfriends which meant all three of you had to; at some point, act all lovey dovey with your partners in front of the others, if only to keep up a façade.

- But, as obvious as it was that none of you particularly cared for your significant others, that didn’t stop Billy or Stu from absolutely hating your boyfriends guts. This hatred would eventually play a key role in solidifying your role in their lives.

- Your parents aren’t home and you’re in your bedroom with the boys, doing exactly what one would assume you’d be doing, except, unlike all the other times you’d done “this”, your bedroom door swung open and revealed a very unexpected visitor: your boyfriend.

- Maybe it was the pent up jealousy or the fear of his plan potentially being ruined or maybe it was a little bit of both but when the boy immediately began to just book it towards your front door, Billy followed after him.

- By the time you make it out into the hall, Stu has him held in place and Billy is turning to look at you, telling you to “come on” as they walk the boy into your kitchen.

- Once you get there, Billy pulls a knife from the block and walks up to you, telling you that you said you wanted to be a part of things and that now's your chance.

“Go on.” He says, nodding his head back towards the boy who Stu’s restraining and watching you closely as you slowly take the knife from his hands. Stu’s grinning excitedly as you approach him, cheering you on while Billy remains silent behind you.

- The blonde whoops and hollers as you cut into the boy, audibly expressing his pride in you, and when you turn to look back at Billy, he’s got a tiny little smile pulling at his lips, showing that you’ve just proven yourself and done exactly what he wanted.

- The brunette locks eyes with you before he walks up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest and tilting your head down to look at the boy who’s currently bleeding out on your kitchen floor. “Would you look at that.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says it, his hand trailing up to grope at your chest as he stares down at the gory sight before you.

- There’s no going back after that. You’re now officially one of them and get your very own father death costume.

- It’s perfect really. More hands, more confusion for the police, more bloody sex.

- Billy gets turned on by the sight of blood and the adrenaline that he feels after a kill; and Stu has never been one to turn down sex, so don’t be surprised if you end up pressed against the floorboards of a victims house or thrown on one of their beds the minute the three of you get back to their house.

- You and Billy tend to make the plans while Stu just goes along with whatever you say.

- Helping them get Neil Prescott.

- Going along with Stu while Billy talks on the phone.

- The two of them both baby and yell at you. They tend to do most of the dirty work because they think you can’t handle it but at the same time they; namely Billy, will get angry if you mess anything up in the slightest. The brunette will yell or insult you because he’s a control freak and wants everything to go exactly as he planned.

- On the drive/walk home, you’ll stay quiet, wondering if maybe you’ve made a very severe mistake when deciding to be with the boys. But then Billy will grab your arm and pull you into a kiss, asking if you’re alright and apologizing so sweetly and for better or for worse, you’ll fall right back in again.

#stu macher imagine #stu macher headcanon #stu macher headcanons #poly billy and stu #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis headcanons #scream imagine #scream imagines #scream headcanons #scream headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanon #Slasher headcanon #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines

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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin @crescent-iak @ncttboo @byunbaekby @jinfizz @doyoungyoung @ahgayeah0305 @doyobun @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr @m1ss-foodi3

← previous chapter || next chapter →

If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

#doyoung smut #doyoung fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #doyoung x reader #gyukultfics #doyoung #kim doyoung

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misterbitches · 4 years ago

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what i like abt muren and li chen

i’m sorta burned out and my vagina is bleeding so lemme see if i can type this. probably can lmao. my brain is going ten miles a minute.

1. the fact that they were friends first.

someone on here said this and idk who but i don’t want to seem like it was my idea.

the fact that they are friends and didn’t have like a connection previously and it developed. most times friends-to-lovers has a basis of some sort of romantic interest from another person so they were not truly ever friends, you know? and many relationships people aren’t friends first but that’s the best kind. and they are the truest form in that (i wouldnt say truest means good but just i think a representation of) they were truly friends, no attraction at least consciously, and were lead into it.

2. bc they know each other well and are friends they know each other and LAUGH and if you can’t laugh with your love then there is no point. 0. lmao. i love it

idk they fell easily in2 the luvy duvy part and u can actually believe they are into each other like outside of kissing. gee. also hello! when lichen like threw the heart in the office and muren caught it? bitch! i woulda been like ew!!!!! and blushed but muren was like that’s right that’s my bitch

3. bouncing off 2 um uhhhhh the way they interact so i guess this is 2 but whatver i like lists now

muren is >:O but super sweet and receptive to others. so he responds to people and it isn’t just stoic for stoic sake or with not much substance. idk how to say this but oftentimes sometimes i feel like characters will be too oppositional to offset their partner and it can be extremely annoying to watch because it’s part of the dynamic but sometimes there’s a lack of reciprocation. i like that even if muren is quiet he smiles a lot and lets people know through his actions and shit. esp his mans. and when he needs to talk, he will.

lichen is perfect for this because of reasons. what do you even say about this dude holy shit. first of all he really is a fucking himbo. he’s not even dumb he’s just a fucking himbo. it’s great to say the way they express their excitement and the best thing to hear, “i can be myself around you”

4. u cannnot tell me that this top/bottom discourse is actually not ridiculous esp for them bc there is no way that my eyes are seeing what i see yet there’s some struggle when they’re trying to constantly grapple with the masculine/feminine aspects (this is a good thing)

with the way that they hang off each other. esp bc lichen is shorter than him and stockier and he can attach himself like a barnacle. the way he expresses glee and love is very “feminine” at times IE reliance, support, putting your head on his etc but then there are times when he is the one to hold muren too. so it’s like they are clearly on the same level in how they exchange love and stuff and exploring the dynamics but it clearly isnt as structured as the usual ones and it shouldnt be so they should just stop talking about this shit cos ur both getting fucked god shut up

lichen squeals like a girl and is obsessed with him. he is clingy and also says “what do you want to do to me.” if this show is gonna sit us through the agony of this stupid discourse and they tell me they arent gonna sw*tch or whatever (not that they cant have other forms of sex bc that is not that difficultand as adults w eknow this but anywaaay) then they simply are wrong

5. the ~gay 4 u~ thing is dumb and i cannot believe it tbqh cos it’s like sir....but i am glad that lichen like expresses attraction to his physique and personhood as a man and acknowledging that that is something and a part of the attraction.

it was probably a happy accident but it’s still a good one. there’s sometimes an idea of like sexual attraction being sorta nebulous when someone is like getting into a rship with the same gender but not being sure about their sexuality or whatever or still liking another gender explicitly where they cant admit they find things attractive or enticing even when they are in a same sex relationship and it is so fucking confusing and doesn’t make sense. i wish instead of trying to make it cut and dry they just went honestly mabye they dont know but theyre both men and thats a factor. ok lets move on now. :)

6. they make u feel nice

especially in comparison to the show being messy and also there’s some crazy stalker man running around you know they temper that

they’re just really fun to watch. it’s an interesting dynamic and particularly with xing si in their lives it’s nice and i’m so glad there’s no one else to ruin it like say a brother who is a waste of space. but it’s mostly good feelings for them and you can see why they like each other, that they can stay together, and how helpful a relationship can be as you grow as an individual

7. while i am sure there will be further misunderstandings...comm...unic...ation?

literally boys are dumb as hell but idk if my reading is correct on this one but SO FAR TO MOI im like wow u guys like actually talk. woah. and i think that’s nice. yest i had a breakdown in front of my fam bc i am sometimes emotionally stunted when faced with distress so it’s nice to see people talking that out in particularly with like jealousy and stuff

AND their interactions in public and the understanding. knowing it takes time and stuff for them to adjust and allowing them the time. they are extremely different to other people and they want to be distinct and they can be and arre to each other they dont need to follow anyone else’s rules (except the costume department sometimes needs to get better pants for muren like that’s my rule tbh but that’s neither here nor there)

did some1 call them emotional support himbos? i think so cos word.

oh one more thing idk the name of the actor playing li chen and im too tired to look it up but i like him a lot i think he does a good job of going seamlessly between like a jubilant person and an actual human being. he plays well at being oblivious but not outright stupid and emotionally stunted or not picking up certain signals. i think at times it seems like he doesn’t always have a sense of self like trying to be something else for other people but then he realizes like he can’t do that so all he can do is be himself which leads him 2 his mans but yea. the actor does a decent job! it’s a fun character to wathc

#history 4 #history 4: close to you #muren x lichen

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jonjordanforrealz · 3 years ago

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12 Years Is a Long Time

September 29th is my son Arron’s 11th birthday – a cause for celebrating for sure, and a time for this parent, as most parents do, to ponder aloud, “How in the hell did that go so fast?” For me, sentimental sap that I am, birthdays are always a time for reflection too.

In doing so this morning, I was, of course, reminded that September 29th is also the anniversary of my brother Michael’s passing. A year to the day before Arron came into this world, Mikey left it. 12 years ago today. That’s gone a different kind of so fast itself.

I’ve talked about my brother’s death many times over the years and it never bothers me to do so. Most of the time, it makes me happy just to talk about him at all. To be remembered is to be loved and he certainly is in both instances. But I don’t think I’ve ever really shared much publicly about his last day.

And I need to let it go.

Who knows? Maybe something like this can help somebody.

For 12 years, I’ve carried the weight of that day and never really faced it or dealt with it. And I’m tired. It’s heavy and I’m tired. And to fulfill my final promise to Mikey, actually, I need to get rid of it, once and for all.

Following a lifetime of major medical issues and severe mental and physical handicaps, and doing all he could over the course of his 25 years to beat the odds and somehow conquer and survive one and all, Michael would meet his match in the form of an internal bleeding issue that just couldn’t be solved.

A kid like Mikey, who couldn’t really communicate outside of very basic emotions, had no way of conveying to doctors what anything felt like, where it hurt, how long something had been bothering him, and so on and so forth. So oftentimes, things got worse, sometimes as bad as they possibly could get, before anyone could even get anywhere close to figuring out what the hell was going on. And in his final chapter, this reality first led to him being transported to be treated by specialists in Tampa, and then ultimately, to our family’s greatest test. That we were so conveniently able to face that final decision together thanks to his relocation to my neck of the woods was a stroke of luck that I don’t think anyone appreciated until years later.

Michael’s bleeding issue just wasn’t going away no matter what the doctors tried. Not to cheapen the matter, but I think someone likened it to plugging a hole in a hose with your finger, only to have another open shortly thereafter. At some point, you run out of fingers. And so, we were faced with two choices: An exploratory and very invasive surgery that guaranteed nothing or a nonsurgical Hail Mary that was every bit the final hope. My parents encouraged me to speak freely and honestly in that days-long conversation and as I recall, my opinion never wavered, though of course, I respected and understood their agonizing back-and-forth.

To me, this kid had already been through so much, literally since Day 1. Countless major surgeries and painful procedures that would absolutely hammer (and maybe finish) most “regular” people were the worst of the lot. Other concessions over time – simple things like eating and drinking normally – also took a toll, I’m sure, as every human needs simple joys.

Throughout his last ordeal, there had already been several procedures, and in my eyes, he didn’t need more of that. With the proposed surgery highly likely to kill him anyway, I didn’t see the justification to put him through that sort of torture again. I didn’t want that to be his way to go out. As his closest advocate, because “brothers” means something more that those who don’t have can know, I knew he didn’t want that to be his way to go out either.

Instead, I argued, that through the non-invasive course of treatment, while the odds of that working were stacked heavily against him, this put the ball in his court. This made it so that he could fight, if he wanted to. For a kid who rarely had the chance to call his shot at any time in his life, this was that. “Scrap if you want to, kid,” I thought. “If anyone can beat the odds one more time, it’s you.” And if not, I thought he had that right too. And I wanted to fight for that. This time, I wanted to fight for his right to fight. Or not.

And so, with my parents on board, we gave him his shot, and at first, true to form, the kid was responding positively. Amazed yet unsurprised, we carried on with some hope for the first time in seemingly forever … and then everything just tanked. Quickly.

I’d prepared for this my whole life. And I had thought I had been stepping into this moment already time and time before. But I wasn’t nervous. I felt a sense of urgency, after getting the call, because I wanted to be with him but I wasn’t nervous or scared. Something that always comforted me was a belief that if anyone ever deserved a peaceful end, it would be Mikey. Once we were faced with the grave news, the doctor assured that as they stopped doing whatever they had been doing to treat him, and focused on making him comfortable, that he would indeed get that peaceful transition. And I know in the medical world that nothing is ever guaranteed but I really believed it. I believed in that. It’s all I wanted, then, knowing that there was no winning this last fight.

But it didn’t go down like that. His last day wasn’t, at first, peaceful at all. It was prolonged. And there were gasps and groans. At one point, a seizure. And I was mad. I was so mad.

At the same time, I knew what it was, really. This kid’s will to fight just doesn’t go away. It’s funny because from the very beginning, one of the things he was diagnosed with was some syndrome called Failure to Thrive. Fuck that.

When the worst moments hit, and I watched my brother and my family suffering, I didn’t feel mad anymore. I just felt like I had to do something.

There’s a picture that I have of my brother and I in bed. I was maybe 10 and he, six. We shared a room at that time and when my mom or dad would come in to get us up, if I was being a bum and still laying there and we had somewhere to be, they’d plop Mikey right in my bed next to me. That always got me up. Nothing like an eye poke or swift kick from the kid who “couldn’t control his movements” to start your day – accompanied, of course, by his trademark giggle.

That little shit … It’s still my favorite picture in the world.

In those final moments, I just crawled as far into his hospital bed as I could to lay next to him, just like we did on those mornings as kids, and I whispered to him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’re going to be okay.”

You see, I’d often wondered, when I was very young, why he pulled through so many things that most people wouldn’t. After all, I’d always noticed people bitching and moaning about the stupidest things (oh, contemporary America!), wandering around aimlessly in perpetual woe-is-me mode. If anyone should have ever just said, “Screw this!” and checked out, Michael should have. But he had us. And we, him. He pretty much defined us, really, for better or worse. I felt like there was at least a little something in him that told him he needed to stick around for us. And I just wanted him to know that we would be okay if he couldn’t anymore.

Within minutes, things calmed down. His breathing slowed. The stupid machines making noise start doing so more sporadically. And then, before we knew it, it was over. That was it. The end.

I remember lots of hugs and tears and one of many goodbyes to come. And then we said thank you to some staff members – really a symbolic thank you, from me at least, to so many over the years. To people in the medical field, I look at you as I do teachers, and that is in the highest regard, having intimately known both worlds, whether I wanted to or not.

I remember going outside and nobody saying very much.

I remember sitting down at a table.

And then I remember saying, “Well, what do we do now?” I don’t think I ever quite figured out what to do. A purpose I’d always had was now gone.

Of course, in the coming days and weeks, we had plenty to do – plenty of the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching things you have to do to prepare for a loved one’s final arrangements and all that. I took on a lot more of the sort than I ever had at that time because I felt like my parents shouldn’t have to, so I was distracted by productivity. But soon after that, I don’t remember anything. Don’t remember his funeral. Don’t remember leaving my parents and coming back home. Don’t remember going back to work. Sports, friends, events … nothing.

