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#and being aware I’m being batshit really doesn’t make it better actually I think it makes it worse

a-strange-inkling · 7 months

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If it were up to you ( one of the best hellcheer fanfiction writer) what would you fix or change about the fight of Icarus?

Aw shux, that’s high praise! I really don’t think I’m worthy of that, but thank you 🤍

Oh God… what a laundry list 😆 read at your own risk below (I think I’ve finally run out of things to say about this book and will be moving on now 😅)

I’m going to be honest, the best way fo fix it would be to not write a book. Point blank. If I was involved with the show at all I would have NEVER written a book about Eddie in any official capacity. I don’t know if the author was aware of just how unhinged certain parts of his fanbase are (I’m sure she is now) but you’re not going to make anyone happy with this. Eddie’s ridiculously popular yes, I get it, but part of his appeal for people was how untouched his background was.

Flight of Icarus is kind of a mess plot wise with pretty weak/poor characterizations. There’s some good elements and scenes in it. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either. It’s pretty mid. I mean books based on tv shows aren’t exactly known for their… luster. It’s obviously going to lack the passion of an unpaid fanfic writer who has spent endless hours watching season 4 and doing in-depth research and analysis for their work… but that’s what we’re all used to. That’s our standard. So it’s kind of already set up for failure.

But, if I was in charge of a book like this, here’s some of the things I would do differently:

I’d have picked ONE main plot to focus on because there is way too much going on in these 280 pages for me to have the time to be invested or care about anything. There’s like three plus storylines going on with Eddie all to push ONE narrative which is basically him choosing between risking everything for a fantasy/dream of fame and money or staying true to himself and what’s real which is the steadfast loyalty of his friends and family. This takes the form of Al vs Wayne, Paige vs Ronnie, LA vs Hawkins, solo career vs band/hellfire, dropping out to try to become a rockstar vs being the first Munson to graduate, who Eddie wants to be vs who he truly is deep down.

It’s just too much.

I’d have taken a little more time making Eddie three dimensional. I know he’s a side character, but a lot of heart and thought went into creating him (at least on Joe’s end). I’d have made more conscious choices for his character, especially if he’s narrating in first person (I would have not used first person). His outer dialog is great (the dialog throughout the whole thing is actually really great, you can tell the author’s a screen writer and it’s one of the stronger elements to the book) but his inner monologue is pretty ooc and at times really off. He lacks a lot of the things that drew people to him in the first place or it’s just not as strongly presented I guess. He doesn’t feel fully formed.

If I was going to give Eddie a love interest (I don’t know why you would do that to yourself at this point, his fanbase is volatile at best and either ships him with Steve, Chrissy, or themselves, no one is going to like it) I’d have given her WAY better writing than an immersive wattpad character with little to no character traits outside of her aesthetic and interests which is an alternative style and liking music. Wow. Groundbreaking. I would have her make decisions based on a fully formed personality verses the convenience of the plot. And if not, if she’s going to be a means to an end, I’d at least go all in and make her wild or evil or a total bitch or conniving or funny or grumpy or goofy or something. She’s not given enough focus or time to be well rounded so I’d just have fun and go batshit crazy with her (don’t worry Paige, you’re mine now and I will give you an actual character and vindication).

Eddie choosing between his dad and Wayne would have probably been the plot I picked to focus on and I would have really dived into that. The good, bad and the ugly of the Munson family. Because Al (that would not be his name btw 🤢) and Wayne reflect the two sides of Eddie’s character. A charming, self serving, cowardly asshole and a good, strong and kind person who protects and looks after others. I like Ronnie a lot and she’s probably the best written character in the book, but Wayne needed to have more spotlight for this.

I’d have definitely made the plot a lot less fantastical and way more of a simple character study. Just Eddie deciding between embracing the infamy of the Munson family or choosing to rise above it. Does he decide to scheme and cheat like his dad to get more out of life or does he do the right thing and stay the course to actually graduate and make something of himself. That’s it. All that’s needed. Eddie getting a shot at being a rockstar at eighteen in Hawkins is already kind of odd, especially when his in is a twenty year old “junior scout”??? Who just happens to be at his dive bar and have the hots for him and fucks him and pretty much offers him a life in LA on a silver platter with no issues other than having to bail on his band and high school club?? It’s… a bit much for our unlucky loser boy we see in the show. Book Eddie is as lucky as they come, but he’s a total dumbass and decides to trust and scheme with his deadbeat father??? Who has always failed him? Why? I get he needs money but his kinda girlfriend’s got a job and he’s pretty much got a record deal. What even is this? That whole storyline would be scrapped to hell. But hey, at least it’s more believable than an actual drug heist and a kingpin and a shoot out. Oh and arson. It’s giving… *shivers* Riverdale and not in a good way.

Lastly, I’d have taken the opportunity to develop characters from the show a little more. Not a ton, but like the author did with Higgins. I really like how he was written in the novel. He had a lot of fire and personality out of nowhere which was kind of hilarious. I probably would have expanded Jason the most actually, I’d have added more to that tense rivalry. And I’d have left Chrissy pretty much out of it. The talent show is best left to the imagination and we already have a delicate narrative between them because of the forest scene. I wouldn’t want to add too much there. But she’d have a cameo for sure. Like brief eye contact or a shared smile or something at the very end of the book. Just a little glimmer of what’s to come. I’m also a Eddie has always had a little bit of a thing for Chrissy truther, so in my bias I might have him quietly admire her from afar or something.

And there you go.

I mean you’re going to get my version of his backstory eventually anyway and bonus he and Chrissy live, get married and have kids. Yay!

#flight of icarus #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #eddie book

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gay-otlc · 2 years

Text

Empty Space

Oh? What's that? You were having a good day? Not anymore. Have some post-Flashback solreef family angst :D

Content warning for kidnapping, grief, cursing, can't really think of anything else?

Word count: 1497

Read on AO3 (if the link doesn't work this time I will commit a felony)

Linh is crying, and Wylie is aware that he should comfort her, but he doesn’t. Just sits there, perfectly still. Too stunned to move. Something’s not registering in his head, the words Tam and kidnapped are too incompatible. They absolutely can’t go in the same sentence, but they were definitely together when Sophie calmed down enough to explain what happened. And he knows that his life has been batshit, especially since Sophie came into it, but this… this is too much. Marella walks over and puts an arm around Linh, and Linh sinks into her girlfriend’s embrace like she'll die if she lets go. She whispers meaningless comforting words, well aware of how little they help.

Wylie's aware he should join in on the hug. He's too busy being numb to play the role of a caring older brother.

Maybe if he was better that this “brother” thing, he could have protected Tam.

In the distance, the Vackers are yelling at one another about Alvar. He can’t bring himself to care. The other three continue their argument as Biana storms over to Wylie, tears on aer cheeks, and sinks down next to him.

“This sucks,” ae mutters, picking up a twig from the ground and breaking it in half. Ae throws the pieces as far as they can go. Is ae angry? Ae doesn't even know right now. Ae just wants it to stop.

”This sucks,” Wylie agrees, and his voice sounds hollow. It’s the first time he’s spoken since he got the news.

Biana pulls out a fistful of grass. As ae shreds it, ae says “I’m sorry about Tam.” That's something ae hasn't even gotten around to grieving yet. After Alvar? It's just too much, so ae shoves it far away to deal with later. Ae'll miss Tam, though, the quiet boy who cared so much even if he isn't always the best at showing it. Even so, ae could tell he loved Wylie, and Wylie loved him, and- ae's sorry, that's all ae can say.

Wylie's surprised to hear himself say ”I’m sorry about Alvar.” It feels strange, offering condolences to a Vacker. Yesterday, he might have laughed at the thought. But right now? Ae isn't Alden Vacker's daughter, and he isn't Prentice Endal's son. Ae's just someone grieving aer brother and he's someone grieving his.

They sit there for... neither of them really knows how long, it could be two minutes or two hours, when Marella walks over, half carrying Linh. "Is it okay if she comes over to my house?" Linh won't leave her, won't risk losing another person.

Is it okay, what a stupid question. Nothing's okay. But Wylie nods.

"Bi, want to come?" Marella asks.

It's better than going back to Everglen, joining the rest of aer probably-still-fighting family, so ae nods and lets Marella pull aer to aer feet. Wylie watches them leap away before the thought crosses his mind that his dads must be worried and he can't just sit on the grass forever.

When he walks back into Solreef, Tiergan’s face lights up. Xe'd been trying to keep xyr mind off of the fact that xyr kids might be in danger, and utterly failing. Relief washes over him. "You're okay," xe says, and Wylie realizes that xe doesn't know. Of course he doesn’t, but until now, it hadn’t quite hit Wylie that he would have to tell his dads what happened to Tam. Tell them that he's not okay, that Tam is gone and of course it's not okay. But he's silent as Tiergan shakes Prentice, asleep on xem. “Wake up.” Not wanting to wake up, he holds up a middle finger. Tiergan chuckles. “Wylie’s back, wake up and say hello to your son.”

Prentice actually opens his eyes at that. He smiles and rushes over to hug Wylie. Somehow, the gesture makes him tear up, so he pulls back. “Linh went over to Marella’s house.”

His dads nod, glad for the explanation. “Tam’s with her?” Tiergan asks to confirm. Wylie looks down as he shakes his head, unable to make eye contact.

”Where is Tam?” Prentice asks. Judging by the look on Wylie's face, it can't be good. He reaches out to squeeze Tiergan's hand.

He opens his mouth, but instead of an explanation, a sob slips out. Then another. Then he’s finally crying and Prentice is wrapping him in a hug and Tiergan joins and his dads are here for him but it doesn’t matter because Tam’s not here and his family is still broken. He should probably explain, he knows, but he doesn’t say any of that. Tiergan shoots a panicked glance over Wylie’s head. Prentice, equally unsure as to what the hell is going on, transmits What? Xe only shrugs. Worst case scenarios swirl through his head, panic pulsing through his veins. "Wylie? What happened?" Prentice asks, voice unsteady.

Wylie steps back and takes a deep, shaky breath. Whatever Tiergan was expecting, it was not for him to say "Tam's with the Neverseen. He didn't- didn't have a choice."

Before the words even finish registering, xe laughs. Which is not the reaction he should have, he knows; who hears that their son got kidnapped and reacts by laughing? There's no humor in it, only bitterness, as xe drags xyr hand down xyr face. "Fuck!" He shakes his head as if that can expel the idea of Tam, gone. "This can't- this can’t be happening. Fuck." Weight settles on xyr shoulder, and xe's vaguely aware that it's Prentice's hand, but cannot bring himself to care.

He wraps xem into a hug and tries to say something, anything, but whatever bullshit condolences he was about to give die in his throat. Instead, he echoes Tiergan's sentiment. "Fuck."

"I can't keep doing this," he chokes out, voice muffled into the fabric of his shirt. "I cannot keep losing people!"

"I know, we've- haven't we been through enough already?" Fuck, just when Prentice thought he was about to catch a break. After having your sanity shattered, missing out on over half your son's life, learning said son had a band of murderers after him, who had already murdered your wife... one would think the universe would finally let you be happy with the family you'd cobbled together, but no. What they had, they were a fucking family, and now they had lost a part of it.

When Linh stumbles into Solreef, she half expects Tam to be curled up reading in his usual armchair. Which is stupid, and she knows it's stupid, but that doesn't stop her from hoping for it. Or from flinching when she realizes he's not there. Instead, Wylie is sitting there, knees curled to his chest, and Prentice is perched on the arm of the chair, an arm around his son. Tiergan is glaring at Forkle through his imparter and muttering, but Linh can't bring herself to care what exactly xe's saying. She walks over to Wylie instead, sitting on his other side.

Prentice blinks, only just processing that she's here. "Thank goodness you're safe," he says, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. She nods. It's nice to know he cares, but she's not quite as glad that she's safe. Even though it would also mean being with a group of murderers, she wishes she could be with her brother.

Tiergan is dangerously close to throwing his imparter across the room. "What is the point of being in charge if you're always gonna elect to never fucking do anything!? My son is with the Neverseen and your solution is to 'sit tight and assess the situation.' Any other fantastic advice? Gonna pull an Alden and tell me there's no reason to worry?" Before he can respond to that, xe hangs up.

"I imagine Forkle's being as helpful as ever?" Wylie mumbles, knowing the answer before Tiergan nods.

"Somehow even worse." He rubs xyr eyes. "Linh, I... it's good to have you back."

Unlike Tam. No one says it, but they're all thinking the words.

Eventually, Prentice insists they try to get some sleep, even though he knows full well it will not work for anyone. Linh's bedroom feels so damn empty without Tam. Their whole life, they've never not shared a room. When they moved into Solreef, Tiergan offered to give them separate rooms, but they both declined. And now he's... she doesn't even know where he is, could be on the other side of the fucking world, and Linh is here, and they've never felt further apart. Without Tam snoring, this room is too quiet, and all Linh can hear is her roaring thoughts, worrying what could have happened to him in the mere hours he's been gone, and would could happen the longer it takes to rescue him.

The house that was finally starting to feel like a home, people who were finally starting to feel like a family, now has a gaping hole in it. The empty space is suffocating.

