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starryficsfinishwen · 9 months

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✧。◟ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ — chrome x reader [PGR] [Happy Activation Day Chrome!!]

please don't be in love with someone else

a.n. - sometimes chrome just raghhhhhh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHROMEE!! I promise to finish that other fic for you LOL also thank you for being one of my resilient lil construct, my Lucia and Wanshi are happy to be with you <3 mwa mwa (IM SORRY AGAIN IM LATE)

pairing - chrome x f!commandant

words - 7,881 (it's why I took long TvT)

tags/warnings - none. fluff! alcohol is involved yet again! chrome x reader shenanigans. yall up to what happens in the end uwu. non-sexual naked cuddling. cute stuff for chrome because happy activation day!!

The stars seemed to have blessed Babylonia tonight.

A crowded room. A brightly lit, dazzling chandelier. Wine and champagne glasses clinking together. Orchestral music filling the room — this is a sight that those who can afford luxury would generally see in their life. High society placed itself on top of the pedestal, overlooking its body that wore no gold.

Forget the war that raged outside; Babylonia beheld the grandeur of the rich folk for tonight, and the stars had rewarded their presence by granting the brightest evening for them.

Such sight is normal to a Smith. After all, they were always born with a silver spoon, to feed and to be fed by high society, for everyone to see.

But not for Chrome. He always thought this life was never fit for him.

There he is — champagne in hand, forcing laughter and faking smiles to those who are around him. Humanoid legs are already used to the wages of war, yet they trembled under the hours of talking to people that only blur in his M.I.N.D.

He is only here due to his father, Mr. Smith. “For you to be familiar with the people you will work with in the future,” he always said to Chrome, “be on your best attitude. Show them the makings of a true Smith.”

But they only bore him. He would rather be doing things that are mundane in the eyes of high society, such as lounging in the comforts of Strike Hawk's dormitory; dealing with Kamui's antics, helping Wanshi fix his sleeping pod, tasting Camu's dishes...or cleaning the corners of his room, or strolling the walkways of Babylonia, or playing chess with a certain someone...

A scene flashed in his memory — a warm hand reaching out to him, a sweet smile, a soft laugh, and the chessboard with scattered chess pieces in front of him. A scene that happened not too long ago, a memory so fresh that made him flush a light shade of pink. Was it the alcohol? No, usual alcohol would never make a construct drunk, unless...?

“How are you holding up, Chrome?” A familiar voice called out to him.

Mr. Smith. Holding an identical champagne glass in his hand, he looks up to Chrome with an expectant gaze. Chrome straightens, clearing his throat. “Mr. Smith, I am doing well. I have met the people you told me earlier.”

“Glad to know,” He nods, “it's beneficial as a Smith to meet your future prospects. You know that already, Chrome, don't you?”

“I do, Mr. Smith,” Chrome solemnly spoke.

“Other than that, have you seen the Commandants who are invited tonight?” Smith tsked, “they have commendable records. They seem to enjoy tonight's feast before they go back to war once more. Especially Gray Raven's Commandant, hm.”

Chrome's ears perked up. “Gray Raven's Commandant is here tonight?”

He knew the party was for high society, with some specially invited commandants. Yet, Gray Raven's Commandant? He overlooked that part, why didn't he know?

“Yes, it's understandable due to the glory they have brought to Babylonia countless times now.” Smith paused, moving his hand to make a circular motion with his glass, “I've seen them earlier. Now, they are nowhere to be found.”

“Ah,” Chrome slightly faltered, muttering, “a shame.”

“They also seem to blend well with us, I'd say.” Smith hums, taking a sip from his glass now, “they look well with us, even. We should try asking them to join when they retire.”

A particular thought crosses in Chrome's M.I.N.D. — a person wearing a simple dress amongst the crowd yet so vibrant, the same warm hand he saw as she held onto his arm, smiling fondly at him. The very thought that somehow made his heart crumble in a good way —

“Chrome?” Smith asked, causing Chrome to snap back to reality, “are you alright? You look red.”

“I do?” Chrome muttered, “I'm sorry. There must be something wrong with my cooling system after I got injured last battle. I am planning to get a maintenance check once more.”

“Alright then,” waving his hand, Smith nodded, “I'll leave you be. I need to meet with other people.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Chrome approaches the nearby table tp place his glass, “I will return soon.”

Finally, away from the party, Chrome found himself lingering outside. The garden outside of the hall seems to be the answer to his dilemma, the cool breeze and the artificial night decorated with the authentic stars sparkling above him. He breathes into this sight — once more, a thought that popped into his M.I.N.D.

“The sight may be beautiful in Babylonia,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, “but the ones here on Earth are prettier.”

Bright irises staring at him with a gentle gaze amongst the dark plains, a genuine smile on your lips, “don't you think so, Chrome?”

The memory shook Chrome, his heartbeat skipping. What was it with him lately? Thinking of a particular person that he holds with high regard? It seemed unlike him, the man who only thought of perfection. Battles and tactics are his expertise that makes up his thoughts, yet such stray memories and incredulous scenarios have distracted him since his recent rendezvous with that certain commandant...

His hands tremble. They seem lonely. A small part of him wishes those familiar hands would hold them right now.

Gray Raven's esteemed Commandant. The very thought of her makes Chrome weak. He who should maintain a professional, beneficial relationship with her. Yet, thoughts beyond that relationship seemed to have spawned in his M.I.N.D.

Chrome entertains that thought to no avail. After all, a small part of him wishes he should have seen or heard from you tonight.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star~”

Yes, something like a nursery rhyme that is sung by you. Sometimes, Chrome thinks you drove him insane to the point that he's having hallucinations of you.

“...how I wonder where you are~”

Wait. That voice seems closer and familiar. Surely, he wasn't dreaming. Chrome rushes to the source of the voice.

“up above the world so high,” the voice hiccupped, “like a diamond in the ska-ay~!”

Chrome thinks this sight is one of the best he's ever seen: sitting on the ledge of a fountain, gazing at the water beneath, your sky-blue dress nearly submerged yet you didn't look like she minded; in fact, in your hand was a glass of unfinished wine, and your face seemed too pleased with your antics, a contagious smile written on your face.

Gray Raven Commandant in the flesh. And drunk. (According to Chrome's readings anyway)

“Commandant!” Chrome's voice - shaking? - echoed throughout the garden, making you look, “Over here! What are you doing?”

You finally look at Chrome, your usual bright eyes laced with tiredness and mirth. Upon recognizing the figure that was approaching you, you cheerfully raised your glass to him.

“Hello stranger!!” your shoulders shake with visible joy, “you're hereeee, come on, come on! Join me in watching the fishies~”

Stranger? Perhaps the alcohol fogged your senses. “Fishies?” Curious, Chrome follows where your hand points, to the fountain...devoid of any fish, “I...see?”

Instead of fish, Chrome could recognize that the 'fish' the Commandant referred to are the coins that people must have thrown into the fountain. The reflection brought by the moonlight highlighted with the pattern underneath the fountain must have tricked you into thinking she was talking to fishes. Not wanting to break your delight, Chrome plays along.

“I named that lil' blue fish Lee, because he looks grumpy.” You giggle as you point to a blue-shaded coin, “then that pink one is Liv!”

“That's cute, Commandant,” Chrome chuckles, opting to sit at a considerable distance from you, “who else did you name?”

Lights over the garden seemed ethereal. Haloed with the gentle glow of the skies, the white noise of the party inside the hall, and the mellow laughter of the Commandant — Chrome could easily capture this memory for a lifetime, although you couldn't recognize him. He could try taking away the glass in hand and tell you that you're drunk, but he does not. Instead, he asks more about the 'fishes' you found. And somehow, you went silent.

“Commandant?” Chrome gently pokes the silent Commandant, “are you alright?”

“Mmm,” closing your eyes, you tapped your chin, “stranger, I can't see Chrome...”

The nickname seems to grow on him now. “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe he's sleeping.”

“Fishies never sleep!” opening your eyes just to stare at Chrome, “that's basic knowledge!”

Chrome could finally see you properly: the dress snugly fit you, the train already submerged in the water. Some strands of your hair framed your face perfectly. Alcohol flushed your cheeks in the shade of pink. Irises that still lit brightly amidst the dark, a sight Chrome could never forget. Blinking to come back to reality, Chrome reached out to brush away the strand that was on your lips.

“Some fishes sleep with their eyes open.” Chrome smiled, “but what you said is still, it's true, Commandant is always smart.”

A smug smirk flashed on your lips, arms crossed to assert her amusement, “hm! I told you!”

One of the sleeves fell to your arm as you moved. Flickering to that, Chrome spoke before reaching out to lift it, “Yes, of course. Commandant, are you not cold?”

“Nope!” Somehow filled with a new burst of energy, you drunkenly placed the glass in front of Chrome, making Chrome reel back, before struggling to stand up on the ledge with the heels on. Chrome acts quickly, aiding you by holding your legs for support. “I realized something!”

“Commandant! What are you doing, get down!”

“I need to find Chrome!” you spoke with such reverence, it could make Chrome cry, yet it only made him scared, “he could be drowning!”

Drowning? “Commandant, I know you're smart,” Chrome hesitates, before speaking, “but fishes don't dro-”

“-I know what I'm doing!” you grin at him, rotating your arm as if exercising and exhales, “that's why I'm going to save him from this ocean!”

At that moment, Chrome realizes where he went wrong. “Wait, Commandant, no!”

At least he tried to stop her.

A shivering Commandant is wrapped in Chrome's coat for tonight.

“Are you alright, Commandant?” Chrome spoke as he ran through the streets, “do you still feel cold?”

After the stupid attempt at jumping head-first into the water, Chrome had to save you - even after trying to get away from his hold. Now, you were tightly wrapped in Chrome's coat, carried like a princess in his arms.

Sneezing, you shook your head furiously, “I'm fine, you stranger! Why did you stop me?”

“The waters in Babylonia in the evening get colder. I don't want you to suffer from hypothermia.”

You whine, before sneezing once more. “I was fine! Oh well, I managed to get Chrome though.”

“You managed to- what?”

Fishing out of his hold and the coat, you childishly held out a white and blue-tinted coin. Chrome could only sigh in disbelief.

“Also, put me down, you stranger!” Attempting to wiggle out, you whine more as Chrome tightens his hold on you, the familiar way illuminated by the lights already in sight, “my mama said not to trust strangers!”

“Right,” Chrome laughed, his heart skipping a beat, “don't worry, I'm taking you to Chrome right now.”

Halfway through the run, you drifted off to sleep (and it granted Chrome the opportunity to see you comfortable with your guard down). Finally, they arrived in front of the Smith Estate.

Carefully opening the door, Chrome is met with a comforting silence. Were the cleaning robots still around? He knew his father wouldn't be around until the next day, which meant the robots were the only company. Stepping inside, he finds the place deserted, the faint sound of the Commadant's breathing filling the room. Placing you (not minding the water dripping off of you) to his room on his bed, Chrome rushes to the kitchen.

Still no robots around. Easy to explain and less hassle to explain why a stranger was in his bed. He'll worry about that the next day. Quickly, he grabbed a few pieces of food from the fridge and concocted a hangover drink and water.

Upon returning to his room, Chrome finds you still asleep on his bed. Silently placing the items he brought for you, Chrome wistfully gazes at you.

“you're always taking care of me, Chrome,” you'd say if you were awake, your voice echoes in his M.I.N.D., “I want to return the favor.” (You are now corrupting his thoughts.)

A little stir from you made Chrome snap out of his daydream. Slowly opening your eyes, looking around your surroundings in a daze, Chrome leans down to check on you.

“Commandant,” he softly calls out to you, hand touching yours, “are you awake? Can you sit up?”

“Mmmhm,” rubbing your eyes as you sat up, Chrome aiding you, “where am I...?”

“You're in my room. I will take you back to Gray Raven's headquarters when you've freshened up and rested. Come on, drink some water.”

Your legs dangle on the side of Chrome's bed as you sat up. Your figure, although shivering from the stunt, still seems smaller than him. Chrome reached out to grab the glass of water and hold it out for you, but you only stare at him.

“Commandant?”

“Ch...” you whisper, slowly lifting your cold hands to cup Chrome's cheeks, “Chrome...”

His heart flutters at the call of his name. With a free hand, he caresses the hold on his cheeks. “Commandant?”