Truly, I think I completely lost a year. I don’t remember a lot at all about the time in between Mikey’s death and Arron’s birth. And then the latter happened and it was like the pause button I’d pushed on life had been pushed again, whether I was ready or not.

And while I was obviously happy to be a dad for the second time, I was also still hurting, which I must have forgotten about too in that year prior. And again, I was mad. I was so mad.

In the years since, that anger lingered, because if you don’t hit something head-on, it doesn’t just go away. Anger leads to hurt, fear, panic, anxiety, a defensive existence, and isolation. I’ve experienced it all and I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy. I’ve distanced myself, I’ve been checked out and I’ve lashed out, retreated within and pushed people away. It has caused me problems in every element of my life at one time (or more) or another.

None of it is any excuse and it’s a lot for which to apologize over a long period of time but if my suffering has ever caused any sort of suffering for anyone reading this, I am sorry.

(Note: I’m still going to enjoy my space and my distance more than most people but, overall, I can be better!)

I feel like some of this might be a surprise to people because I don’t show it, hardly ever. I’ve gotten good at projecting this version of myself at any time, regardless of what’s really going on. I even manage to have and to be a good time, probably a bit too often influenced by some additives I’ve grown fond of over the years. But there are times when all of that is just masking a wreck. And it has to stop.

I don’t know why I’m shedding this now other than that I need to – because it can’t go on forever. I haven’t come close to being the best version of myself and I have people around me who deserve nothing less than that. What better time than now if I’m finally recognizing that, at times, I haven’t been good? And at my worst, I haven’t even been okay.

And the bottom line is that I promised my little brother, as he left us 12 years ago, that I would be.

I’ll never let go of him. He’s on my arm and in my heart and I hear his voice – especially that laugh! – every single day.

But I’m letting go of that day.

12 years is a long time.

It’s been heavy.

And I’m tired.

And I have to be okay.

#bros #family #michaeljordan

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 5 years ago

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Let Me {Katsuki Bakugo}

Quirks were just like any other physical ability in that overuse lead to strain. Training was always the preferred method of avoiding that strain, extending the limit to which pain or side effects would begin, but support items were also a viable option for the modern pro hero. Oftentimes, support items were used in conjunction with training so that if the item were to be lost or damaged during combat, a hero would still be able to perform their duties.

Katsuki Bakugo had spent years training his body to push past its natural limits for his quirk, and his mind to withstand the pain of overdoing it. He wasn’t stupid, though, he knew that adding in the bracers for his hero costume were an excellent idea to help him fire off explosions larger than what he could handle on his own. It worked well for him, and he had put a lot of villains behind bars thanks to the combination of skill and enhancement.

Even when the bracers were destroyed, disintegrating right off of his wrists and forearms, he got the job done. Ground Zero was a pro who did not take kindly to losing.

Which is exactly why his wrapped arms and shoulders were throbbing painfully as he stood on the platform of the train station near his agency, the late afternoon sun at his back. His messenger bag felt like lead as it dug into the muscle of his right shoulder. Every so often, his fingers would twitch from the strain throughout his arms.

He stepped on to the local train to head home, his mind only fixated on resting for the rest of the night and for the weekend upcoming. As he sat down, he let out a soft sigh of relief at the fact that the train car was essentially empty, allowing him to let his bag rest on the seat next to him. He legitimately didn’t think that he could manage moving it onto his lap.

Eyes half-lidded, he watched the LED screen scroll through the stops until his own displayed. With a deep breath to ready himself for the weight of his bag once again, he stood to exit the train.

“Shit,” he mumbled tiredly. He continued out of the station and trekked the final three blocks home, grateful that only his arms were out of commission; he could at least make it home without them.

That thought was immediately rescinded when he came to his apartment building and realized that he needed to scan his keycard to enter the lobby. His keycard that was in his wallet, which was somewhere in his messenger bag.

He glanced down to his bag, defeat overtaking his features as he stiffly moved his arm to dig around the main compartment. He fumbled through the contents, his muscles awkwardly uncooperative as he bumped against his empty bento box and the tangled headphones he could’ve sworn were neatly put away after his morning commute. Once his fingers felt the smooth leather of his wallet, he plucked it from the depths of the bag, slowly tapping it against the reader to enter the building.

Pushing the door open with his hip, he sped to the elevator and jammed his finger into the buttons hard, his arms tingling uncomfortably. The numbers ticked higher until settling on 17, a quiet ping sounding out when the doors parted. Stepping out onto the blue carpeted hallway, he moved towards the apartment marked 1701 at the opposite end of the hall.

The sight of his girlfriend lounging on the couch greeted him once he opened the door and between that and the knowledge that he could finally rest, he felt his aching shoulders sag in relief as he dropped his bag to the ground by his kicked off shoes.

“Welcome home,” she greeted quietly, sitting up to make room for him next to her. “I have the heating pads ready for you if you want those first, but I can grab some ice packs if you prefer. Oh, and your compression sleeves are clean and sitting on the night table.”

He stared at her, not registering her words at first, but when she stood up and crossed over to him, her soft hands cupping his face, he snapped back to the moment.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” she said, pecking him on the lips. “All thirty-five hostages rescued and not a single casualty other than the bank building about to undergo renovations anyway.”

Bakugo’s brows furrowed. “I don’t need a reward for doing my job.”

“Katsuki, I’m not rewarding you for doing your job, I’m giving you what you need to feel better since you overused your quirk. My plugging in two heating pads and pulling your compression sleeves out of your drawer was to save you five or ten minutes of dealing with your pain. Forgive me if I’m not interested in seeing my boyfriend suffer any longer than he has to,” she said coolly, lips pouting slightly.

He sighed. “That’s—I’m not trying to be an asshole. The last few hours have been hell, but I really do appreciate you helping me. Thank you.”

That allowed the pout to reform into a smile.

“You really have to learn to let me take care of you. You’d think after three and a half years together you’d get it through your head,” she teased, tapping two fingers against his forehead, secretly tickled that he couldn’t swat her hand away. “Now, heat is usually what you prefer first, so do you want me to grab those heating pads to put on your shoulders after we unwrap your arms and put the sleeves on?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled in agreement, watching as she disappeared into their bedroom. He crossed over to the couch, the plush cushions encouraging his body to relax as he sat down.

She reappeared with his compression sleeves in her hands and plopped onto the couch next to him, setting one sleeve to the side as she reached for his arm closest to her.

“You need to fire whoever wrapped your arms for starting at your wrist and going up. It’s usually easiest clipping the end at your wrist so your shoulders aren’t limited in their mobility,” she explained, gently pulling his arm out towards her and letting his hand rest on her thigh as she set about unwinding the fabric from his arm. As she worked, she could feel the tightness of his tendons and the heat of overuse, his muscles twitching every so often beneath his skin.

Once he was finally free of the bandages, she slid the compression sleeve up his arm and adjusted it to the proper position before standing and moving to his other side to repeat the process on the opposite arm.

“Shoulda been a nurse,” Bakugo mumbled as the second sleeve was put in place.

“Nah,” she disagreed. “You know I’m not good with blood. Plus if I were a nurse, who knows if Ochaco and Izuku’s wedding would’ve actually happened, honestly.”

“Got that shit right,” he said. “I still don’t know how you got green and pink to look nice together.”

She waved a hand flippantly as she got off the couch. “The right shade of mint and the right shade of blush aren’t that hard to come by; any good wedding planner knows that. It just takes some time. I’m gonna grab the heating pads for you.”

He watched her leave the room once again, gingerly bending his arms now that the compression sleeves were securely in place. They still felt heavy as he moved them around to try and work out some of the soreness, and he grimaced at the pull of his tender muscles.

“Now that pink on your cheeks would make a good color for my clients,” she mused from his left, startling him. “Maybe we should save the stretches for after dinner, yeah? Rest up with the heat on your shoulders and I’ll get cooking.”

“You don’t have to cook,” he said, reaching for the heating pads. “We can just get takeout from the ramen place on the next block.”

She held the heating pads out of his reach. “Nope, I’m making stir fry while you rest your arms. Now pick a comfortable position and let me take care of you, asshole.”

“You sure you’re quirkless?” he grumbled as he settled down into the couch cushions and she arranged the pads on his shoulders, the heat making him relax slightly. “They had to have missed your stubborn ass attitude when they diagnosed you.”

“The extra joints in my toes don’t lie; your girl’s quirkless,” she chuckled, kicking her foot up and turning to the side, wiggling her toes within her sock.

He grunted, allowing his head to tip backwards to rest on the back of the couch.

“Rest up,” she murmured, running her hand through his hair. “I’ll take the heating pads off in about ten minutes and get you when the food is done. If you wanna fall asleep, I’ll wake you for stir fry.”

An overwhelming part of him hated being told what to do to feel better, like he was some little kid who needed his parent to watch over him so he didn’t hurt himself even more. But he paid attention instead to the smaller voice within his mind that told him to listen to her, to let her take care of him. It wasn’t that she thought he was weak, he reasoned, but just as she’d said when he had snapped when he came home, she wanted to help him feel better because she cared about him.

Sighing as her hand fell away from his hair, he blinked up at her. “You gonna make it spicy?”

“I’ve got everything to make the Szechuan style we saw on that cooking show. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, closing his eyes and allowing the heat of the pads to soothe the ache in his shoulders.

He heard her soft footsteps retreat into the kitchen, and then the quiet bangs of cabinets opening and closing. The background noise lulled him to sleep before long, the comfort of being home and knowing his girlfriend was nearby making it that much easier to relax.

The next thing he knew, the heated weight of the pads had disappeared from his shoulders and the spicy scent of dinner was hanging thick in the apartment. Blinking open his eyes, the first thing he saw was a familiar, warm smile.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said happily. “I hope you enjoyed your cat nap.”

He hummed, sitting up straight and assessing his arms’ condition. Stretching didn’t hurt as much but it still wasn’t pleasant; at least eating wouldn’t be painful.

Rising to his feet, he followed her to the chabudai that was already set with a bowl of stir fry and chopsticks for each of them.

Bakugo had never been overly impressed with mealtime gatherings that seemed to only be had to make small talk and have the “how was your day, honey?” questions he’d been a reluctant party to when he was growing up, but when it was just the two of them alone in the apartment, he liked it. It was enjoyable to recount his day’s events and watch her reactions to the gritty details of his job that he admittedly only threw in to get a rise out of her, and even better when she’d stroke his ego with praise. Listening to her tell of her days planning the arrangements of who knew how many weddings was something he looked forward to hearing, too. With as many roles as he played and tasks he had to complete at the agency, there were moments where he was in awe at everything she managed to accomplish for the people who hired her.

Quirkless as could be, she was one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the country because of her involvement in executing both the Shinto and Christian ceremonies of Deku and Uravity. With the endorsements of two new, rising heroes on her resume, she had attracted a lot of attention of other pros who were willing to pay a handsome amount for her services. Bakugo’s attention was also caught during the planning phase and the actual ceremonies, but not for her wedding planning services.

Three and a half years later, he was grateful that the damn nerd had brought her into his life, but he would be absolutely damned if he’d ever admit it out loud.

Even as she waved off his loud insistences of helping clean up their dishes, he was grateful.

“For heaven’s sake, Katsuki, it’ll take me like five minutes to get the leftovers cleared away and our bowls washed!” she sighed. “Go wait for me on the couch, I’ll be right there. Queue up that movie about the spies we need to watch.”

Grumbling the entire time, he set to work arranging the few throw pillows on their couch into a small pile that he would inevitably end up draped over while she curled against him. He grabbed the fluffy grey blanket that he knew she would want too despite the heat in the apartment and the natural warmth his body produced.

With the remote in hand, he took his place on the couch against the pillows he had set up, the blanket to the far side so that she had room to press against him, which is exactly what she did as she came in from the kitchen. She pulled the blanket around herself as he tucked her under his arm, the blanket over his arm and partially covering his chest. A quiet mumble to begin the movie came from her and he obliged.

The plot, he quickly realized, was predictable and stupid. He should have expected that really since it was Kirishima and Kaminari who had suggested the movie during their last get-together and of all the movies they had suggested to him since their time at UA, he had only ever enjoyed three. So, he checked out of the scenes on the screen and let his mind wander—the day had been long enough that he probably deserved some more time to not do or think of anything important.

His eyes closed as he moved to lay more on the pillows he had gathered earlier, but his face contorted into a grimace as it sent twinges down both of his arms.

Her weight against him disappeared, gingerly guiding his arm from around her shoulders. “Are you alright, Katsuki?”

“Yeah,” he gritted out, the dull throb that had appeared distracting. “Kept them in one position for too long. They locked up on me.”

“You want me to grab ice this time or should we go with heat again?” she asked. “I can try massaging your arms if you think that’ll help?”

He shook his head. “No, its fine, just… keep watching the movie.”

“This movie sucks, the guys were full of shit when they said we’d like it, so let me help you instead.”

“You don’t—”

“If you’re about to tell me that I don’t need to take care of you or do something that’s going to help you, I will fucking scream,” she warned, cutting him off. “Can you just let me do what I can to take care of you? I don’t like seeing you in pain and if there’s something I can do to help alleviate it, I’m going to do it!”

He took a heavy breath before speaking. “I swear that I’m not trying to piss you off, I just… you know I’m shitty at asking for help or whatever. And I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

She sighed, lifting a hand to thread through the hair at the base of his neck. He was a complicated bastard on the best days, but he was her complicated bastard and she couldn’t ever imagine a time when she wouldn’t want to make their relationship work.

“I know that you’re able to take care of yourself, Katsuki,” she said softly. “You’re great at taking care of me and I appreciate it more than you know, but sometimes I can help you too. Relationships are a two-way street; we take care of each other, you know?”

He felt her tug on his hair lightly, small zings of pressure a better feeling than the pain he’d been experiencing so far that night.

“Maybe a massage would help,” he relented, voice quiet.

She smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Let’s leave the tidying up for the morning and head into the bedroom where you can sprawl out more.”

Bakugo hummed, once again ignoring the large part of him that was uncomfortable with being tended to, and stood up, stretching his back before heading into their bedroom. He fell face first onto the mattress, the once-pristinely made bed flying askew with blankets rumpled under him and the two throw pillows flopping over sadly.

“What a view,” he heard followed by a low, playful whistle.

He turned his head so that she could see his exaggerated eyeroll, a few giggles escaping from her as she moved to climb on the bed with him.

She tossed a leg over his torso and settled into the dip of his lower back, her hands splaying out across his shoulders. The tension was still radiating through him like it had earlier and she was determined to help ease his pain however she could.