#*laughs maniacally*#listen. i am incapable of writing not angst okay #and really it's shannon's fault for not writing this in canon therefore giving me the opportunity to speculate #and write this fic #sar's writing #prentice endal #wylie endal #tiergan alenefar #linh song

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ongreenergrasses · 2 years

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👿 🤷 🤢 (i bring salt opportunities)

MHMM SINDIRIMBA YOU SURE DO!! 💖✨💜 there is SO much salt in this response

👿 what trope do you hate/avoid at all costs?

BOY OH BOY!!!! an overall overarching one is, bc i am now an adult, i can’t stand high school aus, as they are about children and i don’t want to read that. i absolutely loved them when i was in high school, don’t any more.

a trope i hate that shows up a lot in specifically tog fic is the idea of the (gender neutral) “damsel in distress”. it happens all the time to Certain Characters and it drives me up a Goddamn WALL because in tog fandom it also takes on these racialized components where the white characters get babied and damselfied and the characters of color are in charge of helping them and taking care of them and “fixing” or “rescuing” the white characters and it sometimes just gets. Really weird. i am not being super coherent about this because i am very tired but you all know what i mean.

(also for the record, i have read SO MUCH fic and meta and incredible contributions that doesn’t fall into these traps and i think as a fandom we are really getting better about this. however this fandom is still profoundly racist at times and we also need to recognize that.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ what thing that your fandom loves do you just not get?

i’m gonna pivot here completely for a second and say that i do not like and do not get a common fandom portrayal of Quỳnh post iron maiden where she’s just completely filled with rage, hates everyone especially her family, and is consumed with getting revenge. i do recognize that we do not have a lot of screentime for Quỳnh, which also bums me out, but from what we see of her personality and additionally her qualities that were emphasized onscreen, i just do not see or understand how she could come out of that experience hating Andy and the other members of her family. i think that she’d hate humanity and institutions but to me it does not make sense at all for her to hate her family. they will obviously have a shitton of things to work through and i absolutely believe that Quỳnh would be furious with her family, but i absolutely don’t believe she’d hate them. i do not like that comics storyline and i won’t like it if they follow it in 2 old 2 guard either. (this is a personal preference and not an overarching problem btw just to make that clear)

in that vein i also don’t really like iron maiden aus. there is one by my beloved @anosrepasi called Lingua Franca that i highly, highly recommend, but that is the only one I have ever really read with complete enjoyment because it is amazing writing, very creative, and truly (i think) a category of its own.

the reason that i generally do not like these aus is that overall, iron maiden aus constantly fall into this trap where Andy is absolutely demonized for her reaction to the situation and the aus take on this tone of how the other characters would react so much “better” by “not giving up searching” and UGH that drives me into absolutely batshit pissed off territory. (also i will say that there are great fics that deal with this trope and i am aware of that, this again is personal preference)

🤢 who is your notp?

i actually don’t have a specific one. what i DO have is any time people use any of the fully fledged incredible characters we have as background music/props for an OTP the author finds better, that is a big no from me. notp is sidelining characters for a ship 😬😬 let’s not do that besties

edit: WAIT I THOUGHT OF ONE i don’t like booker/joe/nicky at ALL that is an actual notp.

reader asks

#WHEW!#ask and you shall receive #sindirimba #i am having a GREAT time with these holy shit keep them coming #the old guard

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chaosprince-apollo · 3 years

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I find it poetic that in some ways Iroh's greatest defeat is ultimately his greatest triumph.

Like I'm not talking directly obviously. We know he was considered to be a great general and after his defeat he was ridiculed and broken because of the death of his son, he had no real place in his own nation due to his failure and outside of his nation he is a war criminal which he is undeniably aware of and he regrets because he knows he wasn't the good guy and his son died in vain. He may act like a buffoon at times but we know and the people in the avatar kingdoms know he is extremely capable and an expert stratergiest (a testament to this fact is people are wary of him and he STILL manages the convince them he's harmless even when the KNOW he's a dangerous man.)

Now to get to my point about why it becomes a triumph. Simple. It's his big turning point or his first big turning point. This failure and subsequent ridicule breaks him away from the expectation of being a great general. Breaks him away from being a model of what a fire nation soldier should be. Iroh is shown to always be a caring father and I truly believe he knew he was doing wrong but that he also loved his nation and the firelord (his brother) and wanted to bring glory/honour not just for himself but for his son. Failing at Ba Sing Se was a blow sure but if he'd succeeded a) more people than had already died would have and being enslaved by the fire nation. b) he'd have never become the man who became one of the cities protectors c) he'd possibly not have been the one to be with Zuko during exile and d) certainly wouldn't have been someone helping protect the Avatar.

Now I say this is one of his turning points because it's also extremely obvious his relationship with Zuko is his other important factor as to WHY Iroh is such a nuanced and well fleshed out character. There's no way Iroh WOULDN'T love Zuko, but his failure and death of his son drives Iroh not only to adopt Zuko as his own but also to understand that Zuko's mission is wrong and is the road to ruin.

Iroh has first hand knowledge what being on the wrong side gets you. He's also one of the only people around Zuko that acknowledges he is literally a 13 year old child (when exiled, 16 during the show) the gaang also make acknowledgement of this but considering they themselves are like 12-15 approximately this acknowledgement doesn't have the same impact as GROWN ASS ADULTS thinking it's okay for the firelord (a powerful force) to fight agni kai against a 13 year old and then exile him for having....an opinion? Like honestly do these people actually know what the agni kai was about and just accept that or are they told Zuko did something terrible...which like even so pretty poor form here y'all (anyway I digress clearly from my point but I have FEELINGS and probably there are other people with in the fire nation that have enough empathy and critical thinking to know that what happened to Zuko was wrong but my point remains) Uncle Iroh is one of if not the only ADULT character that seems to actually be shown as thinking Zuko is a child with feelings instead of that he's dishonoured his family or that he's evil.

(Side note, I know he calls Azula crazy but I also don't think he thinks she's actually evil either but he has no way to help her and even if he tried there's no way in her current mind set she'd ever listen. She wants to be strong and powerful and whilst she's incredibly smart she can't tell she's being manipulated because she's only ever gotten by on manipulation herself and being rewarded for that so it's difficult for her to see her father doing it to her. It's really enforced into her that her brother is weak and worthless because he doesn't have it in him to be like her. In her mind Iroh isn't just a failure as a soldier, he's a failure because he stood by Zuko. Why would she listen to someone so weak and stupid.)

So in conclusion after several tangents. Iroh's failure to take Ba Sing Se ultimately leads to his role in it's liberation and the defeat of the fire nation under firelord Ozai. His defeat helps put him on the side of the people and the avatar and gives him chances to make amends for his true failures (besieging the city in the first place leading to deaths including his own son and the failure to bring a stop to his younger brother's ambition and cruelty)

Another tangent fuck sorry, it's being a little while since I've watched and I'm thinking of things as I type and I am totally aware I might be missing stuff or misremembering things or that maybe I just have a different interpretation of certain events or characterisations. ANYWAY Iroh as the older brother was the one in line for the throne and Ozai tried to convince Azulon that Iroh was weak using Ba Sing Se as the reason (Azulon's reaction to this is entirely unfair, and it's hard to feel empathy for his fate at the time of his death even if, like other people of fire nation royalty, he has potential not to be a FUCKING COLOSSAL WANKER.) [Also a pause here to say there's a solid 11 to 12 hours between my thoughts here cause my friend called for me to pick her up from somewhere cause she finished waaaaay earlier than we were expecting so coherency who knows her lol]

I think the point I was making essentially comes down to Iroh's defeat leads Ozai to confront/try to reason with Azulon that Ozai would make a better firelord than Iroh (whether Ozai was wrong or right is a matter of perception ultimately) Azulon didn't like this and demanded Ozai kill Zuko, which I actually don't remember clearly but I looked at the wiki to jog my memory and it says that's what happened. Which was my point earlier about being a wanker, and sure maybe it was actually going to be some kind of test a la abraham and isaac etc but of course he got murked and also like firelords tend to have this follow through of becoming batshit at some point. Or at least the last few the precede our boy Zuko certainly have questionable levels of empathy for anyone outside of their immediate family and even then ... anyway who remembers Zuko's scar? Anyone, anyone at all. Yeah....

So Iroh defeat = Ozai trying to usurp the throne = Azulon's piece of shit death to Zuko demand = Azulon gets murdered, sorry assassinated = Ozai usurping the throne anyway (although I'm not sure Iroh really fought him on that at all? Someone please clarify) = Ozai being firelord when Zuko spoke up = the whole agni kai business = Zuko having his face burnt by his own father and told he's weak and is given a frankly impossible task = Iroh watching on and feeling shame, disgust, guilt, and honestly I ultimately think he felt fear for Zuko and fear of having to acknowledge more than ever before that his younger brother and even the nation he loves are on the wrong path and that power isn't worth the amount of pain and suffering caused, like I'm sure previous to this he knew, he had to have known because we know how incredibly intelligent Iroh is, and we also know he is part of white lotus (which again someone might have to tell me a timeline on that because the white lotus thing seems to have being going on a while so was he white lotus during the ba sing se seige? The first one I mean? OH THOUGHTS BUT I'LL COME BACK = Iroh and Zuko's pirate adventures uh, I mean Zuko tries to capture the avatar and Iroh drinks tea = Iroh having to watch Zuko struggle at an impossible task to regain honour he never actually lost = Iroh being a scheming old man to achieve the goal of giving Zuko a loving father = Iroh going on the journey with Zuko to befriend the gaang = Iroh participating with other white lotus members to liberate ba sing se = leading to help the downfall of an oppressive regime = Zuko taking the throne in a state of empathy and acceptance.

Like let's be real. Even though Iroh probably would have made a formidable firelord he possibly wouldn't have become the Iroh we know even though that man would have been in there and whilst he'd have remained a role model to Zuko it may not have had the same impact as the journey they DO share.

Okay I know I had more thoughts regarding white lotus things but this is so long and it's midnight and exactly 0 people will read this

Anyway I love Iroh thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

(Any mistakes are because my brain just dumped a bunch of thoughts and proofread absolutely nothing)

#uncle iroh #prince iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #fire nation #fire lord #fire lord azulon #fire lord ozai #agni kai #white lotus #ba sing se

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law-of-excluded-middle · 3 years

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we have to stop meeting like this - part four (of four)

I wrote (part of) a fic for the Witcher Bog (@thewitcherbog) Discord server's July fic train event! I'm really grateful to the Bog for this opportunity to ease gently into writing fanfic, since this is really new for me :')

I was the caboose of the fic train, so if you've been following along, I hope you enjoy how it ends! And thanks for reading!

–

Ship: Lambden

Rating: T

Summary: Lambert, an angry apartment-dweller, deals with an uninvited guest. Repeatedly.

Written for @thewitcherbog train event with @all-hail-the-witcher, @king-finnigan and @jaskierswolf

Words: 5k (part four: 1.5k)

Part one, two, three, four (this one!) - AO3

Aiden, apparently, did a little bit of everything.

“Mostly gig stuff. Food delivery, grocery shopping, odd jobs... I build people’s flatpack furniture for them,” he rattled off. “Cat-sitting,” he added when Bastard, who had just come back inside through the open window, slinked over to him and bumped her head against his shoulder.

Aiden looked at the cat with such tender adoration in his eyes that it made Lambert feel almost uncomfortably warm, and he had to look away as Aiden continued. “I do some regular work for the community garden downtown, and I’m part of a pottery co-op.”

“Pottery? What, d’ya, like, sell shit on Etsy?” Lambert said between slurps of noodles.

A wry smile played on Aiden’s lips. “No,” he answered. “But I usually put in some hours at the winter craft market, peddling mugs and decorative plates, that sort of thing.” He paused. “As far as seasonal work goes, I imagine it’s a better deal than selling Christmas trees in the Home Depot parking lot,” he said, his smile growing into a teasing grin.

“Whoa,” Lambert said, starting. He felt his pulse race. “How do – how do you know where I work? Have you seriously been stalking me?” For the first time, he felt genuinely apprehensive in the presence of his mysterious guest.

But Aiden just laughed. “You’re joking, right?” Lambert scowled, which made Aiden laugh some more. “Your apron is hanging on the rack by the door. Your bright orange apron.”

Lambert whipped his head toward the door, then jerked it back around, and Aiden let out another peal of laughter. Lambert’s face was so hot he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He clenched his teeth, puffing up to defend himself, or at least to say something cutting and uncharitable, draw the focus away from his own cartoonish overreaction.

But one look at Aiden, leaning back on his hands where they were planted on the floor behind him, his head tossed back, shoulders shaking, and Lambert’s chagrin vanished like smoke before he had a chance to get properly worked up. “Oh, blame me for being suspicious of the guy who keeps breaking into my place,” he grumbled.

Still grinning, Aiden cocked his head. “Haven’t we already been over this? I don’t break in, I have a copy of your key.” His eyes sparkled deviously. “You’ll never guess where I had it made.” He glanced pointedly toward the coat rack once again before meeting Lambert’s gaze, his mouth quirked playfully.