“Why are you...hot?”

Chrome's cheeks burn at your touch, he noticed. Was it really the cooling system, or that his growing fondness for the Commandant of another team making him like this?

“The cooling system,” he chose the first option, “I'm trying to get it checked, don't worry.”

“Mmh, Chrome...”

Your innocent, sleepy eyes were looking at him. And you were leaning closer to him. A human instinct, Chrome leans forward as well, until their foreheads touch.

“...Chrome. Why don't you call me by my name?”

It feels expensive. It feels surreal. He wanted to tell her, but the words die in his throat.

“I will only do so, if you wanted me to do it, Commandant.”

“Mmh.” Your breath fans Chrome's own lips, further intensifying the heat in both of your cheeks. “Then, Chrome...”

He closes his eyes. Closer, closer...until you pulled away so abruptly. And then, a warm liquid spilled across his chest.

Chrome's eyes opened. Sometimes, the timings are uncanny.

—

A bathtub full of bubbles, lavender dousing the room with its intoxicating smell. Near the bathtub, Chrome sweats nervously as he stares at the guilty figure sitting on the toilet.

“I'm sorry,” the Commandant, who was usually strong and courageous in the face of danger, shrunk in guilt, voice timid and remorse, “I didn't mean to puke in front of you.”

“It's alright, it's not your fault,” he dismisses it, smiling slightly, “I was planning to get you changed...”

He is already wearing a new set of clothing, compared to you. After that quick nap, you seem sober. But based on Chrome's readings, you are still far from being sober. At least, you recognize him now. Squeaking, you shook your head. “I can't just let it slide. Is there anything I can do for Chrome?”

Kneeling on one knee, Chrome awkwardly pats you. “It's okay, really. Um...”

A reddening blush was on Chrome's cheeks as the words died in his throat. He motions to your soiled clothes, clearing his throat in an attempt to gather his pride.

“Commandant, I am going to...” whispering, “...I'm going to take off your clothes so you can...um, take a bath.”

You stare at him. Blinking tired eyes at him, you slowly nodded. “Okay.”

You turn your back on him, presenting the zipper on your back. For you, it seemed normal (Liv and Lucia are always hands-on whenever you are invited to events like this, so they're seen what's behind those clothes). But Chrome, whose ventilation was now out of place from the possible outcomes running through his head, was shaking and turning into a blushing tomato.

“You can unzip me, Chrome,” you pipped, noticing Chrome's silence, “I can't reach the top.”

A shaky exhale from Chrome. He mutters something you couldn't hear, but could feel the small pressure from his hand holding your hair to the side before resting on your shoulder.

“I will...start unzipping you, Commandant.”

It feels...intimate. The way Chrome held onto the zipper with care, thoughts running wild in his M.I.N.D., dragging it down slowly. You notice it, despite the alcohol fogging your thoughts. The sound of Chrome's nervous breathing, the water dripping from the faucet, the bubbles on the tub — it almost makes you sober.

However, a question seemed to linger on your lips. But before you could ask, Chrome had already unzipped your dress, the sleeves finally down on your shoulders.

“I-I'm done, Commandant.”

You turned to Chrome, a smile on your lips, “Thank you! But...are you...okay...?”

“Yes.”

You weren't that convinced. In front of you, Chrome's hands shook, and his face was in the deepest shade of red. You tilted your head to the side, before shimmying out of your clothes. Yes, still in front of the man who has been nothing but an angel to you.

“I'm done!” You excitedly quipped, standing up, causing the dress to fall to the floor. “where am I going next?”

Seemingly snapping out of his trance, Chrome looks down to pick up your clothes and dashes to the door. He stops by the door frame, his back facing you. “I need to put your clothes in the washer. They'll be ready after you take a bath.”

“Chrome, will-”

But he was already out of the door.

Chrome remembers every part of the laundry process, even without help from the robots. Yet, even though he has loaded up the washing machine (he knows it'll be done in at least 2 hours, clean and fragrant), his hands are still shaking, the memory in the bathroom turning his mind into a haze.

Even when he closed his eyes after he unzipped your dress, or when he heard it drop to the floor, he couldn't help but imagine — how your skin must feel under his touch, soft or smooth; the expanse of your back, would there be goosebumps like when you touch him; would there still be a smile on your face even when you would know about his feelings?

He accidentally slams the door of the washing machine too hard. It's all pointless, really; all he wanted was to show how eager his rapt attention, yet terrified that he may have crossed unwanted boundaries. Maybe he needed some rest. That's right - it has been a long week anyways. Sighing, he leaves to go back to the bathroom, in case you fell back to sleep...

— except, he called it too early.

“Chroooome,” you cried out as you whimpered in the tub, bubbles covering everywhere but your face, “I'm drowning!”

Suffice to say, he wasn't going to be relaxed tonight.

The water was warm.

And so was the hand that you wish you held onto as you dangled your arm on the ledge of the tub, reaching out to Chrome, who sat on the floor. You wanted something - but the golden boy wouldn't budge.

“Join meee,” you pouted, “don't you see I am a lonely girl sitting here so lonely?”

The light of the bathroom casts a glow over Chrome's frame. The sound of the water splashing around, paired with his humming, sends your mind in a close lullaby, you fear you'll only fall asleep at this rate.

“I see you well, Commandant.” He shook his head, “however, I will stay here.”

“Mean.” Huffing, you sunk to the comforts of the bubbling water, feigning annoyance to him “At least I could wash your hair...you said you'd allow me to see you with your hair down...”

“Commandant,” it's a surprise how Chrome could still hold his composure, voice calm and cool, “you are drunk. You are also very dirty, so it's best you wash up now and get dressed in something warm.”

“I'm not drunk!” Exasperatedly raising your hands, you glared at Chrome, “and I can't wash my hair...”

You look at him expectantly, to which he stares back with curiosity. Pointing to your wet hair, you whispered. “I always wondered what it's like to have my hair washed.”

“And?”

“Will you...wash my hair, please, Chrome?”

Crossing his arms, he thinks for a moment. “Will you promise not to do anything stupid?”

“No.”

As he scoots closer to you, you reeled back. Chrome mistook it as something else, when he sees the look on your face.

“...don't tell me you are planning to wash my hair in that.”

“Pardon?”

“Strip!” you pouted, “I get fussy when someone isn't touching me.”

In an instant, you see Chrome's cheeks tint a shade of pink. “Commandant, that sounded...”

“Hurry up,” you yawned, scooting a little closer to the faucet on your legs, “I won't look.”

True to your word, you look elsewhere but wherever Chrome was. Raising your hands high to your face (look how pruned they are, the longer you stay), before the shuffling of clothes and the sound of cautiousness tiptoes its way into the water, beside you. From your peripheral vision, you see two hands reach out to hold your open hands — have these hands looked so lonely until Chrome came?

“Look at you,” he huffs, fingers caressing the pad of your pruned fingers, “you should have been faster.”

You find comfort in this cramped space — the warm water that you're doused in, a familiar body close to yours, a heat that you never realized you've been craving all this time. You crawl; on Chrome's legs, your scent intertwined with the smell of lavender, you hope it rubs on the man beside you. Unknowingly, you crawled further, until your back hits the sturdy structure of Chrome's physique, leaning back to curl up in his chest.

“Can we stay like this?” the words slipped past your mouth, faster than you could have noticed. Without a word, his hands drifted to the expanse of your shoulders, your arms, your clavicle.

His hands rest there, as your body relaxes in his embrace. The subtle, erratic beating of his heart is there, it's not a surprise when yours mirrored his. And you smell the hint of vanilla on his skin, forgetting that he's humanoid in these very small moments. Yet, you breathe into it, the smell lulling you to sleep faster.

“If you want to,” he mutters, “I thought you wanted to rest.”

“I do, but I feel comfortable when there's someone else.”

The quiet snap of the shampoo bottle opens. Along the way, he places his hands over your head, gently massaging the tips of your hair to make the shampoo bubble, to your scalp. Gentle, soft as he held you like this. The way he pours the water over your head, careful enough to not let it reach your eyes. You must smell like lavender now; the scent already sinking into your skin, like how Chrome's warmth was seeping onto your cold ones. His touch felt unreal, it makes you want the world to freeze for a moment and only behold this scenario for a long, long time.

“Commandant,” even his voice was a whisper, movements slowing to a stop, a telltale sign that he's done, and a little emotion was hanging on your chest - annoyance - “finish up washing now. Your hair is done.”

A dissatisfied grunt escaped your lips. Sitting up straight, you turned to him, hands outstretched. “Let me wash your hair too.”

Slightly looking down from your chest, his eyes shot up to meet yours, the blush that was on his cheeks already invading his ears. “N-No. This bath is only for you, Commandant.”

“Pleaseeee,” you dawdled, brushing away the bangs that covered his face, “I want to help you.”

Although hesitant, he lets you anyway; you, crawling to straddle his thighs, reaching out for the shampoo on your right. His eyes were carefully trailing your movement, which made you shrink under his grasp, but you never minded (after all, the both of you are naked in front of each other, what else was the difference?). You mimicked his movements: massaging the scalp, entirely focused on how you moved your hands on him.

“You're so pretty, Chrome...”

“Huh...?”

“I'm drunk but you're still pretty.” you giggled, booping his nose, “in the morning, when I'm sober, I know you'll be prettier.”

You thread your hands into his hair now, forgetting that bubbles should come out, but you're too focused on everything around you, drowsiness coming to catch you.

“Your hair,” you mumbled, aware of his hands placed on your waist, “...it feels really soft.”

“Does it?” He chuckled, eyes closing, “I'm glad you think so, Commandant.”

Commandant. A title you've always worn, but the way he called you that, a gnawing feeling crammed in your chest — with that pretty mouth of his, a stray thought made you think: what would it be like if he were to say your name?

“You never call me by my name.”

Turquoise irises locked with yours. Unable to pull away, mesmerized by the magnitude it beheld as you stared at each other — you wanted to speak, but Chrome beats you to it.

“I- I never thought I'm allowed to say it.” Looking away, the flush you've seen earlier came back and dusted his cheeks, “we never established it before.”

“Call me by my name then, Chrome.”

You wonder how your name would sound when it leaves his lips. You wonder, if the sound of your heartbeat reverberates if speaks, if he calls you in a name hidden behind your title — and for a moment, you've realized.

“[Y/N],” it is quiet, a soft tone calling for your name, “[Y/N],”

All you could do is close your eyes. Your mind is racing. The sound of two people, breathing in the silence, in the warmth of another's presence. The bubbles are now dissolving in your fingers and in his hair, you're certain the ones on your head are gone too. Were you still drunk, or had the intensity of your feelings reached its threshold? It made your mind spin, and your fingers tremble. What was going on?

“Did that sound weird?” You opened your eyes to find Chrome's worried gaze. Still realizing the situation you're both in - and yet you were both comfortable now - you opened your mouth, only to close it.

You realized you've always liked Chrome all this time.

And the way he said your name is far from what you've imagined. You breathe in once more at his appearance: disheveled hair coated in shampoo, flushed cheeks in contrast to his pale complexion, doe-eyed in the shade of the light. Of course, you had to fall for this man. And it made your heart ache - alcohol or the touches alone? Who knows.

“No.” You quietly spoke, looking away, hiding the blush on your cheeks, “I...want to get out now.”

Chrome doesn't say a word. Instead, he stood up and left you there - confused, in a daze. When he comes back, a pair of clothes were on his arms.

“Can you stand, co...I mean, [Y/N]?”

“Thank you for the clothes.”

You spoke by the time you re-entered his room, the oversized shirt hanging loosely on your body. You looked at your appearance in the mirror twice before leaving the room, where you'd deemed it was good enough, however; judging by the way Chrome was staring at you intensely, head to toe, you couldn't help but wonder - is something wrong?

Chrome must have changed the sheets first, the shade of blue occupying the space on the bed. He now stood behind a smaller stool, a hair dryer in hand. You awkwardly stood, gesturing to the sight behind you: “I promise I'll repay you back when I get back.”

“The shirt,” He looks away for a moment, before clearing his throat, “it looks...good on you.”

You looked down — the oversized white shirt with the print fading away reaching down your thighs, just above your knees. At least, you were wearing something to combat the cold, yet your back catches the wetness of your hair, which made your temperature drop further. Noticing this, Chrome motions you to sit on the stool.