“I’m gonna take the compression sleeves off,” she said, hooking her fingers into the band at the top of his left arm. When he gave a quiet hum of consent, she peeled the sleeve down as gently as she could and slipped it off of his wrist. Repeating the process on the other arm, she tossed the sleeves on the bedside table and traced the reddish indents on his skin softly.

After a moment, she returned her hands to his shoulders and started to knead into the muscles there, working up the amount of pressure she used to work out the tightness. His skin still felt warm from the overuse of his quirk, but it was much better than when he had first come home.

She worked methodically to massage down his arms, varying the pressure she used when he would wince or suck in a breath, unable to let himself show the pain and soreness she knew he had to be feeling. Once she reached his wrists, she started at his shoulders and repeated the process again, happy to not have as many signs of discomfort from her boyfriend. The tension beneath his skin was considerably less when she finally pulled her hands away from his wrists for the second time.

“I hope that helped a bit,” she murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of his neck.

He let out a content breath. “Sit up.”

She straightened back up and raised up onto her knees from her sitting position on his back. Bakugo flipped over onto his back beneath her and she settled back down to sit on his thighs while his hands came to land on hers. His arms were still sore with a dull ache, but the soft touch of her massage had helped soothe the pain to something more than manageable.

“That definitely helped,” he told her, looking up at her through the hair that had fallen into his face. “I should be good after getting a decent night’s sleep, but you worked out most of the tightness. Thanks for that. Thanks for everything you did tonight.”

She brushed the hair out of his eyes with a tiny smile. “I told you, I don’t like seeing you in pain. I love you way too much to let you suffer if there’s something I can do to help.”

Bakugo sat up at her words, one hand sliding up to her hip and the other going to the back of her neck as he kissed her. Her hands wrapped loosely around his neck and she kissed him back, feeling him relax even further.

Breaking apart, he let out a happy sigh and rested his forehead against hers with both of their eyes still closed. “I know I probably don’t say it enough, but I love you too.”

“I know you do, even if you don’t say it out loud; you say it when you let me take care of you like you did tonight,” she said quietly, nudging her nose against his. “You’re a man of action, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He smirked, then pressed his lips back to hers. Curling his arm around her waist, he used the placement of his hands to gently maneuver her off of his thighs and down to lie with her back to the mattress, his body covering hers. He braced himself on his forearms and continued kissing her, deepening it with a soft bite to her bottom lip and feeling his skin heat for a different reason when she allowed him into her mouth. It was short lived, though, because his arms started to tremble, and before they could completely give out to make his full weight fall onto her, he rolled off of her and onto the other side of the bed, their kiss breaking far too soon for either of their tastes.

“Damn it!” he snapped, the tremors fainter without needing to hold himself up.

She grasped his hand in hers as they laid side by side. “Katsuki, it’s okay if you need to rest. We can pick right back up with this tomorrow when you’re not as sore.”

“After having a shit day like this and coming home with a piss poor attitude, you did all this shit to make me feel better and I can’t even thank you by taking care of you in bed,” he ground out through gritted teeth. He glared off to his left, not wanting to show his disappointment in himself. “Some man of action I am.”

He felt the bed shift and a hand cup his jaw, slowly moving his head to turn and look at her. Their hands still clasped together between them, he realized that she had moved to lie on her side and face him.

“Have I ever told you how goddamn self-depreciating you are?” she asked with a pout to match the one he had unknowingly adopted in the past minute. “Because it’s definitely one of those things we need to work on.”

She then sat up and once again tossed a leg over him, settling herself down firmly in his lap, causing a low groan to slip past his pout. Eager to hear it again, she smiled and began to slowly grind against him.

His eyes fell closed and his hands landed back on her thighs. “Is this about to be another moment where I’m supposed to let you take care of me?”

“My man is so smart,” she praised, leaning down to kiss him and pick up right back where they had left off moments ago.

He lifted his hips slightly to gain more friction, her slow motions not nearly enough for how worked up he was feeling, and his fingers found the hem of her shirt, pushing it upwards until she had no choice but to break the kiss to toss it aside.

With her bare skin exposed, he ignored the heavy feeling in his arms to run his fingertips across her stomach and up the expanse of her back, popping the clasp of her bra with more precision than he expected from his formerly fumbling digits. He then worked the straps down her arms and threw the fabric aside easily, his kisses moving along her jaw with the intent of finding the best patch of skin to mark as his hands came up to cup her chest, kneading the soft skin.

“Your shirt too,” she gasped out as he scraped his teeth across the side of her neck. Her hands snuck beneath his t-shirt and glided up his torso, the ridges of muscle all too familiar under her fingertips. Within a minute his shirt joined hers on the floor and she pressed their bare chests together as he continued to create a mark on her neck, her small whines filling in the silence of the room.

He pulled back once he was satisfied with the mark he had left, smirking when she let out a soft moan as he moved his hips harder against hers. The quiet, breathy moans she let out were all the encouragement he needed to tuck his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and underwear, tugging them down slightly.

Pushing herself up and off the edge of their bed, she slipped both pieces of clothing down her legs and kicked them off to the side before climbing back onto the bed as Bakugo stared at her, his joggers and underwear also shed in the time she took to stand up and discard hers.

She reclaimed her place in his lap, feeling his excitement against her thigh as she leaned down to mold her body against his, cupping his jaw to reconnect their lips in a hard kiss that only became deeper when his tongue ran across her bottom lip. Her hands threaded through his hair as they continued to kiss, a low whimper escaping her when one of his hands left her hip to press between her legs.

“Katsuki,” she panted, breaking the kiss and burying her head in the crook of his neck as she felt two of his fingers rub her clit with slow but firm strokes. His pace could almost be called lazy, but she knew that he was anything but when it came to their intimate moments, ever generous and attentive.

Her heavy breaths changed to quiet whines as he worked his fingers lower, gently easing both of them past her folds to get her prepared. The noises she let out were perfect to him—even though they had the freedom to be as loud as they wanted in their own home, it just wasn’t how either of them expressed their pleasure. Low murmurs and breathless moans were their language in those moments, only the other able to hear and understand.

“You’re the best part of bad days,” he whispered, rhythmically curling his fingers in search of the one spot he knew would cause her whimpers to become even sweeter. “Coming home to you means I fuckin’ won, no matter how shit the day was.”

The end of his sentence was punctuated by a higher pitched moan when his fingers hit just right.

“Please, I’m ready, Katsuki,” she said quietly, shifting to kiss below his ear as her hips bucked into his hand. “Let me have you.”

Bakugo groaned as he withdrew his hand and she sat up to position herself over him, thankful that they had taken their precautions that made condoms unnecessary. Each time they were together, he felt closer to her, but once they were intimate without any barriers, he had no desire to ever go back and risk the newfound level of closeness discovered when it was only the two of them and their passion.

His hands went to her hips to guide her into place, and she moved to lower herself down onto him, each of their eyes falling closed at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as she took him completely, his already waning self-control growing even thinner, “I… you feel so good.”

She let out a choked laugh, placing her hands on his stomach for stability. “You do too. But I can make it feel even better.”

Lifting her hips almost completely off of him, she paused for only a moment before dropping back down with a gasp. She rolled her hips to start a rhythm as she began to ride him, every few movements lifting up and dropping back down. With the firm grip on her hips and the placement of her hands on his stomach, she kept her balance to make sure her movements remained uninterrupted.

Bakugo began to buck his hips up into hers as she brought herself down onto him, both of them moaning at the new rhythm’s intensity. His right hand left her hip to once again apply pressure to her clit, knowing she needed just a bit more to reach her orgasm.

“Y-you always know what I need,” she said breathily. She was close, and she knew he had to be too.

He smirked, his half-lidded eyes making it that much sexier, and let his fingers make fast figure eights to get her closer to the edge than she already was.

“Cum before me or with me, your choice,” he said lowly, feeling his muscles tense, coiled and ready to reach the high he was desperately chasing.

Her cheeks flushed, she rushed out, “I’m-I’m c-“ but cut herself off with a whimper of his name as she bent forward to press her body against his tightly as her orgasm shook through her, drawing out his release at the sudden tightness around him. After a few moments when the initial sensitivity began to disappear, she pulled off of him and lowered herself onto her side to face him. Immediately, he turned to her and his arms came around her back to pull her close as hers curled around his biceps, his skin prickling slightly at the feel of her nails digging into him and concentrating the dull ache in one area. They were both panting heavily, her body trembling against his. The afterglow was starting to hit them both, and as their breathing came more slowly and evenly, they sank again into slow, deep kisses that were sure to extend the time they could float on their own cloud nine.

Uncurling her now-loosened fingers from his biceps, she ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. He watched her, one hand tracing an easy up and down pattern on her back.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“I love you too,” he returned quietly. “Thank you for always being here to take care of me. I promise that I’ll always be here to do it for you too.”

She smiled. “How do your arms feel?”

“Still sore, but I’ll be alright,” he replied with a shrug.

Hugging him to her, she pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks and his forehead before giving him a lingering kiss on his lips, one he eagerly tried to chase when she finally pulled away to stand up. He grunted in annoyance but couldn’t deny that the image of her in front of him looking very blissed out and sporting a red and soon-to-be purple love bite on her neck was one he would be happy to stare at for the rest of his life.

“I gotta clean up,” she said as she walked into their bathroom.

Bakugo took the moment alone to reflect on his day. He would for sure chalk the work part of his day up as shit, no two ways about it. Any time he overused his quirk was a bad time, but also the paperwork he had to submit to get his spare bracers upgraded so that the same situation didn’t happen again in the future was frustrating and repetitive. Well, that was most paperwork he had to do, but his extremely sour mood didn’t do much to help.

But then he came home. He came home to a beautiful, hardworking, and thoughtful girlfriend that did every goddamn thing in her power to help him and make sure he was okay after overworking his power to the point of pain. She took care of him in quite literally every way possible and fuck, was he just so damn grateful.

Her voice stirred him from his thoughts as she came out of the bathroom and announced, “Your turn!”

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he bent down to scoop up his underwear and sweatpants from earlier to place in the laundry hamper on his way to the bathroom. As he crossed the short distance, he watched her grab his discarded shirt from the floor and set it aside on the bed. Typically she would wear his civilian clothes to sleep in, and he would bet any amount he had in his wallet that those were her intentions.

After cleaning up and brushing his teeth, he shut off the bathroom light and made his way to his drawer to find a pair of shorts to sleep in, easily plucking them out and slipping them on as he threw himself back into their bed. He settled down into his pillow and watched her put her hair into her preferred sleep style, naked still except for a pair of tiny shorts.

“Anything you need me to grab before we turn in for the night?” she asked, turning around to face him as she slipped on the dark shirt he had worn home to sleep in.

Fuck, she looked so good in his clothes and for heaven’s sake, he couldn’t take it any longer.

He raised a single finger from where his hands laid on his stomach. “Just one thing. Can you go into the closet and get my UA blazer?”

She leveled him with a curious gaze, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Please?” he added with a pout.

“Now I was told that fantasy was going to be a one and done type of deal,” she teased, walking towards their shared closet to retrieve the blazer.

She easily found it, slightly dusty from being smushed against the wall with the rest of the uniform he hadn’t touched in years. Maneuvering it off of the clothes hanger, she draped it over her arm and turned back to him. When she started to shift it over to him, he stopped her.

“Look in the right-hand pocket.”

Dipping her hand into the pocket, she felt smooth leather at her fingertips as they curled around the object.

“C’mere. You can toss the blazer.”

She kept her palm closed around the black box as best she could as she shakily set the blazer aside. When she turned back to him, he gestured her towards him, and she complied, slowly moving back onto their bed. Gently, he took her free hand and pulled her closer so that she was sitting on his lap once again.

“I’ve had this in that pocket for two months,” he said, tapping the exposed side of the box from where it lay in her hand. “Been trying to think of the best way to go about this because you plan weddings for a living and hear so many engagement stories… I wanted ours to be perfect so that anytime you hear your clients tell theirs you just think ‘yeah, but ours was better.’ Knowing you, though, you wouldn’t want any of that fancy or elaborate shit, you’d just want something us and honestly, what’s more us than stir fry and sex on a Friday night? So, after talking about letting you take care of me and me taking care of you, how about we just take care of each other until we’re old as fuck? Marry me?”

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wastelandcrown · 4 years ago

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logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 3: i am actively trying to throw away my shot but it isn’t fucking working

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a theatre brat to the highest degree (Sorry Roman stans), Remus being Remus, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Talks of anxiety/medication, Throwing up (Not detailed)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please dm me!! This chapter has a lot of anxiety and anxiety talk, so if you’re sensitive to that please be mindful!! Also lots of Logan and Virgil being friends, which I enjoyed writing! I also apologize for the delay, I ended up hating chapters 4-6 after I wrote them and have just rewritten them! Much more to come dw!

Pairings: Eventual Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Eventual One-Sided Logicality, Platonic Analogical, Platonic DRLAMP

Word Count: 2994

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2

By almost all accounts, the next week got easier each day that passed. As Logan got acclimated to the chaos and worked on his notebook, things got much better. Part of this could be attributed to his time spent in the tech booth with Virgil.

Their goal for the week was to pick their audition song and perfect it so that by Friday they could perform and Thomas could quickly and efficiently cast the show. Their performance was in November, which was absolutely way too soon for Logan but Janus had assured him that it was more than enough time to put on an adequate performance. He took Virgil’s lifeline offer surprisingly often. Sitting in the booth and quietly practicing his audition worked out some of the stress in him. Sometimes Virgil would look up from his switch and make a comment on his performance or suggest something is changed, but aside from that, they were quietly comfortable with each other’s presence amongst all of the chaos that was the rest of the theatre.

When he left the booth, he was nearly swarmed by the others. It became routine. In the morning, he would spend time with Virgil, Patton, and their friend Emile. Oftentimes conversation was light, and the commentary was helpful and constructive. At lunch, he and Virgil would move to the tech booth and eat there together to get some peace and quiet in before inevitably being bombarded in the afternoon. After lunch, someone (usually Remus) would make their way up to the tech booth and drag them out to the boy’s dressing room. Virgil would sit in the corner and occasionally mess with one of the twins, or hiss at Janus in greeting, and Logan would be worked to the bone. He had decided to audition with Hamilton’s rap from My Shot; Doing the first and second halves, but cutting out the middle. Janus was extremely dedicated to being sure Logan’s performance would make an impression. Logan wanted the opposite, but he couldn’t argue with Janus’ dedication to making the entire show perfect.

Though, Roman’s attitude didn’t really change that much. For four days, he stayed at a zero. By Friday morning, he actually enjoyed his routine in part. Aside from Roman. Actually, Logan thinks if Roman was completely removed from the situation he may actually be happy with his current predicament. All this has just been practice though. When Friday afternoon rolls around and his audition is getting closer and closer, he tries to focus on the other performers. When it’s Roman’s turn, he pays special attention. Now he sees why Roman has an ego about these things. His audition was very good, and he felt natural on the stage. He would make a wonderful Hamilton, and he really looked the part. Despite him and Remus being technically identical, he looked worlds different. His clothes were ironed perfectly, and he had obviously dressed a bit historically today. His wavy hair was combed to let his face shine through in the stage light, and he was...dear lord, was he wearing eyeliner? Logan shook it from his mind and listened to him sing. Just like the days he’d seen him practice, he was very good. Obviously star material. If he didn’t get Hamilton, Logan would eat a page from his notebook. Figuratively, of course. That would be bad for his digestive system.