“What, at my Home Depot?” Lambert demanded incredulously. Aiden answered with a toothy smile. “Unbelievable,” Lambert huffed. “How did you – when did you even get your hands on my key to copy it? – No, never mind, I don’t even care. What I’m more interested to know is how the hell this all started.”

Aiden’s eyes widened innocently. “How what all started?” But then he broke into a grin – that mischievous grin that Lambert was too quickly getting used to, and growing fond of – and sighed, apparently settling in for a story. “Let’s see, the first time I was here, that was a few weeks ago, right?”

“Weeks? Weeks?” This was news to Lambert. He had only become aware of Aiden’s drop-ins in the last ten days or so.

“Ah, right, right – you know, I think it was actually three weeks ago to the day! Imagine that,” Aiden continued, smiling beatifically, as if Lambert hadn’t even spoken. “Well... this story does not paint me in the most flattering light, actually…”

“Imagine that,” Lambert echoed dryly. “The story of the first time you broke into my apartment – and that was a break-in, I don’t even want to hear you try to deny it – and you’re telling me you don’t come out looking like the hero?”

“I’m not sure I see what you’re getting at,” Aiden said primly, not looking at Lambert. “Well, the short of it is, I’d gotten into a bit of a disagreement with some gentlemen that evening, and that turned into more of a scrap, which quickly gave way to a brawl. And I decided that the most civilized thing for me to do was to bow out gracefully.”

“So, you ran away,” Lambert said, for clarification.

“Like a bat out of hell,” Aiden confirmed with a smirk that was somehow both arrogant and self-deprecating. Lambert felt warm again. “Look, it wasn’t my finest hour. These guys were big, and I’m pretty agile, but I know when I’m outmatched.”

Aiden paused to hum thoughtfully. “Now, you on the other hand…” he continued. “If it had been you in my place, I imagine you could have taken them.” He smiled a tiny, devious little smile and curled forward, reaching out to wrap a hand around Lambert’s biceps. It flexed in his grip and his smile grew wide. “Yes, I’m quite sure,” he purred.

Lambert felt very warm. “Yeah, I’m. Uh. I, I guess I’m pretty good in a scrap. I, you know, I.” He flexed his arm again. “Move a lotta wood.”

“I bet you do,” Aiden murmured, leaning even further into Lambert’s space and looking up at him through his dense, dark eyelashes.

“Lumber,” Lambert hastened to clarify. “At. Fucking – At Home Depot. You know. Dimensional lumber, and pressure-treated pine, and like six kinds of plywood. OSB. MDF. You name it.” He grimaced.

Aiden was openly delighted at how flustered Lambert was getting, but he seemed to take pity on him. With a parting squeeze, he let go of Lambert’s arm and resumed eating his noodles, the picture of innocence.

“Let’s see – right, so I made my strategic exit and found myself hiding up your fire escape. Saw this little one get in through a half-open window” – he scratched behind the cat’s ears and she rubbed her face against his hand shamelessly – “and I figured I could use a place to lie low for an hour or two, so.” Aiden shrugged. He set his takeout container aside on the coffee table and scooped Bastard into his lap.

“Okay, that doesn’t explain why you kept coming back,” Lambert pointed out.

And there was that condescending smirk again. “Well, this part of the story isn’t so flattering for you,” he said.

Lambert scowled, which probably wasn’t very flattering for him, either.

Aiden sighed, still smiling. “I got such a strong impression of loneliness, just from being in your apartment for a few hours. And I thought you could use a friend. Who doesn’t want to make a new friend?” He looked so sweet and earnest for a moment that Lambert lost his train of thought.

But it came back. “Are you telling me you made a copy of my key so you could keep hanging around my apartment, because you pitied me?” he asked, baffled.

Aiden pouted just a little. “I wouldn’t say pitied, no. But come on, the tower of identical takeout containers” – he gestured pointedly to the one out of which Lambert was still eating – “seemed a bit sad. You needed some novelty in your life!”

Lambert stared at him. Objectively, this was batshit behavior.

And yet, he couldn’t find himself feeling anything but want. It had been so long since Lambert could remember wanting, or wanting anything new, anyway. He didn’t want to fight it.

“You’re definitely novel, I’ll give you that,” Lambert said at last. “So, what now? Because I gotta be honest with you,” he paused, “we really have to stop meeting like this.”

Aiden broke into a toothy grin. “Now? I think I ought to head home,” he said, rolling his shoulders back and stretching languidly. “And tomorrow, I think you should take me out for breakfast.”

“I have work in the morning,” Lambert protested.

“No you don’t,” Aiden replied without missing a beat.

“Damn, it really is a little creepy how well you know my schedule.”

Aiden laughed wickedly as he stood up, and Lambert followed. “I don’t have a car, will you drive? I can meet you here at ten, how’s that?”

“You don’t have a –? Never mind. Yeah, ten’s fine.” He had to wonder how the guy managed to work all these delivery gigs without a car, but they didn’t need to get into it right now; he had a feeling that it would take him some time to figure out how the hell Aiden operated, and he thought, with a fluttery sort of hope, that he would have that time.

Lambert walked Aiden to the door, and Aiden looked up at him coyly.

“I’ll have you know, Lambert, that I’m not one to kiss on the first date,” he said with affected sternness.

Lambert choked a little, startled, his face heating up rapidly. “Uh-huh, well, that’s fine, I won’t be uhh, expecting anything just for buying you breakfast,” he stammered.

Aiden just narrowed his eyes and smirked. “That’s what tonight was for: now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I might be expecting something after you buy me breakfast.” He raised his eyebrows slyly and then slipped out the door, leaving Lambert feeling entirely too warm.

If this all worked out, he thought, they were going to have to come up with a better story about how they met.

#the witcher #witcher fanfic #lambert #aiden #lambden #lamden #laiden #lambert x aiden #lambert/aiden #my writing #personal

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patina-millers-biceps · 4 years

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Tell us how you would redo SMASH tell ussssss

OH HELL YEH Thanks.

OK, SO in my ideal world, Smash runs for 5 seasons. Remember that bc I’ll come back to that later. Overall Tone: I would take it all... and dial it up to 100. Remember Ellis? Now EVERY character is that fucking crazy. It’s like Glee if Glee was self-aware to how batshit crazy it was, and relished it. The problem was that Theresa Rebeck (season 1) knows what NYC theatre is like, tried to be realistic, but also make it relatable to middle America, and that Joshua Safran (season 2) does not but also tried the same things. When really they needed someone who A) knew what NYC theatre was like B) didn’t give a fuck and C) didn’t give a fuck also about if middle America found it relatable. But Sarah! What about viewings? You ask. Well, if YOU’RE the moron who’s going to write about a hyper-specific industry I think you just gotta dive in. Commit. Make everything fucking crazy and completely unrelatable to literally everyone. Riverdale that shit but make it good writing. Ultimately, it’s why season 1 worked better. Because at least my girl Theresa knew how to write drama without resorting to burying her gays. I think she should have taken it up higher though. Like, when Uma Thurman’s character got an allergic reaction? I think Karen and Ivy should have teamed up to poison her. I said what I said. As for the Team Ivy vs. Team Karen? We’re balancing a tricky line here bc it has to be dramatic but also not misogynistic. (that season 1 Ivy character assassination? Bad.) Ideally, these two would go from hating each others GUTS to reluctantly teaming up against movie star Rebecca (Uma Thurman would thus have to appear earlier and stay longer), deciding that they are in love actually like each other, and cheering on their successes and hating on the MEN who force them against each other. (But while we’re on the subject... #TeamIvy). That Out Of The Way: Season 1: The Bombshell Workshop Phase Season 1 would ONLY follow the workshop phases of season 1. Which is most of it. Here we have Ivy and Karen’s strangers to enemies to reluctant teammates to friends to lovers arc. This is the emotional core of the show. Rebecca Uma Thurman has to show up around the midway point. Julia’s adoption arc? Throw it out. Sorry Ms. Rebeck i stan you but it sucks. Focus on her and Tom’s friendship as the secondary emotional standpoint. They’ve worked with with other for years!! That dynamic is awesome!! But they were fighting the whole ass show??? Nah. Pit them against Derek. I would change nothing with Eileen. Oh I also don’t give a shit about Karen’s shitty boyfriend. Season 2: The Bombshell Out of Town Tryout/ Enter Hit List The first half of season two is the out of town tryout with #TeamIvyKaren against #TeamRebecca coming to a head through rehearsals and the first few previews. Like, I’m talking some Phantom of the Opera level fuckery these two are doing. Falling set pieces, costume malfunction, Ivy actually fucking putting the peanuts in her smoothie. It’s seen as OK bc in this version of Smash Rebecca is a terrible person who has no respect for the ~~**~Theatre~~**~~ The creative team still choose Karen as Marilyn (why?) but she doesn’t get good reviews!! This causes Karen to freak out if the theatre life is really right for her when she meets Jimmy and Kyle. Karen jumps ship to Hit List, Ivy rises to her rightful place as Marilyn in Bombshell. Rehearsals begin to reshape the show for Broadway, Hit List lands its Off-Broadway run. Season 3: Broadway Here I Come/ It’s Tony Time Babey!! Bombshell opens on Broadway, Hit List opens Off-Broadway and KYLE DOESN’T FUCKING DIE (He still gets hit by a car, everyone thinks he died at first, but he’s just in a coma for a few episodes wherein he has weird out-of-body experiences.) Hit List transfers to Broadway. BUT WE HAVE SOME DRAMA because Movie Star Rebecca has landed the role of Maggie in a revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof! We have some cross-show hate bt Bombshell/ Hit List/ and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof because they’re all on 45th street. There’s drama bt Julia and Kyle bc of Kyle’s fling with Tom! But will it last? No! Kyle ends up really hitting it off with Wesley Taylor’s ensemble member character when he visits Tom backstage at Bombshell! Eileen threw one too many drink in her ex husbands face and he’s legally blind now also she’s producing Bombshell AND Hit List! I’m fucking crapping that shit with Ana getting booted from Hit List and Derek being a perv. Karen and ivy still really hate Rebecca (??? it’s Smash it doesn’t have to make sense!) so they stage a coup and replace her in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Jennifer Hudson’s character! The Tonys happen! I liked how they worked out in the show, so i’ll keep that. Jimmy still goes to prison! Tom gets back together with Sam! Season 4: That’s How We Keep 8 Shows A Week Fresh Y’all Basically what it sounds like. We go back and forth between Hit List and Bombshell and the absolute CHAOS of backstage on Fake Broadway. There’s a snowstorm that shuts down the city, people hooking up backstage. Derek has an actual redemption arc. Ivy does not get knocked up bc she knows how to use birth control. The Big Story is how bc Eileen is involved with some illegal shit if it’s going to all come crashing down on the unsuspecting actors and writers. Tom and Julia start writing their Great Gatsby Musical. Fictional Lin-Manuel Miranda is there. Jimmy gets out of prison and rejoins the cast. This season takes up about 2 years of time and will be dubbed the weakest one by critics and fans alike. Season 5: Big Finish! Bombshell and Hit List have been running for about 3 years total by now. Eileen’s illegal shit comes out. Bombshell and Hit List have to close! It’s a really long that takes up the whole season. All the camp of the previous seasons is gone now and it actually is really beautiful and sad. Some real “What I Did For Love” shit. At the end, Hit List is able to transfer back Off-Broadway a la Jersey Boys and Avenue Q with a new producer, Bombshell dies but goes out strong and is recorded for PBS and eventual DVD. Ivy now finds out she’s pregnant and also joins the workshop of The Great Gatsby The Musical as Daisy, Ana is Jordan Baker, Sam is Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway is played Nick Jonas’s character who no one has seen since season 1. Derek is the director. Another Op’ning Another Show yall. Karen and Ivy reunite to sing “Big Finish” End of Series. You’re welcome everyone, even though literally only 1 person asked for this.

#smash nbc #andy mientus #jeremy jordan #christian borle #megan hilty #katherine mcphee #leslie odom junior #debra messing #angelica houston #my stuff

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sadselfhelp · 3 years

Text

Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks.

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me.

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing.

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble.

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one.

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me.

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

#trigger warnings #mental health #anxiety #borderline personality disorder #adhd #domestic abuse #child abuse #self harm #violence #just all the trigger warnings

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makeste · 4 years

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I’ve just realised it’s been over a year since you last listed your top 10 characters! Has anything changed since then?

a lot has changed! actually, every single ranking has changed from last time except for one (which you can probably guess, lol).

1. Bakugou (previous rank: 1)

yes, believe it or not, Bakugou is still my favorite. I’ll understand if you all need a moment to recuperate from the shock of this.

2. Deku (previous rank: 4)

hi, so. I really love Deku a lot. I think he is a great character and there’s a lot of subtlety and complexity to him that he doesn’t always get credit for. he is loving and kind, but he’s not a pushover. he has moments of deer-in-headlights anxiety when he’s in the spotlight or talking to celebrities (or girls), but then he’ll go and launch into a five-hour speech if someone mentions a topic he’s interested in. he’s very much aware of the huge burden that’s been placed on his shoulders, and is struggling to figure out how to become his own person (which is fucking hard, you guys; how many sixteen-year-olds do you know who have a solid, firm idea of who they are as a person and what it is about themselves that makes them unique individuals?) while still living up to All Might’s legacy. he’s smart and determined and capable of extraordinary things, but second-guesses himself and has a tendency to overthink everything he does. he is interesting!! and he doesn’t always get credit for being interesting! but he is! anyways Deku ilu.