You are compliant with his wishes. He starts to turn the hair dryer on, before carefully handling your hair. In front of you was a tall mirror, which must have been Chrome's height. As he gently starts to dry your hair, you take in your surroundings - it's your first time in Chrome's room. As they say, the bedroom reflects its owner; tidy, neat, and everything in place. Various books with small print on the spine you couldn't make out on the shelves, the Queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. A perfectly neat study table with a few papers here and there near the dresser of the bed. It brings you to shame, how cleanly Chrome sets up his room which is far different from yours.

It reflects; your senses in a daze as you feel Chrome weaving through your locks, attentive to how his turquoise irises are on his masterpiece. Your eyes look up at his face once more.

“You also look good with your hair down.”

His attention flickers back to you. It's true - he looks more human this way, hair framing his face. Blinking slowly, he sheepishly laughs. “Ah, I always have my hair down after a shower. Do I look weird?”

“No.” You admit, “you look handsome still.”

Another wave of silence washes over. You realize you're more sober this way, the guilt of not talking too much gnawing on the back of your throat. But you are thankful, Chrome takes the opportunity.

“You are wearing my shirt that the F.O.S. gave,” humming, he brushes away the hair on your back, heat radiating off on your back, “they gave it shortly after graduation. I took it before father could notice.”

The hair dryer shuts off. He places it on the dresser, eyes still on your now-dried hair. You asked, “does your father not want you wearing these things?”

“He thinks it's useless. After all, medals and honor are the only valuable things the college would give to you.”

“But I see that it seems well-used,” you smell the cologne Chrome uses every day, “like you've always worn it.”

His hand is on your shoulder, tracing the outline. “Shortly after my Construct surgery, I always wore this. Anywhere as long as my father wouldn't see.”

A thought where Chrome wears the shirt comes to mind, in bed, clutching the fabric. Holding a handful and raising it to your nose, you spoke, “is there a reason?”

But he only sighs. “I am a Construct.” He looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, “I am made for war. I threw away my humanity a long time ago.”

Those words tugged a hidden emotion in you. Spinning to meet his figure, you craned your neck just so you can properly look at him. Words are bubbling in your mouth, but it comes out dry.

Yet, you try anyway. “It's true that you're made for war, but you shouldn't be denied of these...”

“It's alright, co...[Y/N].” The call of your name sends your heart into somersaults, “I've learned it the hard way. There is no need for me to feel that way anymore.”

“Besides,” he added, as he got on one knee, smiling, “it's time for you to take a nap. It's past 2 am now. I wouldn't want my Commandant to be sleep deprived, yes?”

“I-” you looked at Chrome, you don't pretend you didn't mishear his words. Looking at his irises, you took a deep breath.

“The first time I saw Chrome,” you began, “I always thought you were attractive.”

That caught his attention. Tilting his head with an eyebrow raised, he curiously asked, “I'm sorry?”

“I wondered why a human like me was roaming around the city ruins that day.” You fidgeted with the hem of your clothes, “But then, I saw your inver-device.”

Ah, this memory. Chrome remembers it fondly. In the heat of dispute, where Lee had been injured badly, he doesn't remember if it was the situation at hand or the way the sunlight shone down on you that day - either way, he always thought it was something for that moment.

“It didn't change one bit of my impression of you.” You take a deep breath, “I think...it became something else.”

Your heart beats chaotically. You're sure it's the alcohol, but you're also aware that it's your feelings shaping at this very moment. Your hands tremble with want - to hold Chrome, to hold his hand.

“Something else?”

“I don't see you as a Construct, Chrome,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his chin, eyes trailing where your finger touched, “I see you more than that.”

You're aware; his gaze on you, as his own fingers shake as they touched yours. Such feelings have echoed in your mind, and you are afraid they wouldn't go away unless you tell them upfront. Are you scared to be rejected? Too bad, you're not; let the alcohol drain all your fears tonight.

“I don't want you to keep calling me 'Commandant'. I don't like it when you see me as someone from F.O.S., but I like it when you touch me, or when you're close to me-”

His hand is holding yours now. Firm, gentle. He's in front of you, and you swore you could see the future reflect in his irises. It's warm, the way he grasped your hand, fingertips touching his lips. His eyes are closed - a single kiss on every finger, mouth muttering some kind of prayer.

“[Y/N],” he whispers on your fingers, gazing at you with an expression you've never seen him make before.

Loving. Adoration. Something along those lines. It claws on your stomach, inching up to the top, that if you opened your mouth you would regret.

“When I saw you at that time, I didn't know what to think. I remember thinking: would you only be another soldier I will see on the battlefield, regardless if dead or alive?”

“Am I the former?”

“A part of me thought so. But...”

He pauses, before taking your hand to his chest, a strong vibration echoing there. Your heart feels the same, it wishes to free itself from the cages of your ribcage and into whatever was in the middle of the both of you.

“If I were to lose you, I...wouldn't know what I'll do.”

Heaviness weaves in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, blissfully unaware of the distance left between your lips. “Chrome,”

“[Y/N], I cannot...”

“I like you, Chrome.” It is a genuine confession. You never lied. “I like you too much, that I feel like my heart can't handle it if you disappear on me, too.”

A confession that brought tears to your eyes. “I want to run away with Chrome. I don't want to be away from you.”

“I'm not going away.” He took you by the waist, propping you on his thighs, “I'm here.”

“Meeting you...being here with you...it feels enchanting.” You closed your eyes, blindingly touching wherever your hands meet, “Please don't be in love with someone else...”

Chrome feels like it's the first time for him to recognize the ability to love. The passion for studying, living in the moment where examinations take place, keeping everything orderly — it has always been how he always lived. Yet, for the first time — someone was here in his room, in his touch, in this space. It makes him greedy; it makes him wild.

“[Y/N],” his hands cup your cheek, nuzzling your cheek, “I feel the same way. I like you - I adore you. Every glory I will bring to you, it will be all for you.”

That confession triggered something inside of you - to bridge the gap between the both of you. Leaning forward, the urge to slam your lips to him right there and then grows fervently. However, a hand stops your advances. Pulling back, you are met with a blushing Chrome, looking at you in awe.

“Comman- I mean, [Y/N], as much as I want to kiss you...I cannot. I can't kiss you when you are still drunk.”

“But I want to, let me show you how much I like you.”

His hand easily slips under your shirt, warm ones grasping your hips, rubbing circles around it, “In the morning. When you are sober, when you are about to make better judgement. I will let you do whatever you want.”

A mischievous smile graced your lips. “Anything?”

The blush on his face became a darker shade. Shyly nodding, “Yes, anything.”

He eases into his arms. Lifting you up and carrying you to bed, a thought crosses your mind — you, in a long white gown, and him, in a silver tuxedo. You see him in the lights of the room, illuminated in this dark evening, his smile sending ripples of your heart into motion. You see him this way, your hand carrying a bouquet of flowers that you both love, your fingers intertwined with a ring of promise. In your thoughts he carries you like this, and you swore it felt familiar; one day, you wish. You would have to tell him in the morning.

But for now, the alcohol hits you harder more than ever, drowsiness threatening to shut your eyes. As you felt yourself dip into the mattress - his bed - you wish you could stay with him, the lingering warmth on your skin now fading as you feel him pull away. But your mouth is a jumbled mess, only opting for the fatigue to succumb to you. So, you use your hand, grasping whatever you could reach - his shirt, his hand, his arm.

“Don't go.” You beg, voice laced with grogginess and want, “won't you stay here?”

“I will be sitting here next to you. Don't worry, I'm not going away.”

“No,” your voice sounds like you're pleading now, “don't go, stay beside me. I want you to be beside me when I wake up.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Stay with me, Chrome.”

With a sigh, you feel the space beside you dip. The shuffling of sheets, the smell of lavender invading your weary senses. At last, warm hands enclose yours, before placing them close to his lips, one last kiss before darkness consumed your senses.

“Goodnight, [Y/N],” you knew he'd tell you that, “I will see you in the morning.”

Chrome doesn't see you in the morning.

When sunlight slipped through the windows, he woke up to an empty space beside him. Disappointment comes knocking on his door, calling out that he was only dreaming for something unreal, something that only humans would indulge in. Although the sheets prove that someone else was here with him last night, he doesn't dwell on that slipping hope. Instead, disappointment and frustration, paired with despondency, makes a home inside his chest and his M.I.N.D.

No longer interested in ruminating on the mattress, he drags himself out of bed. However, the robots that usually greet him aren't around still. But the floors and the walls on the rooms he passed are cleaner than what he saw last night.

Probably elsewhere. Probably at the garden.

But the glass door to the garden shows no signs of robots, at least where his sight can reach. No robots cutting grass or cleaning the pool. At times like these, they should've been around. Where were they?

A sound of an R5 cleaning robot chimes in nearby. Chrome follows the sound, and the sight isn't something he was expecting.

“You did well,” your voice feels like a cloud, floating amongst the sea of beeping robots, “thank you for your help.”

Your back faces Chrome. Crouching in front of a faceless R5 cleaning robot, you gently patted its "head", small giggles on your lips.

“You're a good robot, aren't you,” the sound of beeping seemingly mirroring an appreciative noise, “you're a very good robot.”

A sizzle comes out of the oven, to which you jump to your feet, scrambling to reach the stove. “Ah, it's getting burned!”

Chrome couldn't help but admire you; the way you move, your interactions with the robots although lifeless, and your cautiousness seemed to boost his adoration for you. It must have been his M.I.N.D., but the sunlight on your toes, his shirt that fits you perfectly despite being too big for you, and the smile as you tasted whatever you were cooking — it hits him harder. The want, the like, the adoration for someone he could never think he'd fall for. The feeling that his chest had earlier disappeared; only warmth began to repair its fractured roots.

“Chrome?” Your quiet voice called out, the beep of the robot chiming in, “you're awake.”

“And you're here.”

Is this what pining feels like? An unspoken feeling that settles deep between the distances of the two of you. He knows he shouldn't hope, when a night drowned in alcohol remembers nothing. Yet, the way your eyes seem to tell him something, he hopes to cling onto whatever was left in his pride.

“Good morning,” he spoke, aware of his morning voice now, “I apologize that you had to be the one to cook.”

“N-no, it's alright! The robots mostly did the work. I merely supported them.”

“Still,” he slowly approached you, timid footsteps leading to you, “the fact that you treat them as if they're human too speaks a lot.”

“It's even a surprise that they show no hostility to you. They are trained to fend off those who are unfamiliar in the household.”

“Commandant [Y/N] is welcomed.” the robot from earlier chirped, “helped us with housework.”

“Mr. Smith also invited me here once in a while to talk about politics.” You shrugged, opting to pat the robot once more, “I just did a favor for them.”

You nodded to it, to which it purrs in your touch. Satisfied, it happily trots away, probably deciding to work elsewhere.

Another silence. You've decided to go back and finish cooking the food, but the fire had long been doused (probably from the advancement of this stove?). Chrome wants to talk, yet no words could be formulated in his head. After the agonizing long silence, you took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“I remember what happened last night.”

Chrome freezes. He looks up to meet your guilty eyes looking elsewhere. “You do?”

“I...am regretful that I puked on you. That's why I decided to clean up here as an exchange.”

Ah, so you don't remember what happened afterwards. Chrome's heart sinks, before noticing you looking away, and a creeping blush on your cheeks.

“I...also remember that I asked you to take a bath with me.”

Memories of last night came crashing over his M.I.N.D. The garden, the bed, the bathtub, the hair dryer, and your skin — all a mixture of things that only makes him go haywire. His blush mirrors yours; that means one more thing.

“I also remember telling you how I feel.” You began, “and I...”

The sinker comes. And Chrome's heartbeat isn't sure now. But you - you approached him, eyes down, figure covered, but reaching out to him. With shallow breaths, you raised your hand to his chest, before looking up. And there - your eyes meet his. Same innocent, shimmering eyes looking at him with vigor, with enchantment; he forgets how to breathe.

“I like you, Chrome.”

You've said it once more. Sober, genuine, and true. And it breaks Chrome's heart into pieces, folded and mashed into dough, before it forms in the shape of a heart. You've set the oven now; his feelings are ready to be baked, ready to be eaten - and he wants you. No, he needs you to be the one to take it.