On either side of him are Patton and Virgil. He’s not really focusing on auditions until Roman’s, and after he phases back into his overthinking. He’s not nervous, he would never be nervous. Logically, there is no reason for him to be nervous. He’s just being vigilant. That’s it.

Virgil nudges him, “I can practically hear your thinking. You okay?”

“Oh-Uhm-Yes,” Logan says quietly, staring up at the performer on stage, “I’ll be fine.”

Virgil digs into his pocket and pulls out a little cube, he hands it to Logan with a kind expression, “See if that helps your anxiety.”

“I’m not anxious, there’s no reason for me to be anxious.” Logan scoffs, taking the little cube and running his thumb over the side with a small silver ball. The movement does make him feel a little better.

Virgil smirks, and flicks his shoulder, “You’re smarter than that, Logan. C’mon.”

He’s right, and Logan knows it. Anxious feelings can be totally irrational and are oftentimes a result of doing something new or stressful.

If he bombed this, it could be very stressful indeed. Janus would certainly not be happy after he put all that work into helping him. Roman would probably laugh, or make some comment about how he knew this would happen. Why did he even care anyway? He didn’t. He was simply falling victim to a very stupid bout of anxiety. When his name is called, he hands Virgil back his cube and makes his way up to the stage. He takes a deep breath, says he is auditioning for no one in particular, and then is cued in. He performs how he was coached, completely ignoring his anxiety and doing the best he possibly could. When he’s finished, Thomas looks very pleased as the crowd claps. Someone even wolf whistles and Logan is fairly certain it’s Remus. He sits quietly for the rest of the auditions, Virgil passes him back the cube.

The cast list won’t be out until Monday, so all the kids have the weekend to spend enjoying their summer. Well, if they don’t enjoy theatre. Logan managed to be very productive on his days off. His chart was filled and he indulged in sleeping in on Saturday. For two days he was not checkmated by social interaction at all, and it was a paradise. He managed to burn through four books from the local library, and was working his way through the fifth when his phone went off. He picked it up, not expecting a text from Virgil.

‘hey. logan i just saw the cast list and...god i really hope you dont get straight-up murdered.’

This had confused him heavily, and then he realized what Virgil might mean and he felt anxiety bubble up into his stomach.

‘How did you see the cast list? Isn’t that classified until tomorrow?’

‘joan and i are tight, they let me see it.’

That makes sense, Virgil seemed close to Joan and Thomas. Closer than he was, at least.

‘Are you willing to tell me who I am playing?’

‘you have to act shocked tomorrow if i do.’

He started to panic, and he looked up at the sky as if pleading with God to make this a dream or a prank.

‘Okay? Please tell me I didn’t get Hamilton.’

‘...sorry…’

His phone goes off a number of times after this, but he had to put it down. The lead? He was playing Hamilton? Alexander Hamilton, the leading man of the hit Broadway musical Hamilton?

The bubble of anxiety in his chest welled up and made him so nauseous that he couldn’t speak for fear of throwing up.

He didn’t expect this, he didn’t even want this. He had been so anxious at the audition, and now he was the lead? What was he going to do? He couldn’t perform half as well as Roman! Why did Thomas choose him in the first place!? The idea of standing on that stage performing with an ensemble made him queasy, but Alexander Hamilton had solos. Songs where he stood alone and faced a crowd of eyes just pouring into him, staring at him. Staring into his soul and seeing that he was just a fake. A hack. The lights would be so bright that he would be able to see into the audience and make out faces. Then, after the audience decided they hated him, he would disappoint Thomas who had picked him to be the lead despite first hearing the songs on Monday. He would be hated by the other performers, a wildly untalented newcomer coming in and taking Roman’s spot as lead-And oh god, how would Roman feel? Virgil was right, Roman was going to kill him. It would be righteous too, Roman deserved it. He’d stolen away the lead role in a show he was passionate about. Why couldn’t the production have been something like Shakespeare? Or, even better, there should have been no production at all!

He manages to stumble his way to his bathroom before he throws up, and he hopes his mother didn’t hear him. His hands are still shaky as he cleans himself up and tries not to think about the play. He still feels nauseous and panicked. He spends thirty minutes calming himself down. His heart rate and breathing had risen substantially, and when he had finally calmed he realized he had even been crying. Managing to pick up his phone again, he looked at Virgil’s messages.

‘logan?’

Then a minute later, ‘logan are you okay?’

A few minutes later, ‘shit are you panicking?’

And a minute ago ‘text me back asap’

It’s nice to know it was concerning behaviour to Virgil as well. As he thought about his strange spiral of thoughts and forced himself not to think about them all at once, he realized what had just happened. What would continue to happen.

‘I am okay. I believe I just had a panic attack. I haven’t had one in years.’

‘youve had one before?’ Ah, right. He hadn’t discussed this with Virgil. He hadn’t discussed a lot of his past with Virgil.

‘When I was in middle school I had joined debate team, but I realized that public speaking gave me terrible anxiety. I used to take medication to help, as the panic attacks happened semi-regularly. Eventually, I stopped doing debate, and I stopped taking the medication as I thought that would be the end of it. I suppose that was reckless thinking, as it may just be a form of performance anxiety overall.’

‘why then, pray tell, are you fucking doing theatre?’ Logan smiles a little at that, he wondered too.

‘I thought it would go away.’ Logan can almost see Virgil rolling his eyes at the comment, ‘I will speak to my mother and get more medication.’

Then he thinks of Virgil's behaviour and asks, ‘Also, and I apologize if I am overstepping, do you not have an anxiety disorder?’

‘yeah ive got regular anxiety and social anxiety. its a bunch of bullshit. why do you think im on tech?’ He feels a little bad for Virgil now, anxiety disorders are not very pleasant. He only has bouts of anxiety situationally, he can’t imagine it being near-constant.

‘I assumed it was because you enjoyed it. I will go and speak with my mother immediately.’

‘was being sarcastic L. anyway, tell me how it goes.’ Logan stops when he reads this. Tell him how it goes? That is an invitation to message him regularly, right? It sounds like it, or at least to tell him about a problem that has been irking him. That...that is a thing meant for friends right?

‘Are you sure? I was under the impression that our speaking was reserved for the theatre.’

‘i mean, it can be. but we can be out-of-theatre friends too. if you want. no pressure.’

This...this was a very welcome surprise. He supposed that despite his rebound into performance anxiety, making one of his first friends in a very long time could prove enjoyable. Scheduling conflicts aside.

‘I would enjoy that. I will update you.’

When he asks his mother about going back on his anxiety medication, she immediately jumps into a very motherly mode. She pulls him into a hug, and pets his hair, asking if anything is wrong, if he’s okay, the whole nine yards. As much as any teenager would hate to admit it, he loved his mother very dearly. This affection was...a lot, yes, but he could endure it for her. She was only showing her care. It was late afternoon, so the doctor was still open. Out of some insane luck, they managed to get an appointment that afternoon and he had his medication by later that night.

‘Virgil, I am happy to inform you that I am now in possession of medication for my anxiety again!’

‘that was super quick, congrats, im happy for you L.’

They talked for much longer, and Logan felt pleased by his gain in mood. Surprisingly, he was even able to talk about the books he had read with Virgil. If Sunday was on his chart, Logan is certain Virgil would get a twelve for today. Even if that broke his scale.

He made it a point to ask his father to stop and get coffee the next morning. Partially for him, yes. The medication was new to his system again and had made him slightly groggy when it started taking effect. Though it was partially to get a “thank you” gift for Virgil. He had asked what kind of coffee he liked the previous night when they had talked, and ordered his favourite. He offered to pay for his and Virgil’s coffee, but his father simply shrugged.

“You’ve had a hard week, I’ll buy it for you.”

He smiled softly, appreciating his father’s kind gesture more than he would ever say out loud. When they arrived he even gave him a hug, which was hard with two coffee cups but he made it work.

Before entering the auditorium he took a deep breath, and reminded himself that everything was going to work out. Which may be a lie, but he would have to enter to find out wouldn’t he? With a push, he made his way in. He regretted it almost instantly. He could hear Roman yelling backstage, probably having seen the cast list. To be fair, Logan didn’t know who Roman was cast as, but he hopes it wasn’t all too bad. Quickly, he manages to avoid any kids who are in the auditorium seats and slinks his way up into the tech booth.

“Good morning, Virgil.” He says, setting down Virgil’s coffee in front of him.

Virgil looks surprised, “Morning, is this for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” Logan asks, making Virgil smirk.

“Thanks, you should hurry down and look at the cast list though. Roman might rip it to pieces.”

Logan nods and hurries out, but makes the decision to leave his drink with Virgil in case of any...emergency.

Ducking into the backstage area, he finds Patton trying to calm down Roman, who is very very angry. Remus is laughing again, but Logan doesn’t know what is so funny about his imminent demise. Janus is the first to notice his presence and gives him a sympathetic nod.

“Patton, he hadn’t even heard of Hamilton until a week ago! What kind of lead even is that!?”

“Look, I don’t understand it either, but when Thomas gets here you can talk to him! I’m sure Logan is going to be shocked when he gets…” Patton had noticed him and was now staring, “here…”

Roman notices and turns on him and shoves the cast list into his face, “Look at this, Logan! You! You are playing Hamilton! Are you happy!?”

Logan sighs deeply, taking the list and looking it over, “Not in the slightest if that makes you feel any better.”

“That actually somehow makes me feel worse!” Roman shouts then sits down in one of the backstage chairs to pout.

Janus holds back his laughter, “Wow Logan, this is totally not hilarious at all, Roman should totally be pouting like a little kid and throwing a fit.”

“Guys! Seriously! It’s not a bad thing! Logan’s audition was amazing!” Patton says as cheerfully as usual and walks closer to Logan to point at the cast list, “Look, I’m playing Eliza! That’s super awesome! We’ll be doing a lot of scenes together so I hope we can become better friends!”

Logan just nods, going back to reading. Him as Hamilton, with Roman as his understudy. Along with being his understudy, Roman was going to play George Washington. Logan liked George Washington’s part, and though he didn’t understand his being Hamilton, he’s glad Roman got a large role. Janus would be playing Aaron Burr, which made a lot of sense. Janus would be wonderful as Burr. Patton, as he already said, would be playing Eliza. This was...a bit of a problem, the more Logan thought about it. Patton would be playing his love interest. He...he would think about that when it mattered more. Remus would be playing King George, which Logan was glad about. Remus seemed to really want to play the villain. Though Remus’ name was next to another character’s name as well. Maria Reynolds. Remus Grimm playing King George and Maria Reynolds. He would be in a scene where Remus would have to actively seduce him.

Just as he started to wrap his head around this, Remus slung an arm over his shoulder.

“Ain’t it just great that I get to be a monarch and a whore!? I, personally, couldn’t be happier. Make money, get dick, I always say!” Remus says excitedly.

Logan chokes on his own spit, and has to cough a bit before he can reply, “I can see how the seduction angle appeals to you.”

“It won’t appeal to me if you get sick and Roman ends up Hamilton!”

Logan visibly cringes and Remus chuckles, “So you better not drop out or something, dork! I can do a lot of gross shit but acting out the seduction of my twin brother is way too gross.”

Thinking for a second, Logan turns to look at Remus, who is smiling at him. His teeth are so sharp. His eye shadow is bright violet and a mess. He really does look like he had recently been at a rave.

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint you, Remus.”

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jadekitty777 · 5 years ago

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Umbrella

@chiherah drew the cutest Fair Game sketch of Clover and Qrow sharing an umbrella at my request. And thus, I got inspired.

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 1900

Ao3 Link: Umbrella

Summary: It’s pouring out and Qrow has no umbrella. Luckily, the cute, new guy at the apartment complex is willing to share his. [Modern AU]

Qrow liked to think of his mornings as chaotically organized.

That is to say that he got up at 6:40 sharp every morning, spent 5 minutes on downing a burning cup of instant coffee, 12 minutes on his bathroom routine, and was out the lobby doors of the apartment complex by 7:02 to catch the 7:10 bus that was two blocks away. He had it down to an art, always was on time without failure every day; and though he’d probably benefit from turning his clock back even five minutes to avoid rush, why change something that wasn’t broken?

Problem was, being so precise with his schedule didn’t leave for any opportunity to make last minute adjustments. Like, for example, grabbing an umbrella. Or a coat.

Qrow stood in the foyer that acted as a go-between to the lobby and the outside world, sourly staring at the sheets of rain coming down in thick torrents from the sky. As he pulled out his phone, hoping by some miracle he had three minutes to spare, he stepped aside as he heard the door open behind him to get out of the way of whomever it was.

7:02 AM laughed back at him.

“Shit.” He grumbled.

“Everything alright?”

He jumped, looking over to the person who’d joined him in the foyer. Brunette hair, teal eyes, and an easy-going smile greeted him in return. He instantly recognized him as the new guy who’d taken Maria Calavera’s old apartment when she’d moved out into assisted living earlier on this month (A fact he was a bit salty about – he liked that old codger). Qrow also happened to already know his name because, by habit one day, he went to go get Maria’s mail for her and found a new name etched on the box: Clover Ebi.

He’d caught a few glances of him in passing, but this was his first up-close contact and the realization hit him hard over how unforgivably handsome he was.

“Uh, yeah.” He avoided his gaze when he realized he was staring. “Just, forgot it was going to rain, is all.”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate.”

Qrow snorted. “Buddy, that’s my middle name. Anyways, see ya.” He offered him a wave before walking into the storm. He ducked his head as the rain instantly assaulted him, feeling cold spikes hit along the back of his neck and exposed arms. He sighed, crossing his arms and hunching over as he started his miserable walk to the bus stop, knowing he was going to be drenched by the time he got there.

Or so he thought, until a shadow fell over him, the rain blocked from above.

“You know, I had thought you were going to go back up and grab a coat at least. You’ll catch your death of cold going out like that.”

He tilted his head up, spotting the turquoise umbrella with little, happy aquatic creatures patterned along it, then to the one who had offered it. “Don’t have time. I’ll miss the bus.”

Clover’s smile hadn’t faltered, even as he was pelted by the rain. “Where ya headed? I’ll walk you there.”

Despite the chill in the air, he could feel heat creeping up his neck. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”

Wow, real grateful. Good job Qrow. A+ social skills.

But if it offended the other, he didn’t show it, stepping closer so he could hide under the umbrella as well. “Actually, I’m running early. I don’t mind, really.”

“I uh, well, sure, thanks.” He said articulately, his sociability surely continuing to impress.