3. Aizawa (previous rank: 2)

still the best. still so tired. the manga is tripling down lately on highlighting how awesome he is. childhood angst and guilt and trauma?? yes. kicking lots of ass?? hell yes. being outrageously sexy with his floating wavy hair and glowy red eyes and spending almost this entire arc in Eraser Mode while Horikoshi hopes to god no one remembers how he made it a Whole Thing after USJ that Aizawa supposedly couldn’t hold his quirk for long periods like that anymore?? oh, you bet. who is even gonna complain about it. you?? I sure am not. and last but not least, being the greatest dad in the world who’s willing to stab god in the face in order to stay alive to protect his children and continue to watch them grow?? fam. you goddamn know that is a YES WITH CAPITAL LETTERS. how can one character honestly be so great. how can he even contain it. he’s so powerful.

4. Todoroki (previous rank: 5/6)

Ochako slid all the way off my top ten list and I feel so bad about it. but she hasn’t had the spotlight for a long time, and meanwhile Shouto has had what feels like ARC AFTER ARC of being awesome and doing awesome things like becoming Bakugou’s Undisputed Best Friend, having the longest and purest canon romantic relationship in the series (I am of course talking about him/soba), and playing a key role in one of the most beautifully executed family arcs I have ever seen, with his conflicted feelings about his father that are so layered that THEIR LAYERS HAVE LAYERS. and meanwhile his quirk kicks as much ass as ever. remember that one time Shouto almost burned Tetsutetsu alive. remember that other time he fucking annihilated Ending (“GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER”)?! and meanwhile he remains the goodest and purest child in the entire series, making sure Mt. Lady’s heart is okay, and offering his two friends internships without a second’s hesitation because THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS DO. it’s just what they do you guys.

5. Hawks (previous rank: n/a! welcome to the top ten kiddo.)

OH NO I LOVE A MURDERER WHAT A STUNNING INDICTMENT OF ME. send me off to jail. anyway so I have always liked Hawks, but the latest arc has sent him skyrocketing up through the ranks of my heart. not because of the murder thing, but... okay well but actually, it is because of the murder thing though. NOT BECAUSE I’M HAPPY HE KILLED A GUY WE ALL LOVED, jesus, but because of how well Horikoshi portrayed his struggle over it. he didn’t want to do it!! but he ended up having to in the end, and he paid one hell of a heavy price for it. and listen, but if you give me a character who is smart, who is compassionate, and who is one of the most mentally and physically capable characters we’ve seen in the series and yet simultaneously does not have even the slightest ounce of regard or self-preservation for his own mental health? a character who is tired, who is willing to make sacrifices up to and including the ultimate sacrifice for what he believes is the greater good? a character who is achingly alone and isolated in so much of what he has to go through, who doesn’t dare drop his guard ever, who’s not able or willing to share his burdens with anyone else? if you give me a character like that, and then ask me not to love him, it’s like. I am very sorry but I truly have no say in it at this point. he’s adopted. I’m sorry it’s the law.

6. Tomura (previous rank: n/a)

OH NO I LOVE TWO MURDERERS WHAT EVEN IS WRONG WITH ME. hahaha. so in between the time of now and when I last did a character ranking, Tomura had a flashback! and it was very traumatic! he was little and sweet and his dad was a dick and there was a lot of blood and gore and a dog died!! and then AFO was all “HELLO IT’S ME COME TO SWOOP IN AND ADOPT YOU AND ENCOURAGE YOU TO KILL STUFF AND ALSO HERE ARE YOUR DEAD FAMILY’S SEVERED BODY PARTS TO ADORN YOURSELF WITH SO YOU NEVER STOP FEELING MISERABLE.” and everyone sitting there reading was all, “well I’ll just come out and say it, I can sort of understand why he became a murderer now,” and we all agreed that yes, it did indeed make a great deal of sense, when you put it that way. anyway, so obviously you can’t not feel empathy toward the kid after all that, even if he is going around killing A WHOLE LOT MORE people now, and has basically gone batshit insane actually. I remain steadfast in my conviction that Tomura is not the actual final villain -- AFO is. and call me crazy, but in spite of everything, I still think this kid has a shot at redemption. it won’t be pretty, and it’ll be a long, long path, and he might not ever fully make it all the way, but he’s someone who’s been manipulated and used as a puppet his entire life, and I want him to have the chance to finally break free from that. hopefully he’ll get it.

7. Mirko (previous rank: n/a)

so previously this section just said “MIRKO!!!!!”, which I honestly think sums it up pretty well. I honestly can’t think of any other character who has come along and just slapped me straight across the face with their sheer awesomeness as much as her, though. every time she’s onscreen/on the page my face is just a huge grin the entire time. she is fearless. like, she’s the type of person who actually does laugh in the face of danger -- like that’s not just an expression, she will LITERALLY LAUGH. she is Peter Pan with a dagger to his throat, smiling and saying “to die would be an awfully big adventure.” she is someone who’s found her purpose in life and is thriving. Mirko has no time for your existential angst; she’s too busy kicking ass every minute of every hour of every day. I love her so, so much. thank you so much Horikoshi for being obsessed with her and making her the biggest badass in the whole series.

8. All Might (previous rank: 3)

I still adore him! he just has had next to nothing to do for what seems like forever, so the other characters who are still getting steady development are kind of just sneaking past him one by one. but he is still the absolute best. he cares so much. so, so, so, so much. he’s not always the most natural when it comes to being a teacher or a mentor, and he stumbles and makes mistakes, but he loves his kids. he cares about them so fiercely. and that’s far and away the most important thing, and it’s not even close. and he’s also just so endlessly self-sacrificing and constantly putting everyone else before himself, and it’s insane. he’s someone who is just constantly thinking, “how can I do more, how can I help more, what else can I do to try and make the world better” even as he stumbles along with half a lung, and struggles with his feelings of inadequacy and helplessness and feeling like it’s just still not enough. I want to give All Might the biggest hug in the world and tell him that it’s all right, that he did good, that the kids are going to be all right. when Aizawa told him “you being alive is enough” I almost had a breakdown tbh. anyway if I keep going I’m gonna talk myself into moving him back up the list and then I’ll have to rearrange this whole thing lol so suffice it to say, fuck yeah All Might.

9. Momo (previous rank: 7)

when is Momo gonna do more stuff, Horikoshi?? huh??! he does realize that whenever she does stuff it’s always amazing?? so why is she not just constantly doing amazing, awesome stuff all the time?? I don’t know, and frankly I’ve had just about enough of this. let Momo do stuff 2020. but I won’t talk about this anymore for now because I haven’t ready any chapter 278 spoilers and I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

(ETA: I HAVE READ CHAPTER 278 NOW AND ALL I CAN SAY IS YESSSSS!!! MOMO!!!! also I swear to god I genuinely had not seen any spoilers when I was writing this post lol, it was a total coincidence. I’m glad the “let Momo do stuff 2020″ campaign was so immediately successful though.)

10. Kaminari (previous rank: 8)

last but not least, my five-and-a-half-year-old traitor son, Kaminari Denki. he is just such a shining beam of light and life and goodness and chaos. there is this amazingly buoyant energy whenever he’s on the page that just fills me with love for him. I constantly just want to ruffle his hair, just, all the damn time. he is everybody’s friend, he loves them all so much, and he fearlessly calls Bakugou “Kacchan” heedless of the repercussions (OF WHICH THERE WERE NONE!!), and he sincerely tells Jirou that he’s in awe of her musical talents, and he wrecked his fingers learning to play guitar for her but he was happy to do it, and he was afraid to fight in the big ALL THE VILLAINS VS ALL THE HEROES battle because DUH!?! but he still did it anyway because he had to protect his friends. and his quirk and its side effects are constantly used for comic relief and not taken seriously at all (even though it’s actually insanely powerful holy shit), but he doesn’t care because he’s happy to make his friends happy. he’ll willingly be the butt of the joke if it means he gets to see them laugh. he just has such a big heart, and in all seriousness, if you think he’s the traitor I just don’t even know what to say to you.

so that’s it! Tokoyami, Ochako, Shinsou, Iida, and Sero would probably be the next five, with Endeavor, Toga, Mina, Jirou, and Mirio rounding out the top twenty. maybe not in that exact order but it’s close enough. really there are only like three characters in the series I actually truly dislike, so I’m honestly glad “top ten” is the general standard otherwise I’d be here all night running through them all lol.

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years

Text

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

“Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…” your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes. It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

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#moth to flame #bts x reader #bts smut #bts vampire au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #do you see now #do you understand #why it took me so long #none of this was originally in it ok #(hey anon i hope this soothes our relationship. <3 u #sorry again)#FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one #i dont know WHO i was CHANNELING #hand to god it only gets worse i just kEEP GETTING W O R S E #am i retconning hoseok being an asshole #eeeeeeyup lmao do what i wanna shrug #oh oh did you get my reference #w the other vampires #eeyyyyyy im not gonna put them in the tags cos its such a small bit part but eeeeeYYY #i dont actually listen to anyone but BTS im sorry i just wanted smone else to exist in this world that WASNT them ok #ive heard some of their stuff just havnt like #idk i dont follow anyone #i was incredibly into super junior when i started listening to kpop but thats cos i used it to write other smut :)#cos i couldn't understand korean #hey how you doing this is a lot of tags huh #well its been a long day alright #its been a day #ive been writing this chapter for so long i just wanna write my FEELINGS now

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comradekatara · 4 years

Note

Do you have any modern Zukka headcannons? Thanks for your hot awesome takes all the time

i’ve gone over some of these points before, so some of y’all may recognize the continuity of the atlahsaucu (atla highschool au cinematic universe). this is a long one, and it’s *gasps* chronological…

they first meet in junior year art class. sokka resents how well zuko can draw and paint seemingly without any effort whatsoever, meanwhile sokka tries really hard and all his art comes out like disgusting little blobs on the canvas. zuko resents sokka for being cool and hot. how dare he.

one day, they get a bit carried away, and sokka and suki start making out in the middle of the hallway. zuko, whose locker they are directly on top of and who has class at this very moment, is not amused, and he, politely as he can, coughs and request that they move out of the way. sokka merely holds up a finger as to say “one moment please” which enrages zuko (justly, tbh) and he yells, “what the fuck?!”

sokka’s like “man what’s your fucking problem why are you such an asshole and so good at art” and zuko’s just like “????” and “what in gods name are you talking about????” and the yelling causes a scene which lands them in detention. sokka has never gotten detention before (though he has gotten several warnings in the past, but it’s kinda hard to be mad at the guy whose girlfriend just died for being distracted in class) and he’s freaking out that this is gonna go on his record and he’ll never get into stanford or mit or princeton or– meanwhile zuko is just asleep at his desk.

once zuko wakes up, sokka, bored out of his mind, jokingly proposes that they sneak out through the vents and make a break for it, but zuko, either not understanding that sokka is joking or not caring that sokka is joking (it’s unclear which) is like “yeah we’d just have to be quiet.” sokka, who has now decided that zuko is batshit crazy, but has also decided that he is living on the wild side, a real bad boy rebel who’ll never make ivy league because he got detention that one time, is like “yeah okay” just because he spent a lot of time entertaining this hypothetical and now he’s deathly curious to see if it’ll work.

amazingly enough, it does. adrenaline carries them outside the building and into freedom as they run as far as their legs will carry them until sokka stops to panic that he is now a certified delinquent, and delinquents don’t get scholarships, and if he doesn’t go to a good school then he’ll never get a good job, and if he doesn’t get a good job then how is he gonna support gran gran?????? and zuko’s just like “wait, hold up.”

zuko admits that he fully thought sokka was some type of meathead jock who makes out with his girlfriend in the hallways and thinks he’s too cool for school and sokka’s like “she’s not my girlfriend and also what.” zuko is confused as to why he would make out with someone in the hallway if she wasn’t even his girlfriend. he also realizes that he doesn’t actually know his name. so sokka explains that yeah they’re in love and spend every waking moment together but no she’s not his girlfriend; he doesn’t do relationships and neither does she. and also he introduces himself.

and it takes zuko a moment because he’s really bad with names and faces and putting faces to names and, people, in general, but then he’s like “oh my god you’re that sokka.” and sokka’s just like “yeah i’m pretty sure my name’s not that common???” but zuko is just like “i think my sister is planning to murder you someday.” and sokka just slaps his forehead. of course art class asshole is related to debate class asshole.

only zuko’s not really an asshole he’s kinda just a weirdo. a quiet little freak who paints good. sokka can vibe with that. especially after zuko assures him that none of this will go on any sort of record whatsoever because bumi is old, and batshit, and senile, and clearly doesn’t give a fuck. sokka laughs, and this leads into them talking shit about everyone they both hate, which they realize are all the same people, somehow. seeing their own petty bitterness mirrored back at them, they realize that they’re kind of both snobs, but in a fun way.