“I still like you, even when I'm drunk or sober. I want to be with you all the time. I want you, Chrome. I want you to be part of the future that I am building.”

Wordlessly, he captures your hips and pulls you close, him leaning down just so the proximity knows no bounds. He feels your breath ghost his lips, your heartbeat in his ribcage - it beats, and beats, and beats so loudly he forgets you're in the kitchen at daylight; in a house he's grown up with no love, but he's here now. Creating a love that no Smith can forge.

“A concrete object made of materials and information, whose borders are continuously constructed and reconstructed,” said the definition for 'Smith'. He could live in that definition forever, but what about Chrome?

“I am forging a new one.” He whispers, “I am...bridging the new future with you.”

Your eyes are shining, and there he knew-

“I like you, too, [Y/N].”

If only bodies were capable of seeing what's happening underneath, a cadenza ringing in Chrome's heart, beating furiously for you, only you. You smiled, a mischievous gaze written across your face.

“Does the offer about me doing anything I want when I'm sober still stand?”

He smiles back. “Of course.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Tiptoeing to reach Chrome's height, you craned your neck and tugged his shoulder. But Chrome is kind; he hoists you up by the hips, capturing your lips in an instant.

Sweet is a word to describe the first kiss Chrome shared with someone in his life. Forget the war, forget that you're on the kitchen island; it's only two lovers baring their adoration for one another, sharing a kiss blessed in daylight. It's warm, it's soft, it's needy - the way you both melt into each other, how you wrapped your arms around his neck, or how his hands are holding you up. Enchanted, Chrome's M.I.N.D. echoes, it's really enchanting.

Satiated, you both pull away, breathless, as your foreheads touch. He doesn't let you go, though. You (unfortunately) do, when the other kitchen door opens, a parade of little robots bursting through the door.

You cheer as the little robots go through the surprise: a small banner written "Happy Birthday!" hastily, and the cake you baked earlier with the robots. Chrome looks at you confused, before noticing what the parade had brought.

“How-”

“Happy birthday, Chrome,” You beamed, hands cupping his cheeks, “you deserve the celebration.”

“Thank you.” He whispers on your chin, leaving little kisses there, “I really appreciate this...I appreciate you.”

“You should enjoy today.” You winked, “my birthday present to you is for later.”

“Later?”

You squeezed his arm. He blushes. “Yes, later.”

Chrome is thankful his heart doesn't need to somersault out of his chest now. At least, until later.

HAPPY LATE ACTIVATION DAY CHROME!!!!!! please like, reblog, share, comment down on this post! don't copy and plagiarize my work!!

#pgr #pgr commandant #punishing gray raven #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr global #pgr cn #pgr chrome #pgr chrome glory #pgr chrome x reader #pgr arclight #HAPPY ACTIVATION DAY CHROME!!!#pgr x reader

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illarian-rambling · 6 days

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Thanks for the tag @phoenixradiant!

OC Interview

I've been seeing people do two characters at once, so I'll do Sepo and Izjik as a pair :)

Are you named after anyone?

Izjik: "My name is a common one where I'm from, but I don't think I was named after anyone specific, no."

Sepo: "If I was, my mother croaked before she could tell me."

When was the last time you cried?

Izjik: "I dropped a bag of hammers on my foot at work the other day and spirits, they probably heard be about ten miles over!"

Sepo: "I don't cry."

Izjik: "Yes the fuck you do? Broody bastard. I saw you tearing up when we went and saw that new band. You cried last time you had to deal with the bounty guild because the guild leader makes you so damn angry. I know for a fact you get weepy every time you get so much as three drinks in you."

Sepo: "...no comment. Bitch."

Do you have kids?

Sepo: "You'd fucking think we do looking after Twenari. And she's not even half the trouble Djek is - and he's a grown-ass man."

Izjik: "Cut him some slack, he's like nineteen. But yeah, two kids pretty much. I've even been to a PTA meeting! That makes me certified parental material!"

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sepo: "Nooo, never..."

Izjik: "Low hanging fruit, my guy. I'm usually not sarcastic, though - it's not my style."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Izjik: "If they're going to try to kill and eat me."

Sepo: "Ditto. Then I move on to what makes them annoying."

Izjik: "You're so negative, you know that? My second impression is their hands. You can tell a lot about a person based on their hands."

What is your eye color?

Izjik: "Kind of a blue gray? Slate, Twenari calls it."

Sepo: "Sirens all have eyes of black."

Izjik: "And a good thing to, given how stupid big your pupils are."

Sepo: "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Izjik: "If you had blue eyes, you'd look kinda silly is what I mean."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Sepo: "Scary, though it takes a lot to phase me."

Izjik: "Bullshit, you jump every time the camera angle changes. I like scary too, but with happy endings. Things can get bad, yeah, but it's always good to see folks making it out in the end."

Any special talents?

Izjik: "I can do a one-handed pushup!"

Sepo: "That's because one of your hands hardly works."

Izjik: "You're just a hater because you can't do one. That can be your special talent - being a hater."

Sepo: "Yes, fine, let's brush over my musical composition abilities and skills in veterinary medicine. My true special talent is being a hater."

Izjik: "Damn straight."

Where were you born?

Izjik: "The enclave of Edeme’eneha, deep in the N'Diki swamp. I think it was a lovely place to grow up, all in all. I really miss it sometimes."

Sepo: "I was born in a brothel basement in the Ulahdrian capital city of Seluthena, the largest metropolis beneath the waves. I... I also miss it sometimes."

Do you have any pets?

Izjik: "Nah. I never really got the concept of an animal you don't eat."

Sepo: "Landhorse is more of a business partner. She gets me where I need to be, and in exchange, I give her food, shelter, and pet her sweet nose from time to time. She's the best of horses, a gentlewoman among beasts."

What sort of sports do you play?

Izjik: "Does fighting for fun count? There's this bar I like where I can always get into a scrap if I'm looking for one. I think people have started placing bets every time I walk in."

Sepo: "I would go on cross-country camping trips when I was a teen in the Saryimastra Seat. That involved swimming for a few days at least, so I suppose it could be a sport. I found it very relaxing, escaping from all the noise and fuss of the temple. Sometimes Saius would go with me, but usually, I'd go off on my own."

How tall are you?

Izjik: "Tall enough to skin my fist on your teeth, lanky ass!"

Sepo: "You are five foot two. I'm six foot five. I really don't think you are."

What was your favorite subject in school?

Izjik: "I never went, but I liked learning how to set snares during my apprenticeship. It was the only thing I'd sit still for. Looking back, maybe that's why Dzako had me learn so many."

Sepo: "My education was rather... propaganda-filled. Most of the history I enjoyed learning turned out to be false. A lot of the books I read were horribly censored, though I didn't know it at the time. I suppose music. You can twist the words and intentions of music to whatever aims you wish, but the heart of it is always pure."

What is your dream job?

Izjik: "I mean, whatever gets me paid and let's me work outside. I heard Twenari talking once about these people called potion hunters? Apparently, they hunt magical plants and animals for alchemists to use in their work. That sounds like a hell of a lot of fun!"

Sepo: "I've... This is going to sound stupid, but I've always wanted to compose my own songs. In Ulahdris, music was strictly regulated and created by the church. But here on the surface? It's chaos. Any asshole with a kazoo can play whatever he wants. I... Oh, it's all nonsense anyways. I'm fine doing what I need to in order to survive."

Izjik: "You've gotta let yourself live a little, Sepo. I'd love to hear your music!"

Sepo: "Truly? Then... Then perhaps someday, I'll work up the courage."

World's most married platonic soulmates, for real. I'll tag @kaylinalexanderbooks @mk-writes-stuff @sleepyowlwrites @corinneglass and anyone else who wants to play :)

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #oc interview

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 2 years

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Moments: One

Note: It's here (and about an hour later than I expected to get it up... my toddler did NOT want to go to bed)!

I'm so excited for this little story; it'll likely be 6 parts total, but I have 4 drafted now. I have a general timeline, some of the pictures I use won't be accurate, I'll get things wrong, and I'll omit things that should've been part of the narrative. I hope you can just embrace some fiction and enjoy it with me.

Reader is female, but I've tried to keep her description as vague and I'm trying to be sure to use a variety of types of women in the picture inserts.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.5k

Please leave me some feedback, I'd love your thoughts! Happy Thursday!

Moment's Masterlist

One 1997: Killington Ski Resort

They say that you encounter your soulmate three times before you meet them. It may be a short conversation while waiting for a sandwich at a deli down the street. Or perhaps it is as children, playing in a hotel pool on a “once-in-a-lifetime vacation”. It may be a blind date gone horribly wrong, only to have the evening salvaged by a stranger at a bar.

In other instances, the encounters involve no contact: passing strangers on a sidewalk, concert goers in the same row, children at the same playground, and passengers on a train platform.

For some people, those moments are spaced a lifetime apart. For others, mere hours. And for some lonely folks, the introduction never happens; they’re never introduced, they never take the risk, or their circumstances don’t allow for the universe to do its job and put these two souls together.

Those three moments, be they brief moments or a whole evening, can link a couple together forever.

When the sun was up, it had been a balmy 29 degrees today, but now that the sun was quickly dipping below the mountain, the wind picked up and the temperatures were dropping. Chris pulled his goggles off his head and waited for Scott to get to the bottom of the trail. It was Scott’s first outing on a snowboard and it was taking all of Chris’s energy to be a good, supportive coach. In reality, Chris wanted to take off and leave him behind; he could’ve done at least twice as many runs if he hadn’t been waiting on Scott all day.

He saw his dad outside the lodge waving him over and got to him just as Scott appeared over the last ridge. “You guys want to do one more?”

Chris nodded, “I do, I’m not sure what Scott’ll want, but can I go one more time?”

“Sure, we’re going to head back on the shuttle. I expect you both back at the condo in the next 45 minutes.”

Chris agreed and watched his dad and sisters shuffle towards the shuttle that would take them back to the condos. He turned and saw Scott scooting towards him and couldn’t help but laugh. “One more run?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve finally got it.”

Rolling his eyes, he dragged Scott to the lift line. With the sun almost entirely gone now, the line was much shorter than it had been all day. It was the Saturday of President’s Day weekend; an annual tradition for the Evans crew to hit the slopes for the weekend, but they always knew going into it that it would be a crowded weekend with long lines. It didn’t matter though, Chris just loved being outside. At 16, he was also invincible and full of energy. He’d stay out here all day if his parents would let him.

In line, he mostly ignored Scott babbling about what dinner might be waiting for them at the condo; he was too focused on trying to see the girl in front of them. She was around his age, with long hair poking out from under her helmet. Her pink ski jacket and black snow pants left more than a lot to his imagination but with his “sexually active” card newly stamped, girls were just about all he could think about. Her laugh had caught his attention when they got into line; she was giggling at a joke the older man with her had made and since then, Chris hadn’t torn his eyes away from her. He watched the way she threw her head back to laugh loudly, he watched the way she was constantly moving, checking out her surroundings, pointing things out to the man with her; she talked with her hands and Chris found himself straining to try to hear her conversation.

“Chris?” Scott shoved him, making him slide a few feet forward and bump into the man in front of him.

“Sorry,” Chris muttered when both he and the girl turned around. The girl smiled shyly while the man eyed the boys; Chris shot a glare at Scott.

Scott mumbled his own apology and they both turned back around just as Chris punched Scott in the arm, “asshole.”

“I said I was sorry!” Scott yelped, rubbing his arm, “You weren’t paying attention to me, you were just staring at her!”

“SCOTT!” Chris groaned through gritted teeth, glancing to see if she’d heard.

She had. Damn it. She was glancing over her shoulder at the brothers, hiding a smile and blushing in the most adorable way Chris had ever seen. He gave her an embarrassed wave while he felt himself turning red. The second she turned back around, he punched Scott again.

“Ow,” Scott whined, rubbing his arm again. Chris ignored him and returned his mission to staring at the back of her head and hoping that his powers of telekinesis were finally working and he could get her to look at him again.