“Lead the way.” As they started down the street, shoulders nearly touching, he offered. “I’m Clover, by the way.”

“Qrow.” He replied. With his profile now in his sight-line, it made him realize his left ear was pierced, a little silver shamrock twinkling there. Huh, cute. “Soo,” He drawled, feigning obliviousness, “You just moved in, didn’t you?”

“Yep, all the way from Montana.” Clover replied.

“Montana?” He felt his eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, easily picturing lush forests and grand mountain ranges and snow fall ten feet deep. He had to wonder if the guy also had a deer head mounted on the wall and a bearskin rug in his living room. “That’s quite a move. Why’d you come out all this way? It not like Wilmington is the Los Angeles of North Carolina.”

Clover laughed. It was a very nice sound that had Qrow’s heart pattering harder than the rain along their nylon shelter. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Honestly though? The beach.”

“Okay, fair.” He conceded. Wrightsville Beach was less than an hour away from here, and was the one of the east coast’s most beautiful tourist attractions for a reason. The stunning, deep blue water and wide sandy banks were easy attractions to an appreciative eye and had a calming effect on the soul. Back during his more insomniac years in Uni, Qrow would oftentimes head down there just to capture the sunrises on his easel.

“I’ve always loved the sea, so when my job offered a relocation opportunity out here, I knew I’d be stupid not to take it.” Clover continued. “Kind of hoping for some time off to rent a boat, maybe do some fishing.”

Well, now the aquatic creatures above them made more sense.

Qrow stuffed his hands into his pockets, trying to keep them warm. “You fish?”

“I know, it’s about the most boring thing you’ve ever heard, right?” He joked.

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, focusing more on the cracks in the concrete as he hesitantly admitted, “Actually, I uh, I bird watch.”

Immediately as the words flew out of his mouth, he regretted them. Of all the things he could have said! What was he thinking, telling this cute guy about his dumb, weird hobby? Now, he probably thought he was about as drab as a broken lamp.

“Really?”

…So then why did he sound so awestruck?

Qrow swallowed his nerves. “Yeah, my parents were ornithologists and they were a little obsessed with their work. It’s why they named me and my sis after birds. Raven hated it.” He did another shoulder roll, feeling that blush creeping up on him again. “But my parents were always so fascinated and one day I decided I wanted to try and see what was so special about ‘em and well, I didn’t care for all the science and stuff, but I liked watching them fly and build nests. I even learned how to do a few calls.”

“Really?” Clover’s eyes widened. “Can I hear one?”

“What? No!” Now he was positive the blush was on his face.

“I won’t laugh, I promise.”

He just shook his head even more vehemently.

“Alright, then I guess I’ll just have to improvise.”

What?

Clover cupped a hand over his mouth, took a deep breath, and then let out a series of loud squawks. “Caw-caw! Caw-caw!”

Qrow watched him a moment, briefly flabbergasted, and then just started to laugh. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Bird-calling.” He replied innocently.

“That is not bird calling.”

“Well then,” He lent forward in the small space the umbrella offered, his smile coy. “Guess I got to learn from the master.”

Yep. He was red a tomato, for sure. “Alright, jeez, you swindler. I’ll do one.” Ignoring the way Clover’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree, Qrow regretfully unearthed his hands from their temporary warmth. He thought over which one to do that was both easy for him but also impressive. “Okay, this’ll be a canary.”

He’d learned how to do that one in high school, and it taken him months to get it just right. The moment he did though, he belted it out randomly in the halls, enjoying the slight chaos it caused the other kids as they tried to find the source of the noise. Just like he used to back then, he pressed the pinkies of both hands to his lips, curled back his tongue a bit, and whistled through them, vibrating his vocal chords just enough to make the sharp trill of the bright yellow bird, the sound easily piercing over the falling rain.

Unlike his classmates though, Clover wasn’t fooled by who had made the noise. “Wow.” He breathed. “That was spectacular.”

“Ehehe, not really.” Qrow rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes really.” He knocked his arm gently with the umbrella stem. “Don’t cut yourself so short. I bet that was hard to learn how to do.”

How was this guy so nice? Helplessly, he scrambled to respond, “I mean, not as hard as the seagull.” At the other’s sudden, eager grin, he gave a firm, “No.”

“Aah, alright.” Clover surrendered, “We’re almost at the stop anyways.”

Qrow glanced forward, spotting the familiar black structure just a few feet away. As the approached it, he ducked under the curved roof that functioned as a blissful shelter form the rain, and turned back to the man who had gotten him here, realizing this was probably goodbye.

He was surprised by how disappointed he suddenly felt.

“Uh, thanks, for, you know.” He said, gesturing around himself as words again failed him. There was a reason he never took public speaking in school.

“It was no trouble, really.” Clover replied, that easygoing smile back on his face.

He crossed his arms, rubbing the exposed skin idly. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah – oh, wait.” Suddenly, the other stepped into the shelter with him, flipping his umbrella upside down and leaning it up against the bench. Then in one smooth motion, he yanked the green hoodie up and over his back, running a hand through his hair to fix the little quiff at the front.

Qrow’s brain short-circuited because whoa, muscles.

Clover held it out to him. “Here, you can borrow this.”

“Huh?” He looked from those nicely toned arms to the offering to his eyes, suddenly catching up to the situation. “No, I couldn’t.”

“I have time to go back and get another. Besides,” He winked, short circuiting Qrow’s brain again, “It’s not like you don’t know where I live.”

Oh. Oooh.

Qrow was experienced enough to recognize the gesture for what it really was: a surefire guarantee that they’d run into each other again.

Now how could he ever refuse that?

“Suppose I do.” He quipped back as suave as he could. He took the hoodie, pulling it on. It smelt like pine, heady and rich and despite their similar heights, it still dwarfed his leaner frame. Some of the other’s body heat still lingered in the fabric and he couldn’t help but melt into the much-needed warmth. He fingered one of the strings, trying to remain casual as he subtly offered, “I’ll return it tonight. Around…?”

“6:30.” Clover rested the umbrella back on his shoulder, expression just as sly. “Maybe we could catch some dinner too?”

Qrow felt his stomach flutter, face easing into a grin. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date.” As he stepped back out into the rain, he winked at him again. “See you soon pretty bird.”

“See you.” He returned, watching the other leave, eyes scanning along his backside and appreciating the view.

Despite the dreary beginnings, it was shaping up to be a great morning after all.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 years ago

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Return to Me - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Home

A/N: Hi all! I don’t think I have very many notes for this chapter. I included a few faceclaim in this chapter again just to remind you what everyone looks like as we get reintroduced to some characters. I think that’s it. Let me know what you think! I love you all and love talking to you guys! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,445 Synopsis: After a perfect night together, the reader and Poe head to Naboo to assess the damages of the First Order, and decide what this means for them from now on.

Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @daniellajocelyn, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston, @roserrys

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Leia Organa woke the next morning knowing that something had changed. She climbed out of her best pilot’s old bed and stretched her weary bones.

In her years of politics and rebellions, she had made many connections, and through these connections, she had learned a few things about people. It was true what Maz always said, if you lived long enough, you started to see the same eyes in different people. Leia was able to tell when people were hiding their true intentions, when she was being used, and she knew that when people were in close quarters with each other, certain things were absolutely to come true. Especially when these people were so in love with each other, it was a crime seeing them apart.

As Leia stepped out of her room, she started to make her way downstairs. In the hall, early light had begun to stream through the windows, and she assumed she was the only one who had risen with the sun. But as she made her way to the kitchen, she heard quiet voices.

You were sitting at the counter, giggling at something Poe had said, still wearing the dress you had worn last night. Poe had his arm around the back of your chair, and was standing only a few inches from you. You touched his face and started to bring him in for a kiss. Leia couldn’t help the smirk that started to grow on her face but pushed it away as she cleared her throat.

“General!” Poe shouted, quickly pulling away from you. So fast, in fact, that he ended up knocking his chin into your nose. “Shit, sorry,” he said, looking away from Leia to check on you. You nodded your head, still giggling at him. Trained in the ways of queenly grace and composure, you had an intense blush on your cheeks and frazzled hair, clueing Leia in on what kind of a night you had with Poe.

“Morning, Leia,” you said, clearing your throat as you stood and took a step away from Poe.

“What’s going on here?” she asked as the two of you struggled for an answer. “A strategy meeting, perhaps?” she offered.

“Yes!” you both yelled at the same time before laughing nervously.

“You know, when I was younger, I always had an excuse when I did something I shouldn’t have. That way, when I got caught, I didn’t look like such a fool.” You chuckled and dropped your face in your hands. Poe looked at you with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes, it made Leia smile. She had seen few people as truly in love with their spouse, or former spouse, as the two of you were.

“We were actually planning, Leia,” you said, looking at her with a gentle smile. “I got word from Naboo last night.”

“What?” she asked, taking a seat at the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You didn’t give me much time,” you said, looking at Poe with a little bit of panic. “We didn’t want to wake everyone, and figured we would need a plan of action before we head out to Naboo.”

“We,” Leia said with a smirk, glancing up at Poe. He laughed quitely to himself and looked down at his toes. “Well, what did this transmission from Naboo say?”

“It came from Broden. He said that the First Order had taken Naboo, but they were able to rise up against them. The First Order is gone, and Broden says that it’s safe for me to come back now.”

“Well, we’ll plan something together. You better head upstairs before anyone else gets up. It’s not very royal to wear the same dress two days in a row,” Leia said, looking at you playfully. You opened your mouth to argue but only laughed again.

“Right. Thank you.” You looked back at Poe before leaving. He nodded and gave you a quick wink as you disappeared up the stairs. He turned his gaze back to Leia just as she moved closer to him. Before he knew what was happening, she smacked him upside the head.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asked.

“Do you know how to communicate with your words?” he asked, clutching the back of his head.

“What was that?”

“We thought you’d want to know,” he said with the smallest smirk.

“Poe, you’re an idiot.”

“Now, hang on—”

“You do realize you’re setting yourself up to get hurt again, right?” she asked. Poe sighed and looked away from her.

“I’m not sure about that,” he said with a shake of his head, “Maybe, but I can’t let her go.” Leia sighed and nodded her head.

“I understand, but you need to be careful. What about Naboo?” she asked, sitting down at the kitchen counter.

“It really did come late last night. Broden said that Naboo’s military fought off the First Order and that they had left a few moments before he called.”

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked.

“We thought about leaving last night, but of course we got distracted. A few times, actually,” he said, smirking, “And I didn’t want her leaving without a proper reconnaissance mission.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Most logical course of action was not to send one of the most important people in the galaxy to a formerly First Order occupied planet all by herself.”

“I agree.”

“I figured I’d lead the scouting mission.”

“Aren’t you supposed to head with your father to the old base?” Leia asked.

“I’m sure Dad can find his old base perfectly fine on his own. But it’s all a matter of where you want me, General,” he said, smiling at her charmingly. Leia gave him a tired smile.

“Naboo. Because I know there’s no way you’ll let anyone else go with Y/N.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you gather up the rest of Black Squadron.”

“Yes, General.”

“And don’t forget, you’ll have to return that ship to Grakkus sooner or later.”

“I know.”

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“Y/N!” Nové said, jumping back slightly as you threw open the hatch to the attic.

“Hey,” you said, looking around the room nervously. It was clear that someone has spent the night in the pile of blankets, and you braced yourself for a legendary Nové scolding as you pulled yourself up.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Good. You?”

“Great. The floor wasn’t too hard?” You bit your lip and gave her a sympathetic smile.

“It was fine.”

“I cannot believe you,” she said, with the tiniest trace of a smile on her face.

“You can’t believe me?” you challenged, “Weren’t you out with Jess all night?” Nové couldn’t hide her smile at all and busted into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Y/N! We had the best night!”

“Really?”

“Yes!” she squealed, squeezing your arms, “Oh, I had forgotten how much I missed her.” She started to ramble on about their night, oftentimes branching into topics that were incredibly too personal, which only made her smile more. When Nové finished her rant, she sat down next to you, noticing your matching smiles.

“How was your night with Poe?” she asked quietly. Her eyes were wide, sympathetic. She wouldn’t scold you just yet because she could tell the effect that last night had on you.

“Amazing. Like it always was.”

“That’s great,” she said quietly. She reached for your hand and looked into your eyes. “I hate to be that person,” she began.

“But you’re going to, aren’t you?”

“You know you’re just setting yourself up to get hurt, don’t you?”

“Maybe, maybe not. The galaxy is not the way it was when we split up. Maybe with the way things are now—”

“Your parents won’t try to set you up with Lin Ral anymore? Poe will just be done fighting the First Order?” You frowned and pulled your hand out of hers. “I’m sorry it’s just . . .”

“It’s okay. You’re right. I know it was probably stupid, but—”

“I know,” she said with a nod. “So, what’s next for us?”

“We’re going back to Naboo.”

“What?” she asked with a smile.

“God, sorry, I can’t believe I forgot. We got a transmission from Broden last night. He says they were able to fight the First Order off. We’re heading there today after we figure out our course of action.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I know.” She wrapped you in a warm embrace, and when you pulled away, she was smiling as you were. “Do you snag anything else from Serenno? I don’t think I should wear this dress in public.”

“Yeah, I think I have a few more options. We’ll make sure you look perfect for a return to your people.” You took in a deep breath, suddenly preparing yourself to become Bhavisama again. Your trip to the Resistance had been wonderful, and you felt more connected with yourself and your old friends, but you were still the queen. You had to lead your people in whatever capacity they were going to need.

Nové made her way back to the Millennium Falcon and came back with a dress fit for a royal return. You stripped the stained yellow gown and slipped on the blue one. She helped you tie your hair in a tight, low hanging bun at the nape of your neck, complete with a shimmery tie, before leading you downstairs.

In the kitchen, the remaining, trustworthy members of the Resistance had gathered around the kitchen island. Kes was the first to notice your presence and smiled at the both of you. He did a double-take when he saw you and his smile dimmed just slightly as he took in your appearance. So, you did look more like Bhavisama than Y/N.

“Ready to go?” Poe asked.

“Yes.” Your eyes found his and fire warmed your cheeks. He gave you a quick smile before looking back to the group.

“General Organa, Commander D’Acy, Karé, and I will be accompanying Y/N and Nové back to Naboo. If all is well like Lord Broden suggested, we will be back by the end of the day. Well, most of us will,” he said, glancing up at you quickly. “Naboo will be the first location to start our defense against the First Order. Y/N has agreed to start rallying the troops as we reconstruct the galaxy into the way we knew it, but this will only be the first step. While we’re gone, everyone here will need to work on clearing out the old base and finding a new one. We’re crazy to have a base on the same planet, especially knowing that the First Order has planet-destroying knowledge of technology, but we’re not crazy enough to put the base in the same location.