they walk through town until it gets dark out, and then they go their separate ways. but next monday they sit together in art class, and their teacher yells at them to stop whispering. sokka is just drawing little triangles across the page because he’s just come from trig and he’s very sleepy and doesn’t really feel like feeling inadequate right now. but zuko’s like, “what are you drawing?” and sokka looks at the page of triangles he was unconsciously doodling and scoffs and says in an affect, “can’t you tell? it’s a cubist take on degas.” and this is the funniest shit to zuko. but of course he then gets yelled at for laughing.

they’re friends after that; they just are. sokka invites zuko to lunch with his friends, at which point zuko meets toph and suki, who are, of course, the fucking coolest.

azula sees zuko talk to sokka or suki occasionally in the halls and demands to know what it is they’re talking about. zuko’s like “i dont….. remember?” but azula is certain that they are only friends with him as a means of getting to her, because they desire to crush her. zuko’s like “i don’t even think they know your name.” indeed, they do not. but sokka does stop calling her “debate asshole” in favor of “zuko’s sister,” so that’s something.

the first time zuko goes to sokka’s house, it is because sokka insists on showing him both back to the future movies. (there is no third one it does not exist.) for reasons unknown to him, zuko is terrified. he wears his favorite sweater that day. it is near-identical to all his other sweaters. he doesn’t understand the first one at all. the second one he remarks “oh that was kind of like hamlet.” that makes sokka really happy. at some point zuko goes to get a glass of water and sokka yells from the couch to bring him back a popsicle from the freezer while he’s at it. zuko complies, but he takes it just before katara goes to get one. he nonchalantly tells her that it was the last one, and she makes a very big show of throwing the box out. she fumes all night that sokka let that rude little bitch into her house. sokka pays her no mind.

mai and zuko are still together at this point, and because mai is dropping hints big enough to pierce through even zuko’s thick skull that she’s feeling left behind in favor of zuko’s new friends, he asks them if it’s cool that she join them for stuff. they’re all like “yeah of course” and mai pretends not to care. they all like mai, especially toph, but all agree that her relationship with zuko is super weird. toph and mai become super tight, and it’s clear as day to toph that mai is in love with ty lee, even if mai is not fully aware of this fact herself. suki, who has been secretly hooking up with ty lee this whole time (don’t worry, sokka knows, and he high-fives her whenever she brags about it), is just like “oh noooooo……” toph insists to mai that she dump zuko, and without mentioning ty lee once, is able to convince her of it just by reminding her that zuko is a super inattentive boyfriend and she deserves better. she does. zuko feels sort of…relieved? he doesn’t know why. he loves mai. he really does. but it’s also like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

zuko doesn’t really know what to do about the fact that his sister is serial-killer level obsessed with sokka, other than try to ignore it. azula is always attempting to pry information out of him because they seem to be, at the very least, casual acquaintances so he must have some leverage by now, right??? she is never allowed to know that he knows where sokka lives, because he is afraid that one night sokka will simply find her hiding in the bushes with binoculars searching for any sign of academic struggle. sokka is blissfully unaware to most of these shenanigans. to him, she is like a buzzing fly occasionally hovering around his face.

that summer, they divide their time between working on college applications and going to the park together to just sit and read. it’s literally the most fun zuko can ever remember having.

english was always sokka’s worst subject because he is terrible at organizing his thoughts coherently and always ends up going on little tangents about the origins of butter churning or digital watches in a paper that was supposed to be about sense & sensibility, but his teachers are usually charmed enough by him that they see his essays as a fun challenge instead of a giant red X. but pakku loathes sokka. and he loathes his sister, whom he had taught the previous year. sokka complains to katara about it, and she just goes on a rant about how horrible and boring and bitter and raggedy he is. but sokka, who, unlike katara, desperately wants to be liked by everyone, feels the need to prove himself.

he goes to the best english student he knows. “hey, you’re really good at english, right?” he asks zuko, to which zuko responds, “i should hope so. it is my first language.” it is unclear whether or not zuko is being facetious or just very perplexed, but sokka laughs anyway. he pleads for zuko to “tutor him” and zuko’s like “but you have all A’s?” he agrees anyway, of course. zuko spends a lot of time on jstor, so he know how to write good. he helps sokka outline his essays in a way that works for him, but mostly it’s just an excuse for them to hang out and eat snacks. at this point, katara likes him and does not mind the fact that he is in her house, eating her food. she walks past the kitchen to be like “what u guys up to? oh, nerd shit?”

sokka and mai accept to the same college, and zuko isn’t sure why he feels so weird about that. they’re gonna be in completely parts of the country, only sokka and mai will see each other all the time, especially because they’re bound to be in some of the same classes together, knowing them, and that’s just weird. like, yeah, they’re friends, and yes, he might be semi-aware of the fact that they hang out without him, like, all the time, but this is different. this is weird. zuko asks mai if she thinks it’s weird and she just raises one eyebrow and goes, “no???” and zuko’s like “oh..okay..”

they don’t see each other all that much in those four years, but they’re always taking pictures of ridiculous passages from the books they’re currently reading and sending them to each other, because they just can’t kick the habit. they both learn a lot in college. sokka takes as many classes as humanly possible. zuko changes his major a lot. toph doesn’t go to school there, but she moves in with sokka once she graduates. zuko learns a lot about himself.

once sokka graduates, he and toph decide to get an apartment in a different city. sokka asks zuko what his plans are once he graduates and zuko’s like “bruh, like i’ve ever planned for anything in my life” so when sokka’s like “wanna be our third roommate” it’s a no-brainer.

sokka picks zuko up from the train station, and zuko is just so overwhelmed by the casual thoughtfulness of the gesture that he instinctively just kisses him, in the middle of the station. zuko is mortified for a brief moment but then sokka is just like “cool.” (sokka later inwardly laments saying “cool.” who says that?? what, is he abed from community???)

sokka tells zuko “just fyi, i don’t do relationships” and zuko is like “yeah, i know, you say that literally every day” but then toph slaps him (”sorryyyyy that was an accident” “no it wasn’t!”) and tells him to get his shit together. so sokka goes to zuko and says, “this may sound insane, but i think i’m afraid that if i love someone, they’ll die” and zuko’s like “oh. i’m afraid of that too.” and that makes it somewhat easier.

ever since mai made them watch over the garden wall, they’ve really wanted frogs so that they could name them after the discarded jason funderburker names. they get their frog terrarium and it’s glorious.

zuko has always wanted a cat, but he knows how sokka feels about cats so he does not bring it up. but one day, as he’s walking down the street, he stumbles across a little black kitten in the cold, shivering, limping, and missing one ear. he drops whatever it is he’s doing at the moment to bundle it up in his scarf and take it to the nearest vet clinic. the kitten is so indebted to him that he physically does not have the willpower to let it go anywhere else but home with him.

it really doesn’t take much convincing at all for sokka to agree to keep jiji (yes, zuko is just incapable of not naming his pets after fictional characters) especially because toph threatens to kill herself if he doesn’t. sokka is just like “woah there calm down you guys. we can keep the cat.” and theyre like “yay sokka youre the best!!!” and he’s just like “oh my god did you think i was gonna make you get rid of this tiny kitten with only one ear.”

zuko has a face for telemarketing. he also does some freelance writing. toph gives sokka very sound legal advice in regards to how to patent all the weird yet supremely useful inventions he keeps stumbling onto. after all, after tim cook offered him $$$ in exchange for that microchip he designed, he sort of doesn’t need a steady job. toph is really good at bullshitting rich people so she makes way more money than she should with those creepy statues of hers. they recognize how unstable their sources of income are, but sokka is really good with finances, so it works out somehow. when katara comes to visit them she complains that sokka has joined the 1% and is hoarding his wealth like the capitalist swine he is. sokka’s just like “katara did you only come visit me because you need money?” and katara’s like “well i won’t lie, so – yes.”

sokka eventually convinces zuko to go to grad school. naturally, zuko thrives there. sometimes zuko will wake up at 3 am and sokka will very intently find him writing the word “nihil” in a notebook and sokka’s like “what’s up” and zuko’s like “NOTHING.” and then proceeds to be like “don’t you see??? there’s no declension!!! everything makes sense now!!!!!!!!!” and rambles on and on incoherently. sokka’s like “oh god i just realized this is how i sound to everyone all the time.”

sokka takes zuko to the worst plays he can find, and then they sit in a 24 hour diner while zuko rants about everything wrong with said play. sometimes he even takes notes. this becomes a weekly tradition.

zuko reads sokka’s shelved manuscript on the history of cartography and helps him whittle it down to only 400 pages. he’s not a very harsh editor, but he did cut the thing by 150%, so that’s a start.

zuko teaches sokka how to paint.

#this has been in our askbox for over two weeks so sorry about THAT #but it happened to coincide with zukkaweek so i think thats fun for us #sokka #zuko #sokkaxzuko #modern au #asks #anon

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 4 years

Text

Michael After Midnight: Heavy Metal

Sometimes it’s fun to revisit old movies you watched when you were younger and find out, hey, this is better than you remembered! Sometimes your young mind just wasn’t ready to accept how awesome something was, and you needed time to fully understand what you look for and like about cinema to truly appreciate it. But then, sometimes, you watch something you liked when you were younger, and you realize… wow, this is absolute dog shit!

Such is the case with Heavy Metal. This is a movie I have frequently cited as a low-ranking entry on lists of the finest animated films of all time, and to be entirely fair to the film, it is important in a historical sense, being a cult classic that was passed around through bootlegs because music rights kept it from getting a home video release, and it came out around the dawn of the 80s and kind of destroyed what you would think an animated film was capable of. This film is full of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and it entirely, unabashedly unashamed of this, for better or for worse.

Now, while I do think the overall film is a bit lacking, it is an anthology film divided into segments, and there are some pretty good ones I will make note of; this is not a film with absolutely no merit. But before that, let me point out the one thing everyone can agree is amazing about this film: the soundtrack. You’ve got Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, Stevie Nicks, Devo, Cheap Trick… if nothing else, the kickass soundtrack is worth a listen, though Blue Oyster Cult’s song inclusion irritates me to a great degree. The movie went with “Veteran of the Psychic Wars” for the soundtrack, despite the fact Blue Oyster Cult had a song ready to go that is literally about the final entry in the anthology, called “Vengeance (The Pact).” Why the people compiling the soundtrack made this choice baffles me; it reminds me of how they didn’t use “Jennifer’s Body” in, well, Jennifer’s Body, instead opting for a different Hole song from the same album.

But I digress. Let’s go one by one and touch on the segments:

The framing device is about an entity known as the Loc-Nar, who claims to be the sum of all evil, detailing to a little girl how it has influenced chaos and carnage across time and space. The thing is, though, the Loc-Nar doesn’t come out on top in any of the segments, and its schemes are often thwarted. So the entire movie is basically this supreme evil being detailing to a little girl how much it sucks ass at its one job.

The first segment is Harry Canyon, a story about the eponymous futuristic New York taxi driver. In some regards it reminds me of The Fifth Element, what with a scruffy, slummy, futuristic taxi driver trying to help a smoking hot babe find out the truth and all, but unlike that film, this short is a lot bleaker and gritty. You kinda know what you’re in for when Harry vaporizes a dude who tries to mug him, and if that’s not enough, the female lead of this short literally throws herslef at him, and yes, he gets to take a dive into her Harry Canyon – and you get to see it.

This is a running theme throughout these shorts – almost every female character has huge titties and is sexually promiscuous, throwing themselves at the first penis they see as if it was their job. It’s so incredibly juvenile and tacky as to be laughable, but I guess this comes with the territory considering the magazine this film adapted.

Anyway, the segment is harmless and unremarkable. It’s exactly what you’d expect from this sort of story, without much in the way of twists or turns.

The second segment, Den, is arguably the best segment in the entire film. We have a nerdy kid named Dan who gets transported across space and becomes the musclebound warrior with a huge cock known as Den. Every woman throws herself at him, every villain in his way gets pummeled, and no task is too impossible for this man! And did I mention that he is voiced by John Candy? Really, Candy’s comedic touch is what makes this entire thing feel fun and palatable; it’s a cheesy swords and sorcery romp through and through. Honestly, I don’t have much bad to say about this one, it’s just very silly fun.

Unfortunately we are back to being not great with Captain Sternn. Sternn, played by Eugene Levy (of The Wacky World of Mini Golf fame), is basically an intergalactic war criminal on trial, and when his paid witness Hanover Fiste (played by Rodger “Squidward Tentacles” Bumpass) comes up to the stand, the Loc-Nar influences him to the most evil act possible… betraying this war criminal in front of the judge and jury! GASP! I’m not sure what the Loc-Nar is really trying to do here; you’d think it would maybe want Sternn free to continue spreading wicked influence across the galaxy, but nah, it just makes Squidward hulk out and tries to kill him, only for the tables to be turned and Squidward to be dropped out an airlock, further cementing how utterly useless the Loc-Nar is.

Thankfully, once that’s over, we have yet another very strong segment, another contender for best in show: B-17. This is a genuinely creepy zombie short film, and the zombies are utterly horrifying and grotesque. This is regarded as the most nightmarish part of the film, and for good reason; this shit is certainly worthy of being called “heavy metal.” Honestly, there isn’t much bad to say about this one either, except perhaps that it is over far too soon.