Up until that moment, when she found out the cute boy behind her was staring at her, all Y/N could think about was how annoyed she was that her cousins and parents had bailed on her and left her with Uncle Chuck. Not that he was bad, he was actually super fun and she had to admit, she was having a good time joking with him. Y/N was the youngest of the cousins but the best skier. She was also the most empathetic. Chuck’s wife had asked for a separation just days before the annual Y/L/N ski trip so he was here with his two teenagers who just wanted to try to steal from the mini bar and try to get drunk without the adults noticing. Chuck was taking his angst out on the slopes and for a while, Y/N hadn’t minded. But now that everyone else was back in the lodge, showered, and probably eating, she couldn’t help but pout.

But here she was, in line at the lift, listening to the boys behind her bicker and trying to keep things light for her uncle. They’d been joking about her dad, Chuck’s brother, for a while– he was an easy target with his bad dad jokes and weird obsession with restaurants that offered more than one style of BBQ sauce. When one of the boys had jostled Chuck, he whipped his head around looking more intimidating than he was. At 6’5”, her uncle’s lumberjack appearance was all show. He was just a teddy bear, but these boys didn’t know that. She was sure he looked terrifying.

Chuck had shot them both a glare and turned back to the front of the line while she kept glancing over her shoulder. The boys were both cute, probably somewhere around her age, maybe a little older. The taller one– the one who’d bumped into Chuck– had been blatantly staring at her during this interaction. She knew she was blushing, but she didn’t care. She liked his attention.

She was still getting used to attention like this. In middle school, she’d been in the smart classes but was always afraid to raise her hand in class. She liked getting lost in a book as much as she liked getting outside and moving. Her body was in constant motion, even when she was reading she was tapping her foot, fidgeting with her hair, or twisting her ring around her finger over and over again. She had her small group of friends who stayed to themselves and had the same Friday every week: Blockbuster, ice cream, and sleepovers.

But now that she was in high school, Y/N was a good little basketball player– good enough to have schools already interested in her as a freshman– and somewhere between the first day of high school and now, she’d noticed boys… and sometimes girls… staring at her. Groups of people she hardly knew came to her basketball games and waited to talk to her after. She was the only freshman on the varsity team and was already a starter; the older girls on the team had taken to her fairly quickly and adopted her into their groups of friends. She wasn’t sure what to do with the attention, but she knew she liked getting it from this cute boy behind her.

Y/N and Chuck boarded the lift, the brothers behind them still squabbling as she and Chuck left the platform. Y/N pulled her gaiter up around her nose and ears to protect her from the rush of cold air on the lift. They rode in silence, both of them lost in thought and at the top of the mountain, they disembarked and headed towards The Jug– both of their favorite trails.

Uncle Chuck slowed, clicking his boot out, “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the lodge. My sock is all bunched up.”

Y/N nodded and took off, enjoying a moment to herself. She’d been with her brothers, her cousins, or her uncle all day. Everyone wanted to parallel ski or talk on the lift. It was kind of nice to have a minute alone to enjoy the sunset over the mountain. She was in no particular rush, staying off to the side and thinking that Uncle Chuck might catch up to her.

Not far behind her, Chris and Scott were disembarking the lift, headed in the same direction.

“I’ve got this,” Scott assured Chris, “I can do The Jug.”

“Scott, it's a black trail, are you sure? You’re still new.”

Scott was emphatic, “absolutely, I’ve definitely got the hang of it now. This is our last one tonight; tomorrow will be too crowded again. Let’s go!”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive!” Scott whooshed by Chris to the top of the path and around a turn. Chris trailed him, keeping a close eye on him. He watched as Scott took the start of the trail smoothly, crisply moving around a group. He was about 100 yards ahead of Chris and the mountain was getting steep quickly.

“Slow down, Scott!” Chris called, leaning in to pick up speed to be ready to help, “Scott!”

“I’m fine,” Scott yelled over his shoulder, half turning to find Chris. It was in that half turn that he started to wobble. He found his balance fairly quickly but was also picking up speed.

“Scott!” Chris yelled again, moving between people. Scott was starting to flail and struggle to regain control. Chris could see Scott pointed towards the edge of the trail and the woods; he knew that he’d told his brother to drop on his ass if he was out of control, but Scott wasn’t dropping. Chris also couldn’t see the pink ski jacket he’d been staring at was directly in Scott’s path.

“LOOK OUT!” He heard his brother yell; Scott was now leaning backward, trying to fall on his butt but clearly nervous about the impact. It was then that Chris could see her. Panic coursed through him. This was going to be his fault. He’d taught Scott to snowboard, he’d let him go on this difficult slope, he’d gotten lazy and tired of being in charge of Scott so he’d let him go ahead, and now he was going to be the reason she got hurt. Chris started yelling too as he willed himself to pick up more speed.

Her head turned too late; a snowboarder was plowing down the mountain right towards her. Her brain didn’t work fast enough; he was flailing and yelling, trying to slow himself down the steep incline. He dropped to his butt just feet in front of her, “Ohmygodohmygodohmyoooodddddd,” he yelled when he collided with her. He took her out by the ankles, she felt pain slice up her leg as she landed directly on top of him; they slid a few more feet, thankfully going slower due to all of the things they were dragging through the snow, and his snowboard took the impact of a tree at the edge of the trail. They bounced slightly, both of them jostled and tangled.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, oh shit, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Oh god,” it was one of the brothers from the lift line; he kept pushing at her, trying to get them untangled. He kept repeating, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never snowboarded before.” If it wasn’t so painful, it would’ve been funny: they were a pile of neon fleece and polyester unable to fully move their limbs because of the thickness of their snow clothes. Every time one of them moved, it shoved the other, so every time one of them successfully untangled one part of their clump, another thing got stuck together.

“Hold on,” she muttered to him, unable to get up to unclip her boots and therefore unable to get to her feet, “I can’t reach my boots.”

“Here, let me see if I can,” he said, trying to reach around her; she yelped and he immediately stopped. “Oh god, are you hurt?”

Before Y/N could answer she heard, “Scott, you idiot,” the other brother called as he came to a stop beside them. He immediately reached down and unclipped her boots from her skis before offering her a hand, “are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her to her feet and held her shoulders as she tried to regain her balance. She was about to nod when she finally got her feet under her and pain shot through her ankle as it gave out. “Shit,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and holding her. “What’s wrong?”

“It's my ankle. I’m sure it’s fine,” she waved him off before she tried to pull away from him to stand on her own. She winced again and slumped again, his arm quickly tightening around her.

“Way to go, Scott,” he snapped at his brother, who was still now on his knees and trying to stand. “Take her skis,” he said to his brother before turning to her, “I’ll get you down the mountain.”

“What?” Y/N asked and shook her head, “no, I’m fine, I can get down.”

He paused and dropped his head so he could make eye contact with her, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied, watching his blue eyes as a smile crept on his face.

“Well, Y/N, I’m Chris. The asshole who tried to kill you is my brother Scott. I’d really like it if you let me take you to the bottom of the mountain and get you checked out with the medics.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, I can just walk down or something,” she waved him off again and started to pull away from him, “thank you though.”

Scott piped up, now standing again next to her and holding her skis and poles, “please? I don’t want you to get more injured. Who are you here with? I can go get them and bring them to you. Or I can get a ski patrol.”

“Or,” Chris offered, “I can put you on my board and have you at the bottom of the mountain safely in no time. I promise you won’t get hurt with me. Do you trust me?” He held out his hand.

Y/N giggled, “Did you just quote Aladdin?”

Even in the fading light, she could see his blush, “maybe.”

“Fine.”

“Really? That worked?” She couldn't help noticing how genuinely surprised he seemed.

“Get me to the bottom safely, please,” Y/N gingerly stepped her good foot onto his snowboard and let him take her weight against him as he pulled her the rest of the way. It took them a minute to get into a comfortable position with her back against him; she was so much shorter he could see over her head easily. He tightened his grip on her, trying to calm his nerves. He’d promised to get her down safely, and now he had to deliver. He took off carefully, holding her waist to keep the weight off her leg and moving them very slowly down the side of the trail. His legs burned from the effort of keeping them slow, holding her upright, and trying to appear much more cavalier than he felt. It took far longer than normal to reach the bottom, and every bounce pushed them into each other making them both tense. By the time they were at the bottom, they were both flustered and blushing from the proximity.

When he was unattached from his snowboard, he turned to her, “why don’t you get on my back. I’ll take you to the first aid station.”

Y/N hesitated. It was one thing to be pressed up against him for the sake of getting to the bottom of the mountain. It was another to climb up on his back, in public, and parade through the lodge. “No, no, no, I can walk.”

He already had his back to her, reaching his arms around behind him. He looked over his shoulder, “we made it this far, let’s get all the way to the finish.”

Y/N was glad his back was to her because she was blushing furiously. She could hardly breathe. His arms around her waist the whole way down, his breath in her ear, his chest in her back… she’d been overwhelmed by his closeness and his touch. He had to be at least 16, a few years older than her, with the most adorable smile she’d ever seen and the brightest blue eyes. This sweet gesture was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced and she had no idea how to act. She was trying not to let him see how nervous he made her.

He was still waiting for her, his back to her with his arms outstretched, and she heard him call her name softly. She nodded and reached for him while he bent down and she put her arms around his neck. “On three,” he said, leaning down further, “one… two…”

“Three,” Chris said, wrapping his fingers around her thighs as she hopped onto his back. He was sweating profusely from the exertion of a day on the slopes and now from having a cute girl pressed up against him for the last 15 minutes. It was impossible not to notice her little dimples or her blushes every time he made eye contact with her.

Thank God Scott can’t snowboard… Chris didn’t want her to be hurt, but he was excited for a chance to spend a few minutes away from his dumbass brother while he helped Y/N.

“Here we go!” Chris started to gallop into the lodge towards the first aid station.

Oh my God… I started to gallop… like a horse… shit. Chris thought to himself. This is so embarrassing. Oh, God. Oh, but she’s giggling. Okay, I guess I’m galloping now…

The first aid station was at the back of the lodge; he got her there and held tightly onto her legs, not allowing her to slide down his back, “I’m not putting you down until you’re with a medical professional. You’re not walking around on that ankle.”

“Chris,” she meant to whine but hearing her say his name like that made Chris’s heart thump harder.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Not until you’re with someone.”

She huffed a sigh but dropped her chin on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was on the brink of melting into the floor from the overstimulation of cuteness she radiated or if he was grateful for the many layers of protection his snow suit provided from anyone seeing his growing hard-on.

They got her checked in and Chis finally let her slide off his back and onto a cot, but he sat down next to her. “Thanks,” she said quietly, catching his eye and giving him another delicious blush. He noticed she was a little teary-eyed; she must’ve been in more pain than she let on.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N shrugged, “not great, I’m hoping it isn’t broken.”

“That would suck,” Chris agreed, trying and failing to think of anything to say to her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a joke or anything remotely witty. He thought about reaching out to take her hand, but his own were sweating too much. He settled for nervously rubbing his hands along his thighs and glancing back at her. She averted her eyes quickly and they both nervously giggled.

“You really don’t have to stay with me,” she forced herself to make eye contact with him. Out loud, she’d told him to go, but in her head, she prayed he’d stay next to her a little longer. His presence made her feel comfortable.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“NO!” she answered too quickly and recalibrated, “no, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay. I’ll be okay. Is Scott okay?”

Chris turned his body to face her squarely, “I’m happy right where I am. Scott is fine.”

“Okay,” she whispered, twisting her hands in her lap and willing herself to say more. God, she was so nervous. The way he looked at her made her pulse race. For as much as her ankle hurt, all she could think about was how dry her mouth was and how much she hoped he’d hold her hand, put his arm around her, or do anything to initiate contact again.

“So, uh,” Chris tapped his fingers on his legs, trying to channel his nervous energy. “Are you from Vermont?”

“No, I live in Maryland.” She said quickly and forced herself to continue the conversation, “What about you?”

“Massachusetts. We come up to ski on President's Day weekend every year.”

Y/N nodded, “we usually stay closer to home but my parents wanted to do something different this year.”

They were both silent for a few seconds, each of them anxiously racking their brains for how to prolong this moment. The door to the examination room opened at that moment and a nurse practitioner came in, “well, Miss Y/N, I hear you took a tumble? Let’s take a look.” She started to pull out her stool and move towards Y/N, “I’m going to take your boot off, okay?”

Y/N sat up straighter and nodded to the NP while Chris jumped off the cot, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I get your parents? Are they in the lodge somewhere?”