“Everyone, keep your eyes and minds open. We need to be safe, but we also need to stay mindful of others to gather to our cause. We aren’t the only ones who have a problem with the First Order. They’ll be the easiest ones to convince, we just need to pay attention. Any questions?”

Within the next few minutes, you walked side by side with Nové onto the Millennium Falcon. You took your seat and tried to calm your nerves. The ship was plenty big enough that you wouldn’t get nervous flying but thinking about the despair that your planet most likely sat in, and the work that you had ahead, made your stomach churn.

“You alright?” You looked up, a few minutes after the ship had taken off, to find Poe standing in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll scout it out before you land. You’ll know exactly what you’ll be walking into.”

“Thank you,” you said, standing up. “For everything.” You brushed his cheek gently and he kissed the palm of your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thak you, you’re sweet.” He smiled and seemed like he was about to move closer as you stepped back. “You should get back to piloting. Karé might need your help if things go south.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head. He hesitated for a moment but left soon after, leaving you in peace to think about what you would find when you landed.

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The scouting mission went well. Poe and Karé had only been gone for a few minutes when they reported back that all seemed well. They came back aboard and quickly landed your ship just outside of Theed Palace.

The doors lowered slowly out onto the hangar, giving you a few moments to truly transform yourself back into Bhavisama. The first faces you saw were Loré’s and Sondé’s. You broke your composure for a moment as you squealed in delight. You rushed down the Falcon as quickly as you could in your dress and embraced them both tightly.

“My lady,” they both said, squeezing you back equally as tight.

“Are you alright?” you asked, looking them up and down.

“We’re fine,” Loré answered. “Where is—” Before she could finish her statement, she glanced behind you and saw Nové. She ran towards her and they embraced in an even tighter hug. You smiled at them as a throat cleared behind you.

“Sarsa,” you said with a relieved sigh. He stood a few feet back, his hands held dignifiedly behind his back. He gave you a curt smile as you moved towards him. You threw your arms around him, too excited to see your old friend to care about proper decorum. He laughed slightly, taken aback by your quick action, but hugged you back.

“It’s so good to have you back. We’ve missed you,” he said.

“Me too. How is Naboo?” you asked. He took your hand in his and frowned.

“We are still strong, Your Highness, but we have taken a serious hit.”

“Show me. Please,” you said, taking in a breath.

“Of course.” He looked behind you and smiled at Leia and Commander D’Acy. He excused himself for a moment and went to speak to them for a few minutes. Karé and Poe were the last ones to exit the ship, and both came directly to you.

“What’s going on?” Poe asked, touching your arm gently.

“Broden is going to show me how bad it is in a moment.”

“You okay?” he asked, pulling you away from everyone for a moment. You glanced over at Karé who gave you a quick smile, and then looked back to Poe with one of your own.

“I need to be here for my people. I have to be.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding his head. His jaw stiffened as he looked out along the hangar and you would have done anything to kiss him right then and there.

“Y/N.” You looked away from Poe’s face to find Sarsa walking closer to you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He extended his arm and you took it, allowing him to lead you into Theed palace, your handmaidens and guests following behind.

If no one had mentioned that the First Order had briefly occupied Naboo, it was impossible to tell that they had even come. The palace was left alone, or your people had quickly scrambled to clean up any mess the First Order might have left. Broden led you through the throne room and into one of the meeting halls down the vast, marble halls, the ones that usually housed your council meetings. He led you directly to your seat and waited until you looked comfortable before walking away. You exchanged a strange look with Nové, and both turned to look at Loré for answers, but she averted her eyes. The rest of your group filed into the room and Broden waited until they were all seated until he began.

“When you left,” he said, clearing his throat as he stood before the group, “We started getting strange, coded transmissions. We suspected they might be from you, that maybe you were trying to send us a message from the heavily encrypted Resistance. We soon found out that that was not the case. We were immediately notified when the First Order ships entered out atmosphere, but that was the only warning we got. They attacked the villages first. They had already begun to capture civilians as we scrambled our military together. I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, coming closer to you, taking your hand in his, “I couldn’t bear to see our people hurt, I had to surrender.”

“I understand,” you said, nodding your head.

“They took control of the palace. The rest of the council and I were thrown into the dungeons. Loré was assigned to attend to their leader. She was incredibly brave,” he said, looking over at her. She dipped her head respectfully, but it was clear she had a smile on her face. “And it was her bravery, fooling the First Order and speaking with our troops, that she was able to create a diversion so that we could overthrow them. The moment they were gone, I reached out to you.”

“Who was this military leader?” you asked, looking back at Loré.

“An Agent Terex,” she said. There was an unmistakable look of worry that was exchanged between Poe and Leia.

“Do you know him?” you asked.

“Yes,” Poe said with a sigh.

“Terex made it his mission to destroy the Resistance,” Leia explained, “He had a particularly foul obsession with Poe.”

“Look, he tried to kill me a couple of times. Who hasn’t?” Poe asked, trying to give you an easy smile, but it was clear that there was a little bit of worry behind his eyes.

“Why would he come here, though?”

“After failing to defeat the Resistance for the millionth time, the First Order took Terex back and fitted him with a cyber piece of headwear. He’s not really a man anymore,” Poe said, shuddering slightly, “He’s controlled by the First Order, and I don’t think you have to guess why they might want Naboo.”

“How bad is it?” you asked, looking back to Broden.

“I won’t lie to you, my lady, it’s not good.”

“I need to see,” you said, standing.

“Y/N, you just got here,” Loré began, stepping closer to you.

“Loré is right, we haven’t even begun to survey what happened to our people, yet. It’s not safe for you—”

“These are my people, Sarsa,” you said, looking into his eyes, “It’s my responsibility to come to them in their time of need. He looked like he wanted to argue more, but he conceded and averted his eyes from you.

“At least allow us to do a sweep of the village. Make sure that there isn’t a crumb of the First Order left behind,” he said. You began to argue, but he held up his hand. “Please. In the meantime, you can contact your parents. Leia told me,” he answered before you could ask. “They should be here, too.”

“Alright.”

“Give me one hour, please,” he said. You nodded your agreement, albeit a little reluctantly. “Thank you.” He motioned for some of the guards at the doors to follow him, leaving you alone with the rest of the crew from the Millennium Falcon.

“Loré, Sondé,” you said, looking behind you. They steppeded forward and took your outstretched hands. “Thank you, so much, for everything you did here.”

“It is our honor and duty, my lady,” Sondé said. You smiled at them admiringly.

“Can I ask you one more favor?” you asked, looking at Sondé. “Can you contact my parents? They’re on Serenno with Count Lin Ral.”

“Of course,” Sondé said, excusing herself from the room. Once she was gone, you gave Loré’s hand another squeeze.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you asked.

“Perfectly fine now that you’re here. Just, never leave me with the First Order again,” she teased. You smiled at her weakly. It was true, you had left her with the First Order. You had left all of our people to fend for themselves against the greatest threat the galaxy had seen in some time.

“I promise I’ll never leave you again.” You gave her a kind smile before turning to the group.

“Do you want us to stay?” Leia asked, stepping closer to you.

“I absolutely do, but I know that your help is needed elsewhere.”

“We won’t leave until the sweep is complete.”

“Thank you.” You looked over at Poe quicky. When your eyes found Leia’s again she smiled knowingly. “Would you excuse us for a minute?” you asked.

“Of course,” Leia said, taking a step back. You nodded your head towards the door and Poe followed you. Once you were sure the hallway was empty, you brought him to a secluded corner and sat down on a bench.

“I just needed to talk to you before things went back to normal,” you said.

“Things felt much more normal between us last night than they have in the last two years,” he said.

“I know,” you said, smiling as you turned closer to him, your knee brushing against his. “But things are going to go back to the way they were. We’ll be in two different worlds.”

“I know.”

“I just need you to know that if my people didn’t absolutely need me here, or if there was someone else who could do campaigning for the Resistance—”

“I know, you don’t have to say it,” Poe said, touching your knee softly.

“Yes, I do. I wish I could be with you.”

“Me too,” he said, smiling gently. “But at least you’re home now.” You leaned in and placed an easy kiss to his lips, humming softly.

“It feels less like it now. Whatever becomes of us, I need you to know that I love you. More than anyone or anything.”

“I love you, too.” He wrapped you in his arms again. You tried to hold back the tears as you stroked his soft hair. He pulled away first and held you a few inches away from him, his hands still firmly on your waist. “This isn’t the end of us.”

“I hope that’s true.”

“It is,” he said, pulling at your bottom lip as you started to chew on it. “We should get back.”

“I know.” Poe stood up first and helped you to your feet.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” he said. You brushed his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Thank you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In less than an hours’ time, you watched with Broden as the Millennium Falcon took off, headed back for Yavin 4. Broden gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The village just outside of Theed Palace was destroyed. The stalls that used to be full of bountiful, colorful goods were now overturned and smashed. The flowers that surrounded the area, the barrier between the river and the town, were now burnt to ash, most likely from machines repeatedly flying over them. There was one difference to the village that left you truly speechless, though, and that was the stench of death.

There were smoldering fires in every few corners of the village; makeshift funerals for the Naboo killed by the First Order. As you walked through town, scared eyes began to poke out from fallen walls and burnt down doors.

Upon seeing their queen returned, the villagers began to filter out of their hiding places. You wish you could have said that the villagers looked better than the village, but they were just as injured as the buildings around them. They took hesitant steps closer to you, glancing around themselves to make sure that the danger was truly gone.

“Please, please, don’t be afraid,” Broden said, finding his words much quicker than you could. “Our queen has returned, and together, we’re going to restore Naboo to its former glory.”

“What about the First Order?” someone in the crowd called. “What if they return?”

“Why did you leave us, Bhavisama?” called another.

“Where are we supposed to go?”

The village people’s calls started to overlap each other, so it became increasingly more difficult for you to address their issues. Before a riot could break out steps away from the palace, you looked to Broden. He called for silence as you stepped in front of him and your people.

“It’s true, I was gone. If I had any inkling that Naboo was not as safe as possible with my council, I would not have left. The First Order is an incredibly dangerous threat to our way of life, to the lives of so many across the galaxy. I left because there is only one group out there who is taking the correct action against the First Order: the Resistance.

“Now that the Republic has been destroyed, the Resistance is the only chance that any of us still have against the First Order. I left to discuss how Naboo could aid in their fight. The moment I heard what happened here, I wanted to return. It was for the safety of the Resistance, all of you, and myself that I stayed away until the First Order was gone.

“We have always been a peaceful planet, but make no mistake, I am angry. The First Order will be brought to proper justice, but first, we have to start rebuilding. We will start here, right in the heart of the village, in the heart of Naboo, until our traditions and way of life, is returned to us. We will reshape the galaxy back into harmony. And I promise, I will never leave you all again.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #sw imagine #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #return to me

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kachinnate · 5 years ago

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we’ve finally come time for the one (1) annual Kayla’s Having a Bad Time post

i don’t know anymore what exactly is wrong with me but wow!! is it bad!!! and wow do i hate it !!!!! i have not gone a day w/o crying in like a week and a half and i’m so tired, i’m literally so tired of hating myself just for existing and i’m tired of all the little things that should not upset me upsetting me only because they’re in masse, only because all together it’s so much and i only have two fucking hands

and like in the back of my mind even fucking still i’m like “.... okay but placebo effect. okay but you aren’t really sad tho. okay but you literally just don’t want to get better you are doing this for attention you are doing this bc being content would be easy and you just want to stir the pot clearly, just stop” to the point where i’m like I Guess I Have To Prove to even myself that i am fucking justified in feeling the way that i do before my brain gaslights itself into thinking that there was never anything wrong with me to begin with and that i’ve fucking put myself in this hole myself for no reason other than ... i don’t even know! i don’t know

makes a list in my notes :) to remember all the heinous bullshit going on :) and maybe for catharsis reasons i don’t fucking care anymore

- it’s the anniversary of the thing. you know. ;) the kind of traumatic experience of having the people i called best friends fucking uhhh pick on me every day for the entirety of like eight months - on my eating habits on my behavior on my anxiety on the things they knew i fucking hated about myself - only for them to just. drop me all of a sudden, on THEIR own terms, as if I was the one who fucking did anything to THEM, thus rendering me from never getting my own fucking closure from the situation ! i have both of them still added as friends on snapchat and i follow them on instagram because for some reason i know that if i just blocked them it would cause problems (what problems?? what arbitrary fucking problems???) seeing their faces makes me feel literal actual dread, i can’t go to one of the restaurants in my town alone because they work there and i hate it ! i hated every second of april 2019 - september 2019 where i felt fucking psychotic for being upset over this situation, where i couldn’t convince myself that i wasn’t insane for being strung up and i couldn’t even call it trauma until like march when someone coined it that for me themselves lol ,,,, i hate myself for still giving them my thoughts, i hate myself for wondering that in a different universe where i wasn’t as fucking stupid or ditzy if they’d still talk to me. i hate myself for wondering if ***** looks at the message i left on her poster last april where i told her how much i admired her and loved her and thinks about me, because that was probably the last time i ever said anything real to her, which... haha. what a JOKE right?

- my rsd has somehow fucking spiked and gotten so much worse in like.. the last eight days. literally when i first posted ‘sweet hibiscus tea’ i went and checked it a few days after and it had like. two dislikes? and i like. cried? :) which is so dramatic and i hate it djksgndsg i can’t go a day reading messages or texts from anyone who talks to me without finding one that’s not inherently positive and picking it apart until i’ve hurt myself over something that wasn’t even related, im too sensitive about EVERYTHING but i don’t know how to address it or deal with it so i just don’t which i think is... why it’s getting worse oop. it gets triggered by literally fucking everything i hate it here

- one of the only things bringing me any sort of serotonin rn is making content. hense the hyperfixating on my r and on this oneshot and on the writing meme things, like. it makes me feel productive, but hyperfixating for me oftentimes leads to a bad headspace which makes me fucking disoriented when i come out of it, and like. ofc there’s the typical things w it too like me forgetting to do other shit like eat or whatever but it’s literally been the only way i can cope with myself. making things. getting validation for things. if i can entertain someone for like, ten minutes, maybe anything i do matters. maybe. fuck.

- i can’t not self isolate myself when things are bad, i just. can’t sdjgnsd like i hate talking about myself i hate talking about the way i feel because nothing makes sense?? i encourage people to talk to me when they feel bad but i can’t ever do the same for myself because i’m a hypocrite! and like the feelings of worthlessness overpower everything i do! convince me people don’t care and shit when i know that’s not the case, but if i acknowledge that then i have to think about how i’m being selfish by fucking moping but not talking to anyone, and i just! i cannot win !!! ever!

- ^^^^ on that note, literally the few times i’ve felt okay recently i’ve had that ripped right from me by little things people close to me have done, like !! can you not vague me?? regardless of if you see that i’m doing bad mentally or not ???? i’m begging you , i’m so sorry that i’m not acting normal but can you for one second maybe consider that i’m a person ? i may be SAD but i’m not fucking STUPID so if i bother you just tell me ??? it’s the least you can do ??????