Then we get to what is probably the worst segment: So Beautiful, So Dangerous. The entire segment is sort of meant to be a lighthearted comedic breather between The last segment and the final one, but it just comes off as combining every problem the movie has into one segment: the uselessness of the Loc-Nar, copious and ridiculous sex, drugs, and so on. Really all that’s missing from this is gratuitous violence, but hey, guess you can’t have everything all the time, right? It just comes off as really dull and pointless, and there’s not really anything particularly funny about anything that happens in it, unless of course you’re a thirteen year old who thinks “big boob woman having sex with robot while aliens snort cocaine” is the funniest shit on Earth.

Thankfully, we end on a strong note with Taarna, which is about a proud warrior woman dressed in horrifically impractical armor (and this actually effects the plot, I’m not kidding, somehow there was some self-awareness here) and a cool alien pteradactly flying off to fulfill a vengeful pact after the slaughter of a peaceful race by barbarians mutated by the Loc-Nar, in what may be the Loc-Nar’s sole impressive feat. Taarna is the ultimate hero, giving us the trifecta of qualities a heroine in this movie should have – boobs, butt, and bush... Er, I mean, sword, cool mount, and ass-kicking prowess. This one is not quite as good as “Den” or “B-17,” but I still think it’s a solid finale that has enough action and awesome music to make up for its tackier elements.

The movie ends with Taarna’s defeat of the Loc-Nar echoing through time and killing it which… makes absolutely zero sense, but whatever, the Loc-Nar is an absolutely atrocious villain and perhaps one of the most useless in cinematic history, he gets a 1/10 on Psycho Analysis. Then the girl gets her own kickass space dragon thing and becoming the new Taarna or something and, honestly, it’s the exact sort of batshit ending you should expect from the film.

So, is this really an awful film? In some places, no. It’s a love letter to cheesy, trashy sci-fi fantasy from the 70s, with all that comes with it, and in that regard it does succeed. But still, a lot of the film feels like the utterly juvenile fantasies of same sad high schooler, or perhaps even middle schooler, who has never had and who likely never will have sex. It’s a tashy little time capsule to a bygone era where this sort of storytelling was okay so long as there was enough blood and titties on display, so if that appeals to you, by all means, check this film out. It’s certainly not the worst thing in the world to watch, but animation has come so far and adult animation in particular is capable of so much more than adolescent masturbatory fantasies that this film has little value beyond a few solid segments and a damn good soundtrack.

Hell, just go listen to the soundtrack. I think you’d have a better time doing that.

#Michael After Midnight #Review #Movie review #Heavy Metal #animation #animated movie #sex drugs and rock and roll

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themountainsays · 3 years

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(CRUELLA SPOILERS AHEAD)

Ok ok i'm not done. There's this one criticism of the Cruella movie that I find increasingly frustrating and it comes down to a disdain for the very existance of such a film.

"Why do all villains need to have a tragic backstory or a complicated motivation? Why can't they just be evil for the sake of being evil?"

You know. As if people didn't have a problem with villains being one-dimensional pieces of cardboard before. As if character development wasn't celebrated by everyone and their mom. As if nobody protested one-dimensional characters and demanded depth. Now that Disney listened and said "Got it!" and took note for their following movies, everyone is complaining their characters have too much personality now. God forbid not everyone who's happy and healthy in real life was born as unhinged as to skin puppies on a whim. God forbid writers aim for realism when developing their characters. God forbid Disney wants it's live action adaptation to be less cartoony.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with villains having any semblance of an explanation for their cruelty! It's clear you guys like it when the villain in question is Zuko or Catra or Azula or even Maleficent, who as far as I remember was better received. And i understand Zuko's character could put all Disney movies to shame, that's not what i'm talking about. Ya'll had no idea how Disney was gonna handle Cruella's batshittery in the film just from watching a trailer. It's not about the quality of the villain themselves. It's that suddenly, for some reason, people became averse to villains with a backstory (as if characters in general having a backstory wasn't the norm) and demand to go back to their cartoon carboard villains.

And look, I understand some villains don't need a personality. Ozai from AtLA wasn't a particularly deep person, but Ozai was more of a symbol of colonialism than his own character. Colonialism isn't evil because it's dad was mean to it. It's just something evil you need to get rid of. I could list a thousand examples like this one.

But these kinds of villains have their time and place and when your story is about a character's descent into evil, then they HAVE to have a certain level of development. There's no fun in watching a character become evil if they already eat puppies for breakfast and always have simply because they're °○☆~evil~°○☆. And if THAT is what bothers you, the fact that the writers even dared to tell a story about Disney's most batshit villain, then you're not addressing the quality of the writing! You're just mad the story isn't what you would have written yourself! That's not serious critique! If it makes you so mad don't watch it!

There are problems with the writing in Cruella, yes. I think her descent into madness and evil could have been better handled. But jesus i'm not mad at the writers for daring to try! We should analyze the message they intended to send, where they succeded and where they failed at that instead of complaining there's a movie about Cruella de Vil at all.

Plus?? I think people are approaching the text in bad faith. Okay. Okay, this is another criticism that bothers me:

"Cruella wants to skin dalmatian puppies because her mom was killed by dalmatians (and this is bad)".

This. This is the most cartoonish interpretation of the text you could come up with. Its a Dr. Doofenshmirtz backstory. And while I think there's more to it than that, if this is what you take away from the film, then why are you complaining? Cruella hates dalmatians because dalmatians killed her mom. Here is your one dimensional cartoo villain backstory! Do you want your cartoon one dimensional villains or not? Because no one complains when cartoon villains have backstories with the depth of a puddle.

And i don't even think this is what the writers were going for! Cruella watched dalmatians kill her mom. Dalmatians were the weapon the Baroness used to commit the crime. Girl has a trauma with dalmatians. It's not a simple dalmatians killed mom -> I want to kill dalmatians. It's less rational. More unhinged. Cruella is a bit mad in case you haven't noticed. I think the place dalmatians have in the narrative makes sense, actually. Through the story, Dalmatians haunt her and she tries in more than one ocassion to have control over them, and this thematically mirrors her gaining the upper hand over the Baroness. By the end of the film, she's able to control the very same dogs that killed her mother. She's in power. She's no longer scared of dalmatians. And we know she's later going to go and skin dalmatian puppies! It's the culmination of her character arc as a villain. It makes perfect sense to me. Its use of dalmatians one of the film's strenghts. The fact ya'll treat it as a meme strikes me as jumping onto the Cruella Hate bandwagon because your mutual laughed at this, so it must be funny. But personally? The silliness is flying over my head. It doesn't seem strange to me at all.

Plus, she clearly had a cruel side as a child, with no explanation or justification. She was just a mean kid. There you have your cartoon villain with no backstory.

And one more thing, and this one really makes me scream into the pillow:

"Disney wants to make the puppy skinner more human and sympathetic."

Holy shit what kind of Twilight-induced satanic panic room did these girls who aren't like other girls came from? Movies aren't trying to teach you morality. Cruella doesn't want you to sympathize with a puppy killer because puppy skinning is good actually. They just want to give you screentime of an evil lady being evil. And when it does make you sympathize with her, it's on perfectly acceptable matters. Like the Baroness insulting Cruella's mother, killing her etc. Cruella wants revenge. And even if you're sick of Cruella, you want revenge too. You want to see the Baroness suffer. Sooo you kinda do root for Cruella on this one. Cruella and the viewer share a common interest. Because God forbid we write villains with sympathetic motivations among their more unjustifiable ones.

No dude Disney doesn't want you to think skinning puppies is good. Is this what paranoid twilight parents did to society? Do we assume films are trying to teach us how to live our lives now?

And Cruella's story is clearly not about girlbossifying her. During the very beginning you see her mother begging her to keep her cruel side (nicknamed "cruella") inside as to not hurt others. She wants her to be Stella, her more loveable side. This isn't like, a Frozen case in which parents repress the child's true self or whatever. Lots of kids are little shits and are told not to take their anger out on others. Repressing "Cruella" is presented as a good thing.

Then Cruella talks about honoring and avenging her mother, being someone she'd be proud of etc etc. She may have mentioned at some point being unable to do so and openly embracing her "evil side", but if she did i can't remember. Ignore this point if that's the case. But as she pursues her goals, she takes on Cruella's persona more and more, eventually killing Stella and becoming Cruella full time. And she seems happy but the viewer who remembers what her mother said and is aware Cruella insists she's doing this for her mother's sake, will realize her happiness and fulfillment are misguided. Cruella becoming Cruella isn't portrayes as a good thing. And the movie ends with her feeling satisfied even though she spent the whole movie going against her mother's wishes and insisting she was making her happy. She doesn't even realize. It's a tragedy IT'S LITERALLY HER VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY

I'm getting distracted. I wanted to wrap up sharing why I think people hate the fact a Cruella movie as much as exists. It's because nothing is ever good enough for people! Because hating Disney is cool and trendy! Everyone hop onto the Disney Hate train! Nothing Disney does could possibly not suck. It sucks by virtue of being a Disney Live Action adaptation. Even though, by telling it's own original story, i'd compare Cruella more to Maleficent than to any other recent Disney live action film. But, you know. No one wants to be convinced skinning puppies is good actually.

Or to watch the movie before shitting on it at the very least

#cruella #ya'll skip the 'watching' part of hate-watchint #please at least watch it before blindly whining please 😭#cruella spoilers

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xxrainstormxx · 4 years

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Save it Lover Boy. Spencer Reid x Reader (Save it for the Doctor Part 2)

(A/N: In this story it’s been a few months. I’m not great at focusing on the Romance part but there is a little more than there was last time. I really hope you guys enjoy!) Word count: 2,405 Part 1 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

After the incident with my sister, my life was flipped around for the better. I began to date Spencer, the team being unaware. I finished college and thanks to a few strings JJ and Aaron had pulled I was now the BAU's personal assistant. Granted, it was a unpaid internship so it was not very glamorous but it got me the experience I need, especially if I want to be apart of this specific team. I was the one who got coffee, filled out unrelated paper work, helped JJ set up stations and boards. I still hadn't quite gotten used to that sinking feeling when the phone rings. Or when JJ approaches your desk, or the photos. You never get used to not sleeping in your own bed, the hotels, no moments of privacy, the monsters, families loosing each other. Or the pictures, it's disgusting. I especially never got used to how numb all my friends were numb to it all at the end of the day. Especially Spence, he'd been through utter hell and yet he was still sweet and managed to smile. It worried me sometimes, how relaxed they could be at the end of the day.

So, JJ and I were setting up everything on the board. I frowned at the woman on the board. Only one, we caught it just in time for it to become a murder. It made me sick to think there was a possibility we could save the 25 year old, but instead we were called in after it became a bigger problem which made me feel sick. How easily someone gets away with something until they commit the actual murder. This woman was a very lively person. She clearly didn't deserve what she had gotten. "Samantha Burkly" JJ said softly "Poor woman." She said and left to talk to the others leaving me sitting in the conference room just tapping away at the laptop provided. I was also little Miss Penelope Garcia's assistant so I was stuck digitizing files she didn't want to, and it fucking sucked dirty dick. Yeah, let that sink in. Anyway I felt a few pairs of eyes on me only to look up and see the team staring at me through the cursed window of the room. "What?" I rose a brow causing a few to look away Spencer's eyes lingering, he was waiting for something. I don't think either of us knew what so I blew him a kiss and a subtle wink making him look away turning pink. That same shade of pink when he found me innocent and began what I would come to know as a very normal rant. His epiphanies, or what I called "braingasms" (which he absolutely despised), would strike a chord 99% of the time, and the other 1% could be brushed off as "Reid being Reid" which kinda upset me. He was a damn genius and yet no one seemed to want to listen. Sure I hadn't been around as long a the others but I would sit and listen to Spence talk for hours when on dates, I would nod, as questions and get very thoughtful and honest answers. Sure they weren't always what someone would want to hear, but did anyone ever tell you it would be good news. Reid and I could also have a very thoughtful debate. Now was that normal for couples, no, probably not. But at least he had facts to back up his opinion, making it a real debate and not just some senseless argument that fell into pointless attacks on the other person leading to a fight and rough makeup sex. Which I wouldn't mind but it'd only been a few months, and didn't wanna make an uncomfortable situation we could easily talk through anyway. What was I doing? Right, paperwork.