“I think my parents took the shuttle back to the hotel, but my uncle was behind me. I’m sure he’s waiting for me by now.” She winced when the boot slid off, clenching her teeth. Tears formed in her eyes again and Chris returned to his spot next to her. He tentatively put an arm around her; without another thought, Y/N leaned into him and whimpered quietly while the practitioner manipulated her ankle. She looked up at Y/N sympathetically and then at Chris, “were you getting her uncle?”

“Oh, right,” Chris slid his arm away from Y/N. Tears were tracking down her face and he didn’t want to leave her. This girl he’d known less than an hour was now his only concern.

“The guy you were in line with is your uncle, right? What’s his name?”

“Chuck Y/L/N. He’s a really tall guy in a red snow jacket and–” she cut herself off when he came storming into the room with Scott hot on his heels.

“Y/N,” he barked, “are you alright? I heard what happened. This one–” he pointed behind him at Scott, “ –found me.”

“I’m okay, we just got started.” She gestured to the nurse practitioner who was still gently moving her foot and ankle, each time making Y/N wince or yelp.

“Damn snowboarders,” he glared at Chris and Scott before he pushed by Chris and sat down next to Y/N, “think they own the whole mountain. Goodbye, boys.”

“Uncle Chuck–,” Y/N started, looking up at Chris but Chuck cut her off with a stern, “goodbye,” before he started talking to the practitioner and asking questions.

Chris gave Y/N one last look and a wink; Scott apologized for the millionth time and waved half-heartedly before heading to gather their belongings and go to the shuttle. On the short ride from one side of the Killington property to the other, Scott talked the whole way, lamenting and then complaining of his own injury. Chris tried to sympathize with him, and he tried to listen, but he kept thinking about Y/N.

He thought about her all the way through dinner and a round of video games after dinner. He thought about her as he got ready for bed, and he was still thinking about her when he fell asleep. Maybe he’d come back from this long weekend to find that a new student was enrolled at school… Y/N. In his daydream, he was of course the one the guidance counselor called to show her around campus, which led to inviting her to eat lunch with him and his buddies, which led to asking her to go to the mall after school, which led to going to the movies that weekend, which led to kissing her goodnight, which led to…

Y/N however, had spent the rest of the day and well into the evening at the local hospital. The nurse practitioner had determined her ankle was likely broken and had advised her to be taken for X-rays. The emergency room staff confirmed it after several hours in the ER, and by the time it was set and she was in a cast with crutches, it was almost midnight. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. She’d begged and pleaded with her parents not to try to find the boy who’d done it; that it was an accident and they didn’t need to contact his parents and try to “decide how to deal with it.” After a very tearful conversation, her mother had finally convinced her father to drop the subject and let them get on with their weekend.

By the next morning, her mother had profusely offered to stay with her, rent movies and hang out in the condo with her, or take her shopping, but she’d decided to stay in the lodge and read her book with hot chocolate and the roaring fire. Her family left to ski for the day, her parents promising to come back and check on her at lunch. She was trying not to mope and moan, particularly because her dad and Uncle Chuck were still discussing the idea of talking to Scott and Chris’s parents. God, the last thing she needed was them to threaten to sue them. She knew it was all out of care, but both men could be a little overzealous. Y/N was certainly disappointed that Chris lived in Massachusetts and she was in Maryland, but she didn’t want them to stay in touch over a lawsuit.

She’d hobbled to the lobby and settled in front of the fire, and was about a chapter into her book when she felt the couch cushion beside her dip with the weight of a new body. They were way too close; who does that? Who sits down directly next to someone when there are multiple couches and oversized chairs? She peaked out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help the grin that slid on her face. Chris was next to her, his own book open, and he was casually reading with a giant smirk on his face. He didn’t look at her immediately, instead, he continued to read and flipped the page dramatically.

Y/N continued to grin, knowing she was also blushing and feeling her whole body start to sweat, but she turned back to her book and forced herself to read. Another page in, and she felt his eyes on her. She continued her charade just as he had, and continued to read. He huffed a sigh and dropped his book in his lap to cross his arms. She picked up a piece of hair on her shoulder and twirled it around her finger, hoping it seemed casual and cool, while she finished her chapter. When she was done, she quietly put her book in her lap, picked up her hot chocolate, took a sip, and looked at him over the rim of the mug.

“Oh hey,” she whispered, hoping she sounded cooler than she felt.

“Hey yourself. Good book?”

She nodded and stared at him for a minute, taking in his perfectly gelled hair, his big handsome smile, and his captivating blue eyes. “Why aren’t you out there?” She gestured towards the huge windows next to them.

“I saw you when we left breakfast downstairs. I thought you might need some company today. You know, since Scott tried to kill you. I feel responsible for you.”

“Shouldn’t Scott feel responsible for me?”

“He’s proven that he can’t be trusted,” Chris pointed to her ankle, which was propped on the coffee table. There was a lull in conversation; Y/N was tapping her fingers on the cover of her book. Chris started to reach out to her and pulled his hand back; after taking a deep breath, he tried again and covered her hand with his. “I was also hoping you’d want to hang out with me.”

Words, Y/N. Any words right now. Say anything, you have to say something, oh my god he wants to hang out with you SAY SOMETHING. Y/N’s whole body froze as she stared at his hand on hers and his eyes fixed hard on her face. She had to be the color of a tomato right now. She had to be sweating. Could he feel that? Could he tell she was sweating? Were the tops of her hands as sweaty as her palms?

She settled for a shy nod and another lull settled over them, this one was more comfortable. She spilled her hot chocolate and they traded a few lines back and forth about the snow and how nice the fire felt. Finally, Y/N said, “let’s play 20 questions.”

“Isn’t that the game where you try to guess an object or something? You know like ‘is it bigger than a bread box?’”

She rolled her eyes, “I guess that’s the wrong name, but how about this: we each ask a question and both of us have to answer.”

“I’ll go first,” he agreed, looking around the room before he settled on his first question, “when’s your birthday?”

“April 2. You?”

“June 13. Your turn.” They went back and forth, moving into books and tv shows they watched, how they spent time with friends, and what their hobbies were. Y/N was fidgeting constantly, entirely unable to get comfortable and Chris kept jumping up to help her adjust her propped-up leg.

After Y/N finished telling a story about a time her social studies teacher split his pants during class, Chris’s laughter subsided and he smirked, “who was your first kiss?”

She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, “Kyle Brown. We were in 4th grade. It was the last day of school, he spent all day literally pulling my ponytail, then he kissed me on the bus, got off, and moved away. I never saw him again.”

Chris cackled, “what a chicken. If I was going to kiss you, I’d make sure I’d see you again every day.”

Y/N felt herself redden from the tips of her toes all the way to her hair; at the same time, her heart dropped. He said if he was going to kiss her. Meaning it was a hypothetical statement... Meaning he wasn’t going to kiss her. In this afternoon spent together on this sofa, she’d been convinced he was flirting and was convinced he’d kiss her. She stared down at her hands, trying to force a smile while she listened to his answer.

“Y/N?” He asked after she’d been quiet for a moment. She looked up and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ve been quiet for like a whole minute,” he laughed, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, I should just go back to the condo, I need to take some painkillers,” she started to stand up, reaching for her crutches that Chris thrust at her.

“Let me walk you back, I can help you get your meds and get you settled. Will you be alone?”

“It’s okay, I can get back on my own,” her voice was quiet while she tried to be sure she had everything. “Thanks for sitting with me today.”

“But I–”

She had already started to move away from him and he followed her, navigating around furniture and people; she tried to pick up her pace. She was embarrassed and sad that she’d misinterpreted the time together and even more embarrassed that she’d gotten her hopes up that a boy from Massachusetts would kiss her. It’s not like anything could come of it.

“Bye, Chris,” she glanced over her shoulder and said it as firmly as possible before starting to move again. He stopped in his tracks and just stared at her, watching her walk out of the lobby and into the wind.

#chris evans fanfic #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans series #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans drabble #christopher robert evans #chrisevans

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bolters-and-rivets · 1 year

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You know, I've never spoken about my history or the place I'm now at, let's remedy that

I first made this Tumblr during a very turbulant part of my life and I kept putting off some form of formal introduction post, telling myself I'd get round to it later when I was good and settled Well, it's now later, and I'm settled

OK, so, for the past, IDK, 5 years? I'd had a deep seated feeling of wanting to escape my home without realising what I was wanting. I'd plan ambitious holidays exploring europe or just cassually wonder how much I'd have to save to move abroad and buy a house. it took a lot of searching to come to the realisation, but the gist of it is I was being emotionally and financially manipulated by my mother.

if folks are really interested in exactly what I went through, then I'll post a follow up, I have no problem talking about it, but I'm happy to move on for the moment. long story short, I came to the realisation that I was stuck in the situation I was. I was also EXTREMELY lucky enough to have freinds who got me in touch with freinds and collectively were able to offer transport, accomodation, and financial support whilst I got back on my feet. I'm not mentioning names, but those on Tumblr know who they are, and if you're reading this, you're family to me and I love you. In a blindingly quick timeframe we planned a get-away, I like to joke that it was like the great escape, but it honestly consisted of a month's serious planning whilst I subtly gathered everything I needed and wanted together, my actual getaway driver popped round for a visit to collect a few things and meet the folks I'd be staying with early under the excuse of going to visit a railway (which we did, it was very nice too), and then on D-Day they drove halfway across the country to wait until my parents were out the house to pick me and the last few items up. and we litterally drove off into the sunset. cue 4-5 months of sleeping on a sofa whilst I looked for a job and a place of my own. Understand I was never under any risk of being thrown out, but none of us expected I would be hanging around there for as long as I did, it was leaps above what I was used to, but it was a frustrating and stressful time for everyone involved, and I can only aplogise for the inconvenience involved in accomodating me for that long. From there I basically lucked into finding a place where I didn't need a job (a requirement for many renters for bullshit insurance reasons) that I could also afford even on universal credit. I can assure you it all happened rather mundainly and everything quietly clicked into place. for additional context, this building consists of a rather nice brick built construction, I wanna say 1930s, the hallway has a nice tiled floor, there is a spacious living room, and a communal kitchen which is very much the social heart of the building, everyone stays in seperate rooms which feature en-suit showers Dear reader, allow me to clarify how fucking blessed I feel to be in this current living situation.

Before I moved here I had two underlying fears that I would go from sharing a space with two other people to being completely isolated, which had the potential for some serious problems later down the line.

The second is admittedly more of a quality of life, but I was also scared, due to my own social anxiety and problems forming freindships in the first place, that I would be unable to source a bit of weed every now and then to try and milk some dopamine out of my abused brain.

within 30 minutes of being officially moved in I went down to the kitchen, where I proceeded to get very high whilst getting to know two of the other tennants and being introduced to the alien-to-me world of darts. consider that mission acomplished on day. I'll liken this place to being like the "frathouse beef wellington" video personified (without all the rubbish littering every surface, mind), we drink, we smoke, we listen to club and reggae, we play darts at least weekly, and we chow down on home-made food that has no rights being as good as it is coming from an enviroment as hectic as this, but that's what happens when one tennant is half-Jamaican and another is Marrocan. There also happens to be a fish & chip shop right next door, which let me tell you is a fucking dangerous prospect when you find yourself newely independant with cash to burn and no one to tell you no. I've even played DND for the first time, and I'm very eager for the next session. I'm not joking when I say this has become well and truly mission fucking acomplished for me, at this point I want for nothing more except for the current living situation to endure, and maybe to fall for someone at some point, but I'm doubtful on the latter actually happening. Don't get me wrong, my journey is far from finished, I still have a lot of healing particularly in regards to my mental health. My self-esteme is well and truly shot, but hopefully now I have the space to heal. I may have depressive episodes, but the thoughts of "I need to do X or my life is over" and "no one likes you" are gone for good, because I have the experiences to prove those thoughts wrong. Dare I say it, I feel truly safe and at ease now, which is why I feel the need to reitterate how truly grateful I am to the people who have helped me get the far and continue to help me. You know who you are, but you all showed me what family truly means, you showed me that I do have worth just by existing. I have no way of truly expressing or repaying my gratitude, but thank you.

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

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[TW: sex discussion, consensual underage sex mention, CSA as a concept]

I don't get my deal with sexuality and I'm starting to realize I behave like a survivor except I have no memory of anything of that nature, and I was wondering if anyone could shed light on why I'm like this or how I could find out the truth?