- scared i can’t love. scared i’m not morally a good person. scared that i’m selfish but don’t realize it. i wasn’t meant to have a confidant i don’t think and who am i to ever try and subject anyone to my fucked up head

- i’m constantly fucking terrified on my dad’s behalf because this dude is 41 years old yet i’m the fucking adult out of the two of us most of the time? he comes home drunk so often and i’ve thought that he’s had alcohol poisoning more than once and i hate being fucking scared of having to like. contact fafsa or my college like “hey can u adjust my financial aid, because i’m kind of an orphan now? :’)” we don’t have any other family, i can’t ask anyone to help me it’s literally me and him against the world and he’s put me on this pedestal of being an amazing daughter so i feel guilty at the thought of anything happening to him as if i’m his fucking guardian. he drinks so much and he’s so infidelious and ridiculous so what’s going to happen when i leave ?

it’s just. so much. but i don’t want to be a beacon of negative shit because even after all of this i’m self conscious of making other people sad so i pretend that everything’s fine on my sc and in person , which i know gives off the vibe of “but she’s not even acting sad? :///” when i offhandedly mention anywhere that i’ve been depressed and i just. i’m sorry that i don’t post about how when i’m not staring at my huion screen i’m fucking staring at the wall wondering if anyone would fucking notice other than my dad and my coworkers if i just disappeared without a word

it feels selfish to complain about my life feeling bad with all the shit going on, too, on top of that. so it’s better if i just don’t say anything at all, there’s other shit to deal with other than my life falling apart because really this just happens every year around this time doesn’t it. i’ll get over it. i’m being dramatic and stupid and in like two months none of this will even fucking matter

tldr; i need to get my meds upped or something

#irrelevant #do not be obliged to say anything i really just needed to scream on somewhere that wasn't snapchat #bc for legal reasons people don't need to know how i feel <3 #garbage.txt #if you're new here i swear that this isn't normal i'm just fucking bad rn #we'll be back to memes and content momentarily #not proofread #can't look @ this rn #gonna drink some hawaiian punch and probably work on #something #as always <3 #vent #ask to tag #i don't think there's anything particularly Jarring in this but #tw alcohol #longpost #long post

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Mike Damone

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Mikes pretty infamous at your school. Pretty much the entire student body knows who he is; mainly because they’ve bought tickets off of him at one point or another.

- Everyone knows Mike and Mike knows everyone so it’s no surprise that you’d encounter him at some point; even if your initial meeting was a memorable half a second of him checking you out while you both walked to your separate classes.

- When Mike first sees you, he honestly doesn’t think twice about you. He sees you, he processes that you’re decent looking, and then he moves on. He only starts to take real notice of you when you seem completely disinterested in his existence.

- That sounds pretty harsh but it’s the truth. Later that day, he sees you at your locker and he approaches you, introducing himself and making his usual charming conversation. And while you’re arguably incredibly polite, you’re just not into him.

- And for some reason that bothers the hell out of him.

- If it were anyone else, it would have never mattered, and he sincerely does not understand why you’re any different. But the more he thinks about it, the more it bothers him and the more he wants you. Which leads to his pursuit of you.

- Mike likes to act like he doesn’t care; he really does, and he’s gotten pretty good at playing the part, so he always seems pretty nonchalant whenever he approaches you and tries to start a conversation; no matter how little time of day you’ll give him.

- But inside, he is losing his mind. His smile always drops whenever you aren’t looking at him and he lays in bed at night thinking about every tiny amount of attention you give him. He wants to hate you, and maybe he does, but more than that …he thinks he loves you.

- Your usual “avoidance” of him leads to him feeling like a kid on Christmas when you finally talk to him on your own accord; though it’s definitely just to try and purchase tickets. He gives you a ridiculously good deal and is on his best behavior the entire time, trying to charm you as much as he can while you’re actually paying attention to him.

- And to an extent, it does work. He was really sweet and did you a big favor so you felt a little more obligated to play nice. So instead of completely blowing him off, you made an effort to greet him in the halls, sometimes willingly talking with him for a few minutes or giving him a compliment every now and again.

- He’ll talk a big game around other people; mainly Mark, telling him that he’s got you in the bag or somewhat jokingly saying that you’re all over him, but it’s just to save face and keep up his overly confident façade.

- Regardless, you finally agree to let him take you out around a year or so after the two of you first meet. He’d probably asked you out or tried to hint at the two of you potentially hanging out dozens of times but this was the only one you actually accepted which made him do an internal double take.

- There was nothing different about his approach, he played suave, he told you what he was planning on doing that Friday night and then he invited you to join him. But this time you actually agreed, as though it were totally normal, he was compelled to ask if you were feeling all right.

- For your first date, he takes you to the mall and you spend the afternoon/evening going into different stores, grabbing a bite to eat at the food court and so on and so forth.

- You didn’t expect it but the two of you actually hit it off pretty well once you gave him a chance and kept an open mind. He was frustratingly smooth most of the time but he was also sweet and made you laugh.

- And he was on cloud nine; especially when you absentmindedly grabbed his hand while leading him somewhere or walking through a crowd. He enjoyed your company so much that trying to kiss you completely slipped his mind until after you were already back inside your house later that night.

- You share your first kiss after he walks you home from school one day; maybe after the two of you go on a few more dates. You’re standing at your front door and you’re trying to say goodbye when you sort of just look at each other and begin to lean in.

- After a minute or so, you pull away and when you do, you invite him in for a drink; an offer he eagerly takes. So he comes in, you get him his drink and the two of you spend the next half hour making out on your bed; but that’s besides the point.

- You kissed him and now you’re gonna see if you’ll regret it.

- There’s a lot of Pda in your relationship but a good amount of it is sexually charged or the sort of affection that fits his cool guy attitude. He’s proud of you and wants to be touching you at all times but he doesn’t want to look like a wuss while he does it.

- He puts his arm around your shoulders a lot. He’d probably try to do it even before the two of you started dating so it barely even phases you at this point.

- Neck and jaw kisses.

- Soft, sometimes sort of clumsy kisses. Mike acts like a ladies man but he’s been with very few girls so he doesn’t have a whole lot of kissing experience under his belt.

- You definitely have the capability to make him drunk with your kisses. You put him in a daze and get him wrapped around your little finger the minute your lips touch his.

- Making out a lot. It’s pretty much his favorite thing to do; though he secretly really likes all your innocent and doting affection.

- Sitting in his lap.

- He doesn’t use a ton of pet names but he does throw a couple of them at you from time to time, namely babe, sweetheart or princess.

- He likes to pretend that he doesn’t care for cuddling but he isn’t convincing anybody with his halfhearted complaining and nonexistent resistance while you pull him in. When you do cuddle, you’ll usually lay facing each other with your head tucked under his chin; or occasionally with his tucked under yours.

- He’s definitely a lot sweeter and softer with you when the two of you are alone together. He feels the need to keep up a reputation while you’re out in public so you only get to see his real, loving personality when you’re by yourselves.

- Su casa es mi casa. After his first visit to your home, you might as well consider him a roommate because he sure as shit acts like it’s his house.

- He’s usually too shy or embarrassed to tell you that he legitimately missed you and just wanted to see you so whenever he drops by, he’ll make up some excuse for him to be there; even though it would be perfectly in his right to answer “what are you doing here” with “I just wanted to see you”.

- He knows how to appear cool; whether it’s a conscious effort for him or not, so he usually has little trouble when trying to impress you. Either way, you’re pretty proud to have him for a boyfriend and your praise consistently makes him wanna to act up.

- He definitely tries to act like people he think you’d find impressive are his friends; even though you probably already know he’s bullshitting you. You just halfheartedly let him believe he’s fooled you.

- Sitting around sorta bored while he tries to swindle people. You get interrupted by his business quite a lot.

- Getting walked home from school.

- If you’ve got a car then you’ll usually pick him up and drive him to or from school; or wherever else, because fun fact: that wasn’t his car that Linda spray painted, it was his moms!

- He has a habit of “fixing you”. He’s always plucking things from your hair or clothes, adjusting your shirt, smoothing out your jacket, etc. Sometimes he pretends like he’s doing something just to annoy you or have an excuse to touch you.

- Consistently looking at your ass.

- Whenever you ask him for a favor, he’ll always tell you that you owe him before begrudgingly doing whatever it is. That being said, after he does it, he’ll usually “forget” that you owe him or tell you to forget about it; or settle for a kiss as payment.

- No ones allowed to know but he’s legitimately whipped for you. It might not seem like it but behind the scenes, he’s bending over backwards to make sure that you’re happy.

- Mall dates. It’s your #1 hangout spot. He’s the boyfriend who shamefully holds your hand as you drag him from one girly shop to the next.

- Concert dates.

- Renting vhs tapes and watching them together.

- Mike has a full on bar area in his room so if you’re down to drink, he has the liquor. Although, to be honest, I think he’d secretly be one of those guys who wouldn’t let you get drunk because you’re his girlfriend and he cares about you. He’d teasingly refuse to give you any before allowing you to have a tiny glass.

- I feel like his parents aren’t home a lot during weekdays; because of work or what have you, so you’ll probably hang out more at his house than yours; unless your parents also usually aren’t home.

- He usually ends up eating dinner by himself and spending most days at home alone so he’ll oftentimes call you up and have you come over. You mostly just end up hanging out and eating in his bedroom while watching television together.

- He lowkey likes stupid old tv shows so the two of you marathon them whenever they’re on tv.

- Going to his house to listen to your favorite music because it’s the 80s and he’s got a whole fucking music station set up in his room. He’s also got more albums than anyone you know.

- Occasionally, he’ll fiddle around with his keyboard while you’re at his place and you’ll convince him to teach you a few little jingles while he’s at it.

- I think that every now and again he’d surprise you with a little gift, oftentimes nonchalantly telling you not to mention it or not to worry about it. He’d probably say something like “how did that get there” and teasingly pretending like it wasn’t him, secretly reveling in the smile on your face and the way you kiss his cheek.

- Him stealing your food.

- Trying to hold back your laughter as he jokingly serenades you.

- Stealing and wearing his sunglasses.

- Ratner third wheeling. The boy gets to see a whole new side of his friend; a side that makes him seem much more down to earth, because even though Mike will pretend like he’s the same playboy, it’s easy to see that he really loves you.

- Giving Ratner advice when he needs a different approach to girls or anything else in life.

- Motivational talks. He might not be the most eloquent but he’s definitely the most supportive when it comes to people he cares about.

- Lots of teasing. It’s his favorite thing to do besides make money.

- He loves messing with you so expect to be annoyed with him quite a lot: whether it be because he threw you in the pool, shocked you, or pretended like you had something on you.

- Defending him when people insult him. Quite a few people don’t understand why you’re with him so expect a few comments from your friends, family, or just random people you know.

- He tries to act nonchalant whenever he’s jealous but it rarely ever works. He usually ends up either having a smug look on his face; because he knows you have no interest in them, or he’ll try to get information out of you about them, maybe making fun of them a little while he’s at it.

- Mike isn’t incredibly protective, he’ll usually leave you to solve things on your own, but if the problem is serious enough, he’ll get involved. He’ll try to walk away with you, maybe say something snide to the other person or about the situation, but he isn’t scared to throw hands if need be.

- Mike is pretty good at keeping his composure but certain situations just make him lose it so sometimes he’ll say something he doesn’t mean in the heat of the moment and regret it later.

- He tends to avoid his problems rather than try and fix them which might lead to him avoiding you after a fight. That being said, he isn’t above apologizing and will always do so is he knows he did something wrong or made you upset.

- He’s a bit embarrassed to tell you that he loves you so he’ll usually only say it after you say it to him.

- Mike certainly isn’t the best boyfriend, he definitely has some maturing to do, so it’s up to you to decide if you want to stick around and wait for it to happen. Just know that he likes you a lot; even if he doesn’t always act the greatest.

#mike damone imagine #mike damone imagines #mike damone headcanons #mike damone headcanon #fast times at ridgemont high imagines #fast times at ridgemont high headcanons #fast times at ridgemont high headcanon #fast times at ridgemont high imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanon

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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1) Hi! It’s a strange question, I know, but I’m curious: how much do you take what happens behind the scenes into account in your analysis of a character or a storyline? To make an example, the push and pull of Dick’s filial status in the narrative is a consistent and frustrating thread in the comics, but has probably roots in the fact that Dick’s arrangement made sense in the 40s in a way that it didn’t anymore by the 80s.

Its a good question, without a good answer. Best I can say is it varies and I kinda take things on a case by case basis. Sometimes behind the scenes stuff doesn’t really change much about what’s on the page one way or another, and sometimes its extremely relevant.

For instance, your example of Dick’s status as ward vs adopted...I think its very much something where real world context and factors have a ton to do with it. I’d definitely agree that Dick as Bruce’s ward made total sense in the writers’ eyes and didn’t need changing or addressing until the 80s, which culturally is when adoption and blended families became a lot more....it feels weird to say mainstream in regards to that, but it kinda fits because the concept as a whole became more popularized and normalized and likely to have a presence in media in the 80s in ways it never really had before.

Personally, I don’t think there’s really any issue with Dick not being adopted before then, and think it has more to do with the zeitgeist of those times rather than in character choices about Bruce not wanting to adopt Dick for whatever reason. So my own approach to this particular matter is for me, it only became an issue when an additional variable was added...Jason and his adoption....as especially once Dick himself was written asking Bruce why he never adopted him...even though the most relevant answer up until that point was likely just that it had never been a culturally significant issue for their characters to have until now......once writers DID introduce Dick’s own view/question on the matter into the canon, THAT’S when I personally view it was being more of an issue that Bruce waited so long after THAT point before actually adopting Dick.

So for my own take...whether in meta and discussions of canon or my own fic stuff....I don’t really put much emphasis or even focus any real attention on Bruce not adopting Dick before that point in canon stories OR the concurrent position in the timeline....by that I mean, the approximate age I think Dick was when he first asked Bruce about that, eighteen or nineteen. I think there are certainly stories that can be written that involve Bruce adopting Dick or raising the matter for discussion earlier in Dick’s life like when he was fourteen or fifteen....but I don’t personally feel much of an urge to write things with a negative slant towards Bruce not adopting Dick earlier than that because I AM aware that in terms of canon, it wasn’t really an option before that point due to the writers’ own cultural norms informing their character choices.

But once the writing introduced that angle and element...it became fair game in my opinion to question why Bruce would wait so long before acting on Dick’s pretty clearly expressed desire there...and yeah, I think its fair to have a bit of a judgmental eye towards Bruce character wise for still waiting so long when it could have changed so much for the better between them and spared Dick at least a few years of angsting and uncertainty about it.