As I ended my very long side rant and staring into space while also staring directly at Spencer's ass, I turned to my computer. "You shouldn't stare at people baby cakes." I heard causing me to jump out of my damn seat. "I was staring into space. Jesus Derek you scared the shit out of me!" I cursed glancing to the man with his nose in a file I was digitizing, "Sorry hun. But we need a fresh pair of eyes" he said gesturing to a new less dusty file on the table in front of my computer. I recognized the face on the front as the same woman on the board. Her name written on the front clear as day. I knew what was inside and I was proud to have not seen it but now it disturbed me that my eyes were being referred to as "Fresh" in that way. It made me feel dirty and violated in a whole new way. "Why? You guys know this case inside and out. I'm just the intern." I said and snatched the older file out of his hand. I knew this poor case inside and out by now. Decapitation and sexual assault of the esophagus. Real nasty shit ya know? The woman was 22 and then a man was found two weeks later with the same thing. But the case went cold 7 years ago. It was sad. The woman's mother had killed herself and the man's father disowned his son assuming he was gay because a man did that to the literally gaping hole in his neck. It was one of the bigger case files full of dead ends. I had become intimately aware of all the details of the case, even the signature, something overlooked by the police because they thought decapitation and violation of the hole in the neck was it, and while rare that wasn't the case. It was a soft lipstick mark left on the victims hands next to the stamp of the club they went too. It was pink so very easily missed. "Because baby, you're gonna need to get used to this if you ever wanna be promoted. You can't react like you did back in January and vomit on the floor." Derek chided me softly "Fine, But you have to stop calling me baby, we aren't together. Also stop touching the files they're in alphabetical order and you're fuckin it up" I hissed smacking his hand away from another file at the bottom of the stack. "pissin me off Agent Moron" I wailed as he laughed at the new insult. I could literally feel Spencer's jelousy from the next room. It was honestly kind of cute but I could not be thinking of my boy's sweet face at the moment, I was about to see what really happened to poor Samantha Burkly. I took the new file off the table and opened it to the pictures and I was hit with a familiarity. "Derek this isn't funny. I was just looking at this file" I declared nonchalantly as I lobbed it back onto the table going back to the laptop "What the hell are you talking about?" He asked "that's a brand new file" He said "A red headed woman decapitated with semen in her esophagus and a pink lipstick mark on her hand next to it? That Hellen Barsly not the Burkly girl" I stated "You leave out Jason Green to make it more realistic?" I muttered never once looking up "Pin lipstick mark?" he questioned grabbing the file "I'll be damned there it is. You barely looked at it. That woman is Samatha Burkly" he blinked "Har har Derek" I hissed snatching the file and opened the file as Spencer walked in to listen. I barely acknowledged him because I was pissed at this point.

"I know the Banshee Hunter of West Point case better than my own fucking computer history" I said and held it up to the picture before being shocked as I saw that the decapitated woman was in fact Samantha. Right next to her living photo. "The what?" Reid asked, clearly never having heard of it. "Oh my god. OH MY GOD" I yelled and ran back to my seat pulling out all the files related to The BHWP case, I knew full well that this case was bigger than it seems. "Penelope has me on digital file duty and these cases caught my attention for some reason. The case went cold 7 years ago." I mumbled pulling up all the files that were back at the office in my desk as I'd finished them. I had a whole folder for all the connected cases, even ones where the M.O and victimolgy had changed. "The first murder dated back to 1970. A woman by the name of Jenny Boil had disappeared, she was 24 years old. Found decapitated in the middle of the highway her esophagus had been sexually assaulted. She had red hair with a soft pink kiss mark on her hand and her mouth had been stretched open like a banshee. And because her hair was red along with numerous victims leading up to the sudden coldness of the case. There are cases where the victimology changed completely or the M.O so the police never connected them or assumed they were copy cats" I rambled as I quickly set up a time line that ended with Samantha "and now hes back with the latest victim" I hit enter and the time line stretched across the screen victims all over the screen. "the pink lip stick marks. Originally they were thought to be remorse but I think this guy has some kind of fucked up chivalrous attempt" I squawked and pushed my chair to the whiteboard standing on it feeling eyes on me. I didn't know or care how many. I heard frantic flipping and click me. "This guy has over 100 known victims only 12 of them not red heads. Only 11% of his victims don't fit the victims and only 3 don't fit the M.O of the others making that 2%!" I yelled as if I was Spencer. I could feel my face turning red with adrenaline. "Now all of these cases 100 percent all have a kiss mark on the hand, same brand and color of lipstick, A frosted pink lipstick, 67 Peach Pink from the brand Nestacia" I wrote that down "And all these cases I noted have three different overlapping suspects" I said pushing Spencer out of the way of my computer and printed up their pictured and grabbed them hanging them up "Now!" I continued slapping the board "This man right here is no Biological male! His name is Tyler Grant a 59 Year old trans man! He couldn't have done it but that doesn't mean he couldn't have helped" I said noticing the whole team in the room. No one tried to interrupt because I assumed I looked batshit insane.

I was right cause I caught my refection and my hair was everywhere now, I was sweating, and my pupils were shaking. I didn't care I was on a roll. "There is no plausible way the semen belongs to him!" I said "These also can't be a copy cat killer-" I began before being unceremoniously interrupted again "But how do you-" he began before i loudly shushed Spencer. "Save it lover boy! I'm getting to that! Lemme talk your turn in over" I said making him smile just a little "As i was saying, it can't be a copy cat killer because there was also another unnoticed factor! The strange shape of the lips! No one draws on their lips this way but the pallet is larger on one side than the other. The killer has a cleft pallet, which cannot be a coincidence!" I said "and as you can see! This man right here! Leston Nikolia has a cleft pallet. But because they never had proof he'd done it due to the overlooked lipstick marks he walked free!" I yelled circling him "And we don't talk about Henry for the simple fact that he is Impotent and was in jail during the last 7 murders before Samantha and he's dead now!" I finished and took a large inhale and sat down "the lip stick is enough reasonable suspicion to bring him in for questioning. He's a coward. He cannot face people head on and most likely has high anxiety and is easily paranoid it wouldn't be hard to get a correct confession." I panted "Reid! Is this what it feels like when you solve a fucking problem? I feel like my brain just had 7 orgasms" I wished sitting back "It was always circumstantial but now that there a new victim sitting in front of me I'm sure it was him" I wished taking more deep breaths "I'm going to call Garcia and see if I can get a fact check on everything." Aaron began making my heart sink, please please don't discredit everything I just gave you. "JJ can you get us a location? Reid get started on a warrant the minute JJ gets it, Derek get a game plan together, Prentiss and I will do more investing on this Nikolia guy, and (Y/N)." he finished turning to me. "Keep going over every file you have and see if you can connect anymore of these murders. Good work" He said and the team began to work. "Holy shit" I gasped and Spencer smiled at me "You might have just solved this case." He said kissing my forehead "and I'm so damn proud" he whispered. I was still riding my knowledge high, the adrenaline still pumping so not caring that we were at work, I kissed Spencer straight on the lips. He froze because we were still in a work setting but slowly kissed back. His lips were soft, we hadn't had a proper first kiss, just forehead kisses, cheek pecks, and occasional pecks on the lips if Spencer was feeling sausey. I just giggled pulling back "That was... so much at once. How does your brain do that all the time?" I asked "Mine's been doing it a lot longer. See you after work okay?" he whispered and went to do his job "Right. Work" I whispered and sighed turning to my laptop cracking my knuckles doing real work for the first time in my internship. Who knows, maybe me and Penelope could do this kind of thing together!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot

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moodysnowflake · 4 years

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Please mind the Spoiler slap that might come your way guys...

Let’ talk about Rufus Shinra.

Yes, he has been exploited better than the OG, and yes, once you get the hint the assesment is trying to throw at you, it’s easier to whack his butt.

He still beats the crap out of you.

We have to realize that Rufus is a normal human being. He’s not a Turk either. Sure, he was a prodigy and has been trained by the military, and he might have trained with the Turks too during his “extended assignment oversea” (despite being him the boss, I bet Reno would still try to zap him in the crotch, if left unsupervised). Rude would gave him a sturdy run for his money (of course pun intended) and Tseng did probably manage to wipe the floor with his gorgeous platinum-blond ass at least once when they were younger. Rufus manages to stand his ground against Cloud, a final-stretch-game Cloud. Not an early-game Cloud. You have to run, dodge, parry and dive like hell, and when he hits you, it fluffing hurts. He’s the only human enemy in the Remake who actually manages to do some serious damage using a firearm.

He’s been designed to do that, you might say. Well, yeah, duh, he’s still the only one, so that’s awesome.

Moreover, he doesn’t actually look exhausted, nor particularly beaten up when the battle ends; he just smirks his way out. We couldn’t appreciate it in the OG, but heck yes we can now.

We might argue that’s all a façade, and I think that part of it could very well be true. Cloud did roughed him up after all. Plus, that’s his character, he would never show a speck of vulnerability (”nobody has ever see him bleed or cry” - can we seriously blame him for becoming an ice prince?). And he’s not stupid; once he’s disarmed, he immediately opts for strategic retreat. He’s not a brainless goof, he recognized his huge disavantage: a true tactician indeed.

Him and Cloud's battle dialogue...is it just me, or did they sound like ex-boyfriends angrily snapping at each other?...

C: Think you got my number? [Cloud?]

R: Not at all. You’re making me sweat. Good thing I came prepared. [Rufus?]

C: That’s a new trick.

R: Like it? ‘Course you do.

[Did they actually meet in Before Crisis?!]

R: Let’s make it a night to remember.

Okay guys, seriously, tone it down a notch, would you? That’s too much gold for a single scene!

His outfit might not have us all agreeing, I can totally see why. That off-white contrast to Cloud’s pitch black tho...

Here’s the knot my brain is twisting itself over.

The question slammed my brain like a train, pretty much the same as Rufus’.

I don’t know, you tell me how the heck are you seeing the Whispers...

Tseng going:

Rufus looks at him like “Wait, what? You’re not seeing this shit? You kidding, right?” then proceeds to glare him into submission, either because he thinks Tseung might imply he’s not okay after the fight and he might be suffering some side-effects, or he’s mocking him.

[If it’s the last one, that would open another pit of thoughts, like: if he thinks Tseng is teasing him, that means that happened before. If that happened before, it means he’s not a utter cold-blooded bastard, and they interacted like functional(ish) human beings up to the point of joking. What is this? Solid character background? OG-wise, we know he’s not a saint, but we also know he’s not totally batshit cracker either. Because WRO and Avalanche. (Can’t wait for Barret’s reaction when that’ll happen. That’s gonna be spectacular XD)

Reno’s line ‘You’re sure you wanna do this by yourself, boss? (ENG)//That’s dangerous (JAP)’ could support this theory, even if we know he would talk back to Sephiroth himself.]

Untill now it’s evident that he being able to see them is “Because Plot“

But my spider senses are tingling, feeling something lurking below.

He didn’t seem to be able to see them on the platform while Cloud’s smacking his way through. That could be arguable, ‘cause spotting dark stuff in a dark background is not that easy.

But after the Edge of Creation cutscene (and that’s another thing I’ll talk about later), he’s pretty well able to do that. And he’s the first character we see...

So what happened in between?

Well, there’s Wedge scene...but that’s the only thing we’re allowed to see.

Based on what’s happening in the game, you’d be able to see the Whispers because of Aerith/Sephiroth’s intervention or because the Whispers need you to see them.

That create some interesting choices, which might combine, ‘cause they’re not mutually exclusive:

1. Rufus finds/saves Wedge, or the Whispers are bringing Wedge to him (very unlikely, but you know, overthinking is so fun). He was minding his own businnes, and Wedge suddenly appears. If this happens, I don’t think he’s gonna kill him...Because Avalanche (and because if you resist Wedge’s puppy eyes you don’t have a heart, nor a soul). Yes, he’s ruthless, I know, but there are times during the story in which he doesn’t behave like a complete dickhead. Very few times. But maybe the Whispers need for Rufus and Wedge to meet, and maybe that’s what happened in the hall.

Also, my useless rambling neuron got stuck over a very stupid, very impossible, but very cute idea why Rufus wouldn’t kill him: what if Wedge and Rufus know each other? Barret and the other knows his face, but what about Wedge? Maybe somehow they casually met in Junon, or (god forsake it, my heart) even before in Midgar he saved him from whatsoever situation and he never mention it? Chances are never really zero in FFVII, but I’m well aware that this is far-fetched...like, a lot.

How cute would it be if Wedge woke up with Rufus crouched down there, skeptically looking at him.

‘What are you doing here?’

To which he would chirp “Hey Rufus, long time no see! How’re you doing? I thought you were still in Junon.”

‘I’m the boss here, I ask the questions. What are all these creepy things flying around.’

“Well, I don’t have that much of a clear idea...Also, you’re not my boss!“

‘That’s not helping. Also, technically, yes Wedge, I am.’

”Huh?”

‘I’m Rufus Shinra. (smug smirk)’

“I know that dummy (Rufus would scrunch up his face), what I don’t understand is how that would make you my boss. Blowing up one of your reactors using your explosive can’t make me pass as construction worker.”

‘I am not your boss because of Shinra. I am your boss because I’m the boss of the boss of your boss.’

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

*Whispers taking him away*

2. Sephiroth has a brief chat with him during the moment he’s left on his own (while we’re fighting his true self in the singularity). In the OG, Rufus always had this incontrollable drive to find Sephiroth, an inespicable and obsessive draw to hunt him down, which only Cloud match (and he’s the one guarding Jenova’s remants in Advent Children...). And no, it’s not because he killed his father...we know how idyllic that relationship was. That spark could have been started here.

3. A combination of the two. Because why not.

4. Something else within him helped the trigger.

Speaking about this, I discovered some interesting info. The Remake has retconned his age from 25 to 30, flopping back his birthday from 1982 to 1977. Five years shouldn’t make that much of a difference. We can agree, artistic licence.