As a child I masturbated constantly and had an intense curiosity about anything sexual, but I also had a major fear of pedophiles and didn't want to be left alone with an adult even my own family - I read a lot including newspapers so I can't tell if something happened that I repressed or just being so aware of sex crimes as a concept gave me that paranoia.

The older I've gotten (I'm 27) the more confusing sexuality has become - as an autistic person the stigma around disabled folk and sex has been a constant weight, but I genuinely was a 'late bloomer' irt attraction to others and I'm still pretty lukewarm. I had sex once at 15 with my then-gf and I just went numb and dissociated even though I wanted to do it, since then I've only had LDRs and it scares me if I meet my current bf irl the same thing will happen as it's already wildly variable when I enjoy sexting and when it just makes me anxious. I once had a sobbing panic attack when he wanted to do stuff on skype (which I'd done before just fine) and that doesn't happen to a healthy adult, right? He's not overly pushy, just has a more normal drive than me, but when he initiates I never know how I'll react and I hate he has to deal with that.

I'm a trans man, and frankly if I got to go on T the change I'd be most excited for is my sex drive increasing so I won't feel so freaky as I'm always skating a line between sexual and repulsed, feeling uneasy hearing people I follow discuss their sex lives and seeing most NSFW content besides stuff that doesn't involve another real person like written fantasies or 'character x reader' content. I have a decent amount of fictional/famous crushes and self-contained fantasies to an extent that occasionally verges on hypersexual and I still masturbate a lot, so asexuality doesn't seem like the answer, besides every asexual I know loves who they are when I detest being this way.

If nothing happened I should be more normal, but I can't remember anything of that nature and it hurts to not have an explanation. I just don't wanna be broken and weird and afraid when I'm not sure I even have an excuse to act like this and if I do I don't know how I could ever find out.

Hi anon,

It's important to remember that everyone's experiences with sexuality are unique, and it's okay if you don't fully understand your own feelings and behaviors around it. You may not have experienced sexual trauma, but if you have, it could be repressed.

I want to preface by saying that when it comes to exploring possible trauma, it's essential to have the guidance and mediation of a mental health professional such as a therapist. Someone with expertise in this area could get a better sense of who you are, what you've been through, and help you explore some possible trauma. It can be very dangerous to your mental health to dig around for potentially repressed memories, because memories that are repressed are repressed for a reason. If you find something you aren't psychologically and emotionally prepared to handle, that could have a great impact on your mental health and safety (from yourself). But also, if you for whatever reason don't have trauma, it would be similarly dangerous to implant the notion that you do. And so, a therapist would be able to assist you further in finding out whether or not you have trauma, and how to process that in a healthy way.

A question that I find helpful to ask for individuals who are trying to understand sexual behavior they displayed as a child is, where did you learn what you were doing? Because while it may be expected for a pubescent child to masturbate, it's less expected for a prepubescent child to masturbate. Respectively, while "Stranger Danger" is often shoved down children's throats, it doesn't necessarily explain your major fear of pedophiles, which makes me wonder, how did you know what they were? These may be questions you don't have the answer to, and that's okay, but these could be things to explore with the help of a professional.

I also just want to say that it's okay to identify as asexual if you feel the term is fitting for you, even if you feel hypersexual at times (I'm also ace). Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction, meaning to someone in particular, which means that you can still enjoy sexual acts sometimes, they just aren't necessarily centered around a specific person. You may also already know, but asexuality is a spectrum ranging from sex-repulsed to sex-positive, and it's okay to fluctuate between these. If you feel that trauma has a role in your sexuality, you may resonate with the term caedosexual.

Please know that you are not broken or weird for having these feelings and experiences. It's okay to take the time to explore and understand your own sexuality, and seeking support from a professional can be a helpful step in that process.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw sa #tw csa

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vampiremeerkat · 2 years

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How would a reverse au situation with the Lorax and once-ler would work if it even could be a thing, like Lorax being a human and once-ler some sort of embodiment being (makes me think a bit about hexxus, but I guess once-ler would be more like the instinct of greed in people) your "not a sequel" post made me start to think about it but in a full total reverse deal

Toothy black ghosts are cool, but I already have funera.

He'd definitely be some greed-feeding trickster demon. Growth is one of human Once-ler's most defining features, so I'd give him a malleable physical form. Unaffected, he resembles a "human child" wearing a hooded onesie that looks much like the original Once-ler's weird bodysuit thing. When surrounded by selfish asses long enough, he bursts out of his attire and becomes this tall, black, maned beast. At his largest, the fabric only covers up his limbs, but it all grows back again if the transformation were to revert.

Storywise, this is a challenge. There are many story beats and personality traits to keep in mind and translate. In any case, the plot would have to revolve around a personal struggle of The Lorax.

The only setting I can come up with is that Lorax was born in Truffula, spent many years by himself, then strangers randomly show up with caravans and barbecues. More keep coming and he's so angered by the behaviour of these tourists, it attracts The Once-ler to his location -either spawned by the inconsiderate visitors or whatever thoughts are going through Lorax' mind. Is he protecting Truffula, or calling dibs on a piece of land that's not even officially his? Do his feelings touch "greed"? Doesn't matter, our boy is here to ruin all of our lives.

Upon meeting each other, he thinks Once-ler is a lost child. He allows him inside his home for a short while and his hospitality is what makes Once-ler become attached to him. He claims to have always been ignored or lashed out to, though later shows off the ability to create objects and life forms through knitting and tells The Lorax he's his toy in the literal sense of the word. Enough to give a man an existential crisis, but it's taken as a joke. Once-ler lets him know pretty early on he's not human, since he won't stop asking about his parents. I don't want the story to be about him taking care of a disguised creature, this scene is just to convey The Lorax can set aside his dislike for city folk and care for a lost "child". The reveal is not met with a huge response. Lorax accepts the spiritual world and Truffula is an unusual place by itself, so why be dismissive of this demon thing strolling around. He does ask Once-ler many times to return to the Heavens -generously assuming he's not from da land down undah.

The tourists that treat Truffula as their playground help Once-ler grow strong, but so does Lorax' weak offence against his antics. Once-ler's greediness becomes more severe and increases his size as well. He takes from the land, the tourists, and Lorax personally, and always has an excuse ready for his thievery. This Eden snake would probably love to see Lorax consider violent solutions for his entertainment, but in any case, he's the rotten little voice in his ear that insists his rage stems from his unwillingness to share Truffula. He needs to play on his insecurities, because if Lorax feels guilty and doesn't push harder to chase people away, then Once-ler has more people to potentially feed off of. Being lazy or inconsiderate is not synonymous with "greed", after all, he needs specific kinds of people to discover Truffula. He knows its remarkable plant- and wildlife will draw some "zealous" people. It takes The Lorax some time to accept human expansion is inevitable. The only right he really has is to try and educate visitors, he can't begin to threaten or chase them away. This mere man has less authority than the original Lorax, though many animals respect him for obvious reasons. Maybe the police keeps getting involved when he pushes his luck, but when he contacts them, nothing is done. The Lorax gets no support and basically everyone messes with him, so the only thing he can do for Truffula is clean up after everyone. His home is all he has in life. The work and stress become too much for this middle aged man. When his death appears inevitable, Once-ler's emotional abuse of the one person that cared for him stops being funny. Once-ler's late act of redemption here is to lead people to Lorax' body and expose them to the consequence of their behaviour. They don't question whether they played a part in it, as they all know him as a notorious nag and laughing stock, stupid enough to pick up trash all day and play doctor to even the most insignificant insect that happened to get a picnic basket dropped onto itself. Some people enjoyed leaving behind unnecessary work for The Lorax, admittedly because The Once-ler enticed them to. The game is fun when the target is just some tree-hugging Karen. Once-ler only manages to exchange a few words with the bedridden Lorax before he passes away. The political world gets involved and strict rules are implemented -or rules at all- to those who want to make use of Truffula. It becoming a regulated human establishment is not quite a complete victory for The Lorax, but well, the original Truffula couldn't get rid of its one city/town, either. Anyway, the end, this is mostly how it'd go.

#the biggering #the lorax #reboot #remake #rewritten #lorax #human #specieswapped #the once-ler #onceler #leronce #ed edd n eddy #eene #when i see you again #funera

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pearlywritings · 9 months

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So as to say... If people are interested, I could try. Also some suggestions wouldn't hurt since I never fully created a concept for him (I do so for every character for easier writing).

Do mean a concept for him personality wise or the type of story involving him?

Ah, my bad, I should've been more specific.

More like the type of story and kind of reader. Often, even if it doesn't play a big role in the plot itself, I like giving the character and reader I am gonna write about some kind of backgrounds, even if vague which would make the two work as a (potential or established) couple. It can be profession, specific personality/behavior traits, connection to background chatacters etc.

As an example - my fic Behind the wall of fallen snow we love - where I made reader the head of the Snezhnayan church (while she is from Khaenri'ah like her husband Pierro) to 1) put her in a high unreachable position for simple folks both to hide her identity and because I find it's interesting how both Pierro and she got a hold of such meaningful positions and play their own mindgames behind the scenr 2) put her on display that would make her and her husband's meetings rare to show the longing and what they have to sacrifice to still be together.

It's hard to formulate it well, cause it usually comes on a whim and I don't state in the text itself those things specifically. They just help ME picture it and write easier.

Sometimes it doesn't play a big role, because I already write established relationship, but here I'd love to hear different suggestions. Even if I don't use any of them, they'll help me to see what rings the bell to me or what I do not find interesting personally and choose the direction to head to.

So, please, do not take it to heart if I decline something - it is not with the intention to offend any of you💜

#✨asks

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gingerteaonthetardis · 2 years

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Please, continue with the kissing drama. I am intrigued!

ahahaha! listen, no offense to anyone at all—i know that describing kissing in an appealing way is hard. i'm sure i don't always succeed, even when i'm trying to avoid the usual shortcuts that annoy me. i'm sure that stuff that doesn't bother me drives some people who read my writing crazy. but.

but!!!!!!

what is up. what is up with people. why does kissing always have to be described in crazy metaphors, or using just the most aggressive language possible. just say they're kissing!!!

here are some ways i've described kisses, just as the most basic example:

At first, it’s too much for her slightly-hungover mind to keep track of. Warm mouth, nose against cheek, swipe of tongue, falling backwards, fingers knitting with hers, taste of whiskey, gasping for breath.

i feel like more people should go for capturing the essence of kissing without getting too caught up in mechanics! or:

He makes a hushed noise into her mouth. It tastes like coffee with lots of cream and sugar.

simple! because here's the thing, kissing isn't revolutionary. there's nothing super interesting, as a reader (FOR ME! IN MY OPINION!), in just A Kiss. i want to know what a kiss says about a character, or about what they've been up to, or about where they are in the world right now. i don't want metaphors for kissing; i want the kiss to be the metaphor. does that make sense?

Nipping kisses find their way up her chin, over her bottom lip, to her too-full top lip, which he holds carefully between his teeth and then releases, blood surging into the gentle indentations.

playful kissing! kissing that's experimental, indicating a certain type of mind. it's possible to get into the mechanical aspect of kissing without falling into boring pitfalls. or:

It takes only a few seconds for the kiss to shift from slow and soft to something more, almost searching, tongues darting out. Testing. As close as they are, they are still finding their way to one another.

DO YOU SEE WHAT I'M SAYING

And she can't say whether he bends to her or she rises to him. It's a moment of synchrony, when their mouths collide.

less focus on the kiss than on what it's taking to get there—mutual understanding, meeting in the middle!!! but still with the passion of a collision! kisses that establish a place in the story, in the relationship!!

The kiss landed gently—and despite his intoxication, mercifully straight—on her parted lips, and he breathed her in.

She tasted like red wine and saffron and heaven.

folks, we can describe kiss tastes without getting weird about it...

She kissed with characteristic Rose enthusiasm, taking the lead, not allowing the moment to hang suspended in any indecision once she’d made her mind up.

KISSES THAT SPEAK TO WHO THE CHARACTER IS, AND HOW THE POV CHARACTER FEELS ABOUT IT

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, kissing unhurriedly, bodies pressed together like flowers between the pages of a book.

idk, maybe i'm just as bad at describing kisses as anyone else. i know there's no one right way. i'm just tired of the same old trite descriptions that say nothing real about the characters involved, or that just plain old sound gross. (LET ME RESTATE: JUST MY OPINION.)

i'd love to hear some of the written kisses other people really like, too. what moves you?