All that said, when talking about fanfic deviations specifically, I think its entirely fair to consider character choices within the context of the fanfic as much as the original canon. So if a fic is already making significant departures from the canon events of Dick’s early years in order to write the author’s own take on Dick and Bruce’s early relationship....then in THAT context, specifically, regardless of what canon had to say about it and the behind the scenes reasons for that, its still valid IMO for characters or readers to wonder why in light of how much our cultural norms have shifted by now, why a fic about that time but written in the context of the modern day....like, IMO there Bruce doesn’t really have the same justification canon has for him not touching on Dick’s status as ward vs son earlier in Dick’s life.

If that makes sense?

Similarly in terms of recent years and canon, I think a TON of flip flopping and uncertainty in regards to how the Batboys’ relationships to Bruce are described or referenced is because DC or the various writers and editors just don’t like committing to the idea of Bruce Wayne: father of five (or six, depending on how one views Duke’s positioning in the family).

Like, I’ve long had the sense that a lot of the powers that be over at DC just flat out don’t LIKE Dick, Jason, Tim and Cassandra’s legal adopted status and wish none of them had ever happened as they for whatever reason think it takes something away from Bruce’s character or premise and they’d rather Damian be the sole actual son and heir. Hence having not only Damian emphasize the blood son thing but also having the other kids like, when talking to Damian refer to Bruce as YOUR father (which is a little thing that bugs the SHIT out of me, lmao)....as well as being as vague and ambivalent as possible when having Dick, Jason, Tim and Cass reference Bruce to others or address him and put as little focus on them using an actual label for their relationships to him as possible. And its not just New 52 I mean here, I think this was an issue still well before Flashpoint.

I’m almost certain if some of DC’s editors and writers had their way, those other adoptions would never have happened and their official status would just be wards/foster kids/proteges. Which is annoying not just because I’m a fan of the family being a FAMILY, like, purely on a personal fannish level....but also just in terms of narrative....I think its fucking stupid to try and play fast and loose with those relationships when everyone knows damn well that each of those kids being Bruce’s KIDS has nevertheless very much been a thing that happened and exists in most fans’ minds. Like, that’s not a genie you can ever put back in the bottle. There’s no realistic chance of getting readers to just en masse forget that any of those characters were ever officially and legally Bruce’s children at some point. Like, you did that, or at least writers before you did that, just accept it and USE IT instead of pointlessly muddying the waters to obscure relationships most of us view as father/child regardless of what canon has to say about it now.

So for example, in THAT case, I fully believe the confusion about the kids’ various legal status and their view of Bruce and his view of them...like, I honestly believe the ambiguity of that at various times in canon is deliberate. And also, dumb. Thus I don’t feel any need to take canon’s current vagueness into account because I feel there the behind the scenes motivations are extremely relevant...and thus I’m completely content to just ignore them and keep them all as Bruce’s children in legality and heart, via whatever story context makes the most sense for my purposes.

Another example of when I personally feel behind the scenes motivations are hugely relevant and should be kept in perspective...is Jason’s death. Because I’ve read a ton of stories and meta that sometimes victim blames Jason and treats it like his fault he died, sometimes makes it Dick’s fault for not being closer with him and someone Jason feasibly could have turned to instead of going to Ethiopia on his own, and sometimes Bruce’s fault for the division his judgment after the Garzonas case had forged between him and Jason and with that basically driving Jason to go to Ethiopia in the first place.

And like, I personally hate each and every one of those takes because I think its never going to lead anywhere good, upholding Jason himself or either of his immediate family members as being in any way at FAULT for his death and everything he went through after it....but also I don’t like emphasizing narrative or character blame on any or multiple of those characters because IMO it disregards the MOST crucial factor in Jason’s death: editorial mandate.

Like, they held a freaking phone poll for whether he should live or die. Jason’s fate was decided by call-in votes, NOT by ANY character’s actual choices or actions or even lack thereof. There was no way any of those characters could have been written making different choices that avoided Jason dying, because they were deliberately written making choices that smoothed the way to Jason dying because it was going to happen not because it was where the STORY inevitably led, or any of their choices inevitably led there....but because the editors WANTED it led there and to end up where it ultimately ended up.

IMO its pointless to point fingers at character choices when we KNOW for a FACT, like oftentimes we have to guess at writer motivations in order to have an opinion on that variable at all, but this is one of the rare occasions where we inarguably KNOW....it was going to happen one way or another because editorial decreed it had to happen. So I think its pretty pointless even in terms of meta analysis of the story and character motivations to ultimately point a finger at any of the character choices and assign blame for Jason’s death...when there was literally no chance of them ever being written making choices that allowed Jason to avoid dying.

Especially when you consider that literally the only narrative change that even needed to be made to avoid Jason dying, regardless of everything that led up to that point...is simply not having him die in the explosion. Come up with literally any explanation for a last minute save, escape or rescue. Like so many comics have managed so many other times.

Like, there are no rules with fanfic so obviously you can write fic of Jason’s death in any way, and make it the end result of any character choices you want and make it some character’s fault or not according to your own preferences and narrative choices....but in terms of canon events and choices, I think that’s one of the very rare stories where its both impossible and pointless to examine it on any level, without taking the behind the scenes context into consideration as well.

So like I said, it really just varies from story to story, depending on how much or how little writer or editor motivation, decisions or bias were likely to be a factor in any given story. *Shrugs* Thus for me, I don’t really see any way to go about that other than taking each story on a case by case basis.

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stevethehairington · 5 years ago

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It’s not just that he didn’t say “say two words on camera” he also refused to take a picture with someone who had a pride flag, despite the fact that they paid hundreds of dollars to take a picture with him

first of all, i didn’t hear about this one

second of all, i mean, look. i stand by my original view that celebrities aren’t entitled to their fans, they don’t owe them shit, they can and will and should say no if they don’t want to do something a fan asks them to do. does that mean we’re going to agree with their decision? no! celebrities aren’t perfect and sometimes they say and do things that aren’t always the best or don’t always fit our “perfect picture” of them, which oftentimes, leads to fans getting like super upset, which is a little bit worrisome because, really, we shouldn’t be holding celebrities such a high set of standards that when they mess up, when they make a mistake, when they act human, we think its the end of the world. and because of this, when fans that have “bad” experiences with celebrities report out these bad experiences, a lot of times they exaggerate and make it seem a whole lot worse than it is.

also, i would just like to add that out of all the like stories of fans getting to meet james, my own experiences included, he’s been nothing but a complete sweetheart to everyone. like are we really going to let like one or two “bad” experiences (that, honestly, seem off base to me bc like. the video one those people were clearly harassing him with that. like. they were.) dictate how we see a person? and are we really going to “cancel” him over one or two not so great experiences? i mean come on people. that’s kind of ridiculous if you ask me.

i got a little off track there, so back to your original concern in your ask. like i said, i havent heard about this one, so i dont know the details of it. but. a couple things: first of all. idk how much photo op tickets were but based off the prices for entrance to the con (which were similar to the con i met him at) im going to assume that the photo op prices were similar to what i paid for mine. that being said they probably did not pay hundreds to meet him. regardless though, no matter how much you pay that’s shitty if they straight up dont take a photo with you. but im guessing thats not what happened. they probably got a photo regardless but it wasnt the photo they wanted so theyre butthurt over that. which. whatever. at the con i was at while i was waiting in line for my photo op the security guard there literally told us that the celebrities we’re meeting have every right to say no to whatever poses we want to do with them.

also we don’t know why he said no to that. there’s a lot of different reasons why he could have said no and i think way too many people are quick to jump straight to homophobia as the answer and like. sorry to say this but that isnt always the answer? like ik thats sort of controversial to say, but as a bi woman myself i feel secure in saying that just bc someone doesnt want to do something lgbt influenced doesnt mean its because theyre a homophobe okay? and like i said, i dont personally know pj, but from what ive heard him say in interviews and panels and articles and stuff, he really doesnt seem homophobic. he’s had a lot of actually really thoughtful things to say about the lgbt community so. yeah. that’s just my opinion though.

i’d also like to point out, we werent there so we’re literally just taking the word of someone who was influenced by emotion when they posted about this so like. idk. emotion definitely does a lot to color an experience. and it can lead to people jumping to some pretty out there conclusion sometimes.

TLDR: i’m not going to let one or two “bad” stories in a sea of good ones (my own experience included) influence how i think of someone who is a human being that doesnt owe anyone anything. cancel culture is fucked and i’m sick of hearing about celebrities getting cancelled for stupid ass bullshit like this, especially when we only hear one (1) side of the story, which is almost always exclusively the so-called wronged fan’s side. we can only truly fully explain our own actions and trying to explain why someone else did or said something usually just leads to misattributions which can be very harmful.

and i’m genuinely not trying to start an argument with anyone about this so if you don’t agree with me great. good for you. that’s fine. please keep that to yourself and don’t try to argue with me.

#asks #anonymous #james ransone #not looking for arguments here so if you disagree thats fine just dont come onto this post to start anything thanks #fuck cancel culture!

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butchwherewolf · 5 years ago

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TELL ME ABOUT YOUR WARCRAFT OCS

,KJALHDSFKLJSADF OKAY! there’s a few of them but i’ll just like, talk about the few i’ve solidly like composed some ideas and concepts for. I’ve put it all below this like, read me because it’s kindaaaa long.

The first is my horde boy, Xanasthor, he’s a blood elf death knight so technically just horde by extension. True to like DK lore, he doesn’t remember his past nor does he want to. He’s a dumbass who like, just kinda fell into following Arthas after being raised from the dead(as, again, all DK’s do in the beginnning) but after being betrayed by the LK, he was just like ‘uhhhh what the fuck’ and fell back into joining the horde. Howsoever, he does not align with the horde as a whole, he regards Sylvanas with the highest regard both as warchief(also due to her being the key factor in allowing DK into the horde), and as a former blood elf. It’s easy to jump to a certain type of kinship when you’re both the same race, both were killed and essentially brought back to serve one little blonde bitch in undeath and then go absolutely feral when you break free of his control. So, yeah, he’s loyal to her, regardless of what she’s done in BFA and whatnot, and if it comes down to it, he’d follow her over the horde. In addition to all that, he’s just like, always comes off as laid back and, honestly, a bit stupid, but it’s more of just not feeling like whoever he’s talking to is actually worth his full attention and regard. He sees no reason in giving some joe schmoe his actual attention when he himself knows he’s leagues above. Other than that, I haven’t precisely nailed down his lore, moreso because I don’t know where I would want to take him as a character yknow? but that’s p much it for that clown

My other horde boy is a new one, a Forsaken warlock, i’ve barely started with him, as well as a rouge orc. They’re kinda just new character’s i’m feeling around for to just see where i wanna take them. I love the horde only for like, pure nostalgia reasons because i enjoyed playing them in Warcraft 3, but otherwise I surprisingly don’t have like, a lot of horde characters atm?? which leads into the next group of clowns.

First up is my utter chad, Kayssanth, she’s a night elf warrior. She takes no shit, she’s seen some shit, she’s ready to beat some shit. Her lore is kinda tangled with a character I’ll get to later, but for now, I’ll talk about her. She’s kinda just a no nonsense woman, she does not back down from challenges, and she supports the night elves with her entire being. But, she does see where that overwhelming rage and thirst for revenge drives people mad, and while she wants to support the quest for revenge against the horde(cause of the BFA stuff), she can’t bring herself to do such. There’s been a lot of things she’s seen in her life, and going through them, while it definitely hardened her, made her almost hunger for just a quiet fucking life for once. She had to witness her love being killed, then come back in a form that’s familiar yet not, she has to watch this war rage through the world and see so many people die, and after awhile, that shit gets old, so she’s supporting the Alliance if they’re looking for peace, because that’s just what she wants and needs at this point, yknow? Otherwise, she has a good bit of humor, and in the moments when she doesn’t have to be taken seriously, she enjoys lounging around, having fun with comrades in inns/taverns, letting go of pretenses and just relaxing before needing to be serious again. She enjoys studying botany, as much as that sounds on par for her race, but she has a knack for it. She also enjoys being able to bench press her bf as a way to show off to people(moreso just for joking and breaking tensions when people initially see her bf). Again, that’s really all I have atm for her, and i always do want to like, write more, but, yknow, havent actually written anything yet lmao.

Next, we got my best girl, Aoirenn, a dwarf paladin. She’s an absolute badass but off of the battlefield she’s seen making things like whittled animals, sculptures, tinkering with small bits of metal she can find, etc. so she can ship them to her wife when she’s off questing/fighting for the alliance. She’s rather quiet, aligned with the Alliance because 1)her wife is a human and yknow, that’s important for both of them, and 2) she grew up with a family that was composed of alliance soldiers, so it’s natural for her. However, with recent events, she’s not so sure she wants to follow the Alliance 100%, and would rather just not have an active hand in war anymore. She’s been away from home for far too long and she desperately wants to return to her wife and child in one piece, and is doing anything and everything she can to do just that. She’s a quiet soul, more of a family-focused person, as i’ve said. otherwise, again, same case as above.

Last is my dumbass worgen DK, Wilheras. He’s Kayssanth’s lover. He lived long enough through Gilneas’ shitstorm, became a worgen, and met Kay through the Alliance, the two just happened to be recruited for the same mission/quest/whatever in Darnassus, and their budding friendship grew overtime from being in the same faction and oftentimes the same cities as the other. This then grew into a romance and it was great for them both, especially at a time where there wasn’t such fear of death and destruction as there would be in the years to come. It was easy to escape to Stormwind to stay at an inn together, or have a quiet evening in Darnassus, etc. But the solace and joy would soon crumble when one day, through a horrible fight, Wilheras was killed. And rather brutally at that. While Kay wasn’t present for this, it still hit her hard, and as a result threw herself into her duties more. When the litch king came, Wilheras was one of the few unlucky ones to come back as a DK, with his instincts broken and filled with the will of the litch king himself. He was an entirely other person when raised from the dead, yet a part of him remained deep within, something that continued to fight and conquer his mind when he was finally free of the LK’s command. After being welcomed into the Alliance, the first thing he did was search for Kay, and upon seeing her, in his undead form, was a rather unpleasant reunion. But, with a few words exclaimed in like, shock, the two finally made amends and Kay realized what had happened. It took some time, but their relationship as friends slowly was formed again, and eventually the romance. Wilheras found himself also finding himself going back into fighting for the Alliance, supporting fellow DKs who join who may not have such an easy transition into this new life. He also finds himself trying to create new brews of alcohol using his undeath as a barrier between possibly deadly batches and something that the living can drink. Otherwise, yeah, he’s just a lovestruck dumbass that’s yknow, a huge werewolf boy who supports his gf 100%

um but yeah! those are my characters! i have a few that like, I havent played as much with few characters that i havent mentioned yet, but those are the 4 main people that i play with and know of yknow? anyway yeah! sorry for such a long post!

#please note all of the names were randomly generated when like creating characters #so like it was just what seems like a legit name yknow?#also thank you so much anon this ask means a lot lmao #i love talking about my band of weird idiots #wow oc #parker prattles #Anonymous

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