Too bad 1977 is also the exact same year Jenova’s remnants have been discovered...As well as the very start of the machination for Project S and Project G.

Using Dirge of Cerberus as reference, 1982/1983 should approximatly be Sephiroth’s birthyear. Which leaves 5 years of preparation.

Is this a coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe the president let Hojo start to experiment on baby Rufus as he saw fit. Nobody would convince me that the president wouldn’t have done it, those two are just too fucked up. That could explain why he was so flipping good with a shotgun since he was 10, why he managed to face a SOLDIER without turning into minced meat (he didn’t show negative repercussions because he could have been resistant to mako poisoning, like Zack; plus he is the only human enemy with some resistance to Poison and Magic), why the president didn’t kill him when he sided with the Turk’s assassination attempt. That wasn’t paternal love; that was probably Hojo interceding to not have a succesfull test subject except Sephiroth eliminated, promising to have him brainwashed.

Like Cloud, despite Jenova’s cells, he wouldn’t be able to see the Whispers by his own. But Sephiroth, or Aerith, might have flipped the switch in some way. Or even Jenova’s or n#2′s bodies, to which we still have no idea what happened.

4.1. The annoyed/angry glare This could also be another reason for the angry/annoyed glare he shoots Tseng, like he’s saying “You know what I am” or “You know taking me down is not that easy”. The first one reminds me of Cloud’s line to Jessie...the look is pretty similar.

Another interpretation of this expression could be that he actually has, from time to time, some odd quirks or weird moments, residues of the mako treatment/cells' interaction. It is very likely that if that’s true, Tseng - and maybe even Rude and Reno - witnessed them.

That wouldn't surprise me: he’s sporting some serious dark circles under his eyes in this scene.

So, he could be also saying “What? Are we doing this again? You still think I’m frail and crazy? Do I have to beat that out of you like last time?”

5. He touched Jenova’s blood; it wouldn’t be that improbable, since it was smeared all over the floor. That might have done the trick by itself, or, if connected to point 4, he could have been drawn to it by the cells within him, which could have worked as catalyst.

6. Any combination of two or more of the previous points. It’s Nomura Testuya we’re talking about, they could all be true for what we know. He’s a goddamn psycho: it’s easier to build a house with a sand-pail and a plastic shovel than understand Kingdom Hearts' series plot .

Too many questions, but the revelation that Rufus can see the Whispers is very intriguing; the whispers needs him for something. Destiny needs him for something. That makes him an even more valuable character that he already was in the OG, and I’m glad they’re doing it.

Nobody seems to be left behind (in character development sense) this time.

We can only wait and hope.

Wish you all the best, Rufie (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *

#ffvii remake #ffvii remake spoilers #ffvii spoilers #ffviir #rufus shinra #ffviir spoilers #ffvii remake theories #ffvii theory

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ziracona · 4 years

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so can u tell us a little about ur characterization of Lisa?? What's she like inside and outside of trials? Does she have a lot of lucidity, what were her relationships with others like, would she ever get better, do you think? ( im SAD.) Just. What's she like!! Also, same for Sally? Oh! And I'm rly enjoying two songs by Meg Myers which maybe you'll like? Running up that hill (Cover) and Desire. Maybe check em out? :3 - Sleepy

Sure!

My Lisa is from a bit before the archives for her placed her (early 1970s), because I wrote ILM back when there was no date given for many killers or survivors, so I just hoped they were historically accurate with the things they did mention & went through a fairly exhaustive list of drained swamps in the Southern US & paddleboat makes & placed her according to that data (it’s been a bit so I don’t remember the exact date without looking up my notes) in the 1920s-1930s, I believe? And in her early 20s, since she’s described as a girl & young woman, which DbD usually does only for characters in their early 20s. (Which I’d still assume is her age, bc even though her archives, if you go by them, have her in her teens, they’re not connected to the events of her disappearance/definitely happened before them.)

In trials, Lisa has like 0 lucidity. I talk about this some in chapter notes, so I’ll try to give a quick overview instead but sry if I restart myself. She’s so starved that any time she sees a living being, she is just completely overcome with hunger and can’t do anything but operate on it. Very scary. Feral. Like being attacked by a starving animal. She’s super out of it, and is completely wild and violent and has no control, only the need to eat. Outside of trials, if no one is around, she’s lucid again, but will remember trials and what she did to people, and spends that time in horror and despair. She’s tried to kill herself before, because the last thing she ever wanted was to become the thing she swore vengeance on (the Entity’s a real cruel motherfucker. Did the same to Rin, to Philip, to everyone it could. Likes to really twist decent people into what they would most despair to be), but in the realm, she’s stuck as it. She’s not really aware for trials, but remembers them with decent clarity, and is in constant agony over what she’s done. Unfortunately, suicide does not take in the realm, and every one of her attempts failed, just like her attempts to maim or tie herself up so she wouldn’t be able to hurt people did. She’s horribly alone and despairing, and also in physical agony. She’s at the worst end of what a human can be at as far as emaciation and starvation while still being alive goes, and that’s physically awful. It fucks up your brain chemistry too, and everything is just really fucking miserable all the time. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, your breath smells tastes like rotten fruit but in a way that’s so much worth than that can sound. She’s so hungry, her addons are things like dragonfly wings consumed to give her extra stamina. That’s the kind of bare sliver of relief she ever gets. God, poor Lisa’s life is hell. She’s completely heartbroken and isolated and almost dead. As far as relationships go, she didn’t have any for a long time. No one can really interact with her, because she goes feral at the sight of food. She’s kinda utterly alone. But briefly, when Alex, Philip, Vigo, Benedict, and Sally were a group, she kind of got stumbled into, and after a kind of nasty first encounter, was able to regain lucidity around other people, and had a truly sweet and memorable and invaluable bit of time with love and friends and other people. She was kind of in love with Sally, who did her hair for her and was really kind to her, and Sally liked her too. They were close. Lisa was close with all of them. But when things ended the way they did, the Entity took that away. Lisa remembers it, but she could never get them or it back, and was cast aside and left behind until the end of ILM, when she finally got peace and found happiness in finally getting to be at rest in the arms of a friend. Overal, she’s a fairly young and wide-eyed, bright, cautious, fun and sweet girl by nature, now massively traumatized and hopeless and broken, but still with a truly incredible amount of that kind nature retained. She would have really loved reading fantasy novels aloud and exploring the worlds of lore and history, travelling, seeing other cultures and geographic features and animals. Enjoys fashion too, and has a heart for designing and making cool, personal and cultural and symbolic tied designs, and would have been both great at that and loved it if she’d lived long enough. (Shoutout to @artianaiolanthe who inspired the fashion take & it is so suited to her I love it). A little shy, but an extrovert at heart under it, just a nervous one. Loved people. Liked climbing trees and fording brooks and baking bread and throwing rocks and baseballs to knock a target out of a tree and win a prize at little town fairs. Didn’t get the length or quality of life she was owed, and it’s just not fair or okay at all. Liked to watch the stars.

As far as getting better goes, mentally, totally. If they could get her out of the realm or break the Entity’s connection, she’d immediately stop killing. She has never done it of her own free will. She’s a sweet small town kid who was just trying to live her life. As far as physically goes though, Lisa is in one of the worst possible spots. Unlike say Amanda, who was on death’s door but healed by the Entity, or the Legion, who weren’t injured at all, Lisa was on death’s door and like Adiris, did not get healed. Just preserved in that near-death state and forced to work in it. Honestly, it’s possible she could survive long enough to get to a hospital and be saved, but at best, she’d probably live another year. When you starve, your body begins to catabolize/eat your own tissue to save itself, starting with fat, and ending with muscles and organs, which, when it reaches the heart, kills you. Lisa was so close to dead, the organ damage was probably awful, and would leave her with complications that would take her very young. The most likely thing, since she was saved literally seconds before death, would be for her to step outside the realm and immediately die. However, it’s possible she got lucky on body damage and could be saved—kinda up to interpretation—and if say, she was around for Quentin’s Vigil going healing batshit, and got some organs repaired that way, she’d have a real shot. (I also am sad. Lisa was actually the only determinate character in ILM to me/that I wasn’t sure the ending for, and while I am very happy with what ended up being her closure, I also would like to see her live for even more love and peace TuT. Lol, if I ever end up doing my goddamn four fate route fics like I’ve joked now a truly dangerous number of times about doing [>.> me @ me] then maybe she will get a variety of lives in the end). I’m glad you wanted to know! I really like and pity her. This poor kid really did nothing wrong, much like Rin, and just got eternally tortured for asking for help and justice against the monsters who took her life so violently. Fuck Brittany. (Read: the Entity.)

Ahhhh Sally. My sweet, sweet girl. Uhhh, not sure which of the Lisa questions you meant for her too, so I’ll try to speed-answer them all? Sally’s intelligent and understanding and thoughtful, patient, polite, almost elegant despite how impoverished she spent most of her life—she just tries to act like a lady and treat people with as much respect and esteem as she can (unless they suck lol). She’s also very mentally damaged and not there though, and has extremely unstable mood swings, especially into despair. Her relationships with the other killers were limited. She talked to & was on polite terms with any who would talk to her and not be condescending or a dick so openly she’d pick up on it (so like, on cordial terms with Evan, Herman, Caleb if she’d been there that long, but not like, Kenneth or Freddy or someone who wouldn’t bother to put up an act). But mostly, after figuring out she wasn’t really of any use to them, they quit communicating with her. Sally has been extremely isolated since shortly after being taken. She believes that the survivors are innocent and suffering and knows that they don’t deserve the hunt, but has no way to stop the whole system, and has been convinced by the Entity that if she does a good job and earns moris, the ones she strangles to death get to stay dead instead of coming back after death to suffer endlessly again, so she works very dedicatedly and slowly trying to earn kills to save them. It took her physical eyes when it got her and lets her see through it’s powers, and uses that to randomize what survivors look like in her memory so she doesn’t catch wise it’s the same people over and over and she’s not saving them at all. It’s extremely tragic. God it’s one of the most cruel Entity tricks, which is saying a lot. Poor gentle woman is Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill day after day year after year and she doesn’t even know how hopeless and meaningless it all is. : (

When the Vigo-Philip-Alex-Benedict team was going, though, she met and attacked, then was convinced to instead befriend them, and quickly became very attached and well liked by them. Met Lisa while with the group, and became extremely fond of her and loving towards her and was truly, truly happy for a brief period of time. Still remembers her, even as lost as all her memories are. Not her name, but what she looked like to Sally, and how her hair felt, and how nice it was. Sally would have considered everyone in that group a dear friend, and in ILM, Philip most definitely becomes her deepest, closest, and best friend, just like she does to him. She’s a very faithful woman to her soul. Loved her family, loved her husband and mourned him, worked as hard as she could. Cared for her patients, and did her best in that hell until the Entity slowly whittled away at her sanity until it broke her mind and left her convinced the only way to end their pain would be to give them death, and she had to do it to save them. Sally loves little pretty things and neatness and collections. Flowers, bows and ribbons, china and colored glass. She would have treasured gifts like decorative holiday cards and carved animal figures and left them on her mantle or carefully tucked in lovingly organized and decorated books she could open to revisit the memory. Likes dresses and skirts and the way the wind feels. Hopeful and very enduring. Loving. Had a mom heart, and will never really get entirely over the loss of her children, but is strong and kind and will find new love that makes life still worth living in other people. Will remember both kindness and cruelty a long, long time. Loved Quentin from the second he gave her flowers (Dwight: Quentin, why did the entity let you have three moms? Quentin: Because I fucking earned it >:[“ [author’s note: he did. God that poor kid...]). Loved Kate from the day she sat with her in a hospital and held her hand. Is like that. Remembers small kindness and treasures them.

Sally could definitely recover. Not all the way probably, physically or mentally, but by far enough to be complete and happy and realized and who she wants. She never meant to hurt people, so she really just needs some stability, and I think she finds that with her new family. I mean, it is a lot to adjust to. It’s been like nearly 100 years. The Entiry broke her mind, and she’s got some damage that just probably can’t ever be fixed, but a lot can be, with drugs and treatments and therapy and kindness and a good support system, and honestly, the biggest things she needs are people to keep her memories together and herself present, and influences to protect her from being manipulated and controlled now that she’s so suggestible and easy to hurt, and she’s got that. I am 100% certain that while some things—the scatteredness, the ease of slipping into other moods especially deep sadness, the different way of thinking altogether—never leave her, she gets better in the most important ways and is truly happy and quite functional and what she wants to be. While there’s no way (yet anyway lol. Cybernetics that good when?) to give her new eyes since the Entity ripped hers out, and she’s blind now, and can’t be changed, her seeing eye dog does a great job for her, and she’s very happy and adjusts well. She has a lot of friends to be her eyes, and learns to lean into what she can do and has a quite fulfilling and blissful life outside the realm in ILM.

Also: thanks for the recs! I’m going on a run soon, and I’ll add those to my iPod and give ‘em a listen if I can. Hope this answered what you wanted to know! ^u^

#ask #sleepy #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #ilm spoilers #dead by daylight #Lisa Sherwood #Sally Smithson #long post

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