#abbey.txt #just ranting about kisses‚ nothing to see here

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nothorses · 3 years

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Uh I don't really know where else to go for this and I know you answer asks like this a lot and you be always got something good to say so maybe you can help me? I'm trying to sort through lots of feelings on my own since I can't get a gender therapist (my mother actually recommend medicalized conversion therapy instead when I tried to come out to her so, so much for her loving her kids no matter what, right? I hope she comes around but I'm not in a position to apply force to our relationship right now)

And although I'm not like 100% male and I'm more close to enby (but with he/him pronouns) it's still an odd concept to know that people will view me one way based on exactly how I present and I'm not allowed to talk about it without it being "whining" or nonsense complaining... Because if I'm a man, or closely enough one to be precieved as one, then what right do I have to complain? I'm sure you've seen the type of conversations

I can do a lot of things now that I can't do if I'm precieved as male? Like for example women can go to the park and eat lunch and nobody bats an eye but if I a guy does it it's weird because there's kids around, ya know? It's this weird double edge sword that if I decide to go on T I'm both gaining and losing privilege and people won't take that into consideration, because people are still hung up on viewing oppression like Pokemon stats

Also I don't necessarily hate men or think men are evil or anything, but I know other people do that and other people are scared of men- and like I get it if I see some weird dude loitering around I'm locking the car too, but I don't want to be the reason a woman has to cross the street? Or the reason someone has to worry about going home late?

And don't get me wrong, I know I'm a good person, but I know as well other people don't know that... I know what checking over your shoulder on a walk is like, and I don't want to have to be the reason someone does that?

So it leaves me feeling like not only is there so much to learn, but also people are just going to hate me for who I am going to become if I go through medical transition? Like I get it, not everyone is going to like me, but I don't want people to be afraid of me?

But also if I do go on T I have absolutely 0 basis for what I might look like or how it will change me and that's a scary aspect as well, because I can think of a lot of guys I'd be happy to look like or whatever but I can think of a lot more I would be unhappy to look like and you can't pick and choose genetic reactions.. And I know the idea is all about becoming more "you" rather than the perfect version of yourself you wish you could be, but it's still the point... Is it better to live with the familiar hurt of this body and my dislikes? Or should I try essentially a new one and run the risk of hating it more in some ways?

There's like 2 central ideas here, and the one idea has a lot of little ideas coming off of it, but I know at least the first issue I presented you'll understand... The second one is a little more up in the air since appearance is such a personal thing, but I think it's not an unheard of concept... So hopefully all of that makes sense and maybe you've got some decent advice or can just help me make a little more sense to myself?

Oh boy, you’re so valid. A lot of this is very familiar, and I know you’re not alone in it at all.

I’m gonna try to organize some points here, cause I think you brought up a lot of things.

“I don’t know if I want to be perceived as a man, cause enby”

You’re right that folks are likely going to see you as a man after a certain point. It’s hard to find a middle ground where you ping as neither to the average cis person, and it’s hard to control that enough for it to be consistent.

My advice, honestly, is to make choices more based on your comfort than the highly subjective and ever-shifting concept of “passing”. I know it sucks to be perceived as something you aren’t, but your wants are probably the best starting point in the decision-making process.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to do the things I can do now if I’m perceived as a man”

This is true of transitioning in general, tbh! You will also likely be able to do things you couldn’t do before; I know folks have talked about feeling safer walking around at night, and being listened to more often by other men, once they begin to pass as men.

I also struggle with this, as a future teacher; the treatment of men in childcare is very, very different, and very stigmatized compared to female counterparts. But that, to me, is worth it. I’m willing to deal with the problems other people place on me, if it means I get to finally feel at home in my own body.

“I’m afraid of causing women distress by existing near them as a man”

Look, this is frankly just not your responsibility. Looking like a man is not an act of misogyny. Looking like a man does not make you “the reason” women do or feel anything. Those reactions are their own, and you are not responsible for mitigating them- particularly if that mitigation involves you, a trans person, forgoing transition for other people’s comfort.

You are responsible for trying to be a good person, making good decisions, and for not being misogynistic. Not the assumptions women make about you based on your appearance.

“I’m afraid I might not like how I look after I transition”

I know I agonized a lot over this, certain that I would ultimately dislike how I looked if it wasn’t up to a certain standard. I imagined my post-transition self as a stranger; someone I’d have to meet and grow to accept as myself. Even scarier was that I couldn’t opt out if I didn’t like the stranger- I’d be stuck with him forever after I made that one big decision.

But... it’s not really like that, in practice. I’m me, every single step of the way, and I have only ever felt more and more like myself as I go through this process. I feel like pre-transition me was the stranger, and the person I’m becoming now is more familiar to me than anyone I’ve ever been before.

I know that’s not an easy thing to understand or relate to from a pre-transition standpoint, but what I want you to understand is this: if you’re making this decision for the right reasons, you’re gonna be okay. If you’re pursuing your own happiness, comfort in your body, the person you want to be and the life you want to live, you’re gonna be okay.

And if you realize it was a mistake, at some point, you can undo that decision again. It’s fluid; you’re not gonna be trapped in one body forever. Transition is about agency. Trust yourself now to know what you want, and trust your future self to keep knowing what you want.

#long post #trans #SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #but the ask was already v long so I figured... like... fuck it #right?#anyway I hope this is helpful!! and thank you anon for compliments youre so sweet #Anonymous

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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So I'm curious what are some character designs you love? Not from RWBY, but just i general. I'm the same anon who got you to check out Berserk and I'd say essentially all of the designs are done damn well. Fit the character. Changes that makes sense for growth. Also make sense given the setting. Even women in armor that doesn't have those massive boob plates. Good designs impact so much subconsciously to have much we enjoy other aspects of a story.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked my never-ending need to praise Yu Yu Hakusho! :D

This long, picture-laden post needs two disclaimers going forward:

I’m not an artist. In the sense that I’m not a visual artist who knows anything about what makes character design good from a technical/community approved standpoint. This is purely based on my own, personal reaction to a beloved series.

Connected to that, I’m going into this under the assumption that people might really disagree with me (?). Based on the cartoons and anime that I see praised for character design, I don’t think YYH fits whatever list more knowledgeable viewers are pulling from. But I’m gonna lay out my thinking anyway!

Major spoilers for Yu Yu Hakusho below.

Alright let’s do this.

First off, when people start talking character design they often reference how cool a character is. Which makes sense. You want a character to be visually engaging and distinct. Something that makes you go “Wow!” whenever you look at them. However, one of the things I love about the YYH cast is how normal they are. Because they’re supposed to be normal. The trope of the main character having a crazy hair color has become so prominent that we’ve got memes about it now and that works for a lot of stories. You know who is important because, despite the assumption that they’re average people not dying their hair, they stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast.

However, normalcy is a really important part of YYH. The entire point at the start is that Yusuke is not special. He’s not unique. He’s a delinquent kid who most assume isn’t going anywhere in life. When he dies this doesn’t unlock some Super Special Backstory - you were innately amazing all along! - he just gets caught up in the plot because of a paperwork issue. The afterlife doesn’t know what to do with an asshole kid who unexpectedly saved another kid’s life so they just kind of... shuffle him around until he’s given another chance to live. Then he gets to pay back that second chance by becoming a Spirit Detective. Yeah, Yusuke is talented when it comes to fighting and spirit energy, but at the start that’s rarely emphasized outside of “He’s the best street fighter among no-name street fighters so really, it’s not impressive once you take Yusuke out of his tiny world of school parking lots and the occasional alleyway.” The takeaway is that he’s a dime-a-dozen troubled teen who got involved in the spirit world due to an impulsive act and a bunch of bureaucracy. Indeed, it’s a HUGE moment of emotional growth for Yusuke to realize that people do love him despite his supposedly average, unremarkable, and otherwise negative personality. His normal-ness - and others’ expectation that he could someday make himself great if he learns to work at it - is crucial to where Yusuke starts out. Making him visually distinct in terms of Anime Protagonist Looks would undermine a lot of that. This isn’t supposed to be a Super Special Kid Destined For Greatness. He’s just... a kid. A normal kid. A kid who has to work and learn and grow if he wants to make something of himself. So he gets black hair, brown yes, and a green school uniform. He’s pretty damn average looking.

Same with Kuwabara. Same with Keiko. Same with Atsuko. They’re just normal people going about their lives and I always appreciated that they looked the part. You can still easily tell them apart thanks to different hair colors, texture, jaw lines, and outfits, but none of them seem out of place in the average world they start out in. Which, as said, is crucial to a lot of YYH’s themes. The ones who look more visually distinct - Hiei and Botan - aren’t human. It makes sense that they wouldn’t obey these same average laws of the rest of the cast and they are our first taste of a world that, in terms of character design, will eventually get pretty wonderfully weird. They function as stepping stones.

This eventually becomes a story about the demon world and those demons wouldn’t come across as particularly scary/other if you begin the story with equally strange looking humans. Or even just “I don’t see people who look like that walking down the street” humans. Alongside many themes, there’s a contrast at work here. Yusuke stepping out into a stadium full of demons who despise him because of his species hits home when he is so clearly distinct from them. Suddenly, his normal is abnormal.

Once the ball gets rolling, Yusuke’s looks are constantly in contrast with both his environment and his inner self. He looks like a scary thug but then unexpectedly saves a life. He looks like an average human but is actually the strongest among a group of scary-looking demons. He looks like this badass spirit detective who everyone assumes with have an equally badass spirit beast but, uh...

Oh my god that’s a precious baby. By the time our cast is family and everyone accepts that Yusuke looks scarier than he actually is or ever was - once the core group is made up of not just humans but demon loving humans who are equally soft - we turn it all on its head again and reveal that Yusuke has demon blood. For the first time he looks as strange and powerful as he is. Yusuke’s normality is done away with the second he’s fully accepted his place in these worlds, throwing everything back into chaos.

Yusuke’s demon form becomes even more foreign looking when he’s being controlled by his ancestral father. The above is a Yusuke who is still Yusuke and in many respects the design reflects that: natural hair color, human body, tattoos easily covered up with a shirt. When he’s gone full Mazoku though, something dangerous, the white, wilder hair and change to his expressions ensure we read him as something feral. For the first time in the series Yusuke is truly the dangerous creature he’s pretended to be since his principal was running after him at school.

As a side-note about character costumes, we see this emphasis on normality in their outfits as well. Obviously a story like RWBY is limited by how much time/money they have for animation, but it nevertheless has an impact to see the group almost constantly in their battle gear. They’re never not the main characters of an action-fantasy show, not even while just out around town with no expectation of entering a fight.

In contrast, Yusuke and Kuwabara are often animated in everyday clothing that remind us that they’re really just teens trying to live their lives outside of this crazy nonsense. Kuwabara wasn’t even formally hired for all this! The cast wears sweaters and jackets while out and about. More formal clothes for special occasions. Jeans and t-shirts when they’re unexpectedly caught up in a fight because, you know, they’re not ready for battle every second of every day. They’re drawn like normal folks because, outside of the ring, they are.

(We’ve also got a lot of parallels between Yusuke and Kuwabara’s civilian clothing, visually reminding us that they’re far more alike than they might be willing to admit.)

Despite often changing outfits, the group maintains a basic color pallet that makes them recognizable, yet it’s also not so limited that they appear strange for sticking to one (1) color for the entire time we know them. Yusuke, like most people, is drawn to particular colors, mostly greens, yellows, and blues, so each time we see him he’s familiar while also being distinct from the last time he changed.

Hiei, as someone who initially wants nothing to do with anyone else and relies on assassin-like speed to take out his enemies, is dressed almost entirely in black. Without that bit of white in his scarf/hair you’d lose him in the shadows... which is the point.

When he opens up and actually becomes friends with the team, his color pallet starts opening up a great deal too.

And we’re shown all the little changes he starts incorporating that speak to his growth: his Jagan eye, a bandaged arm hiding his Dragon of the Darkness Flame, the necklace connecting him to Yukina.

I’ve blathered on about the outfits enough but as a quick final note: EVERYONE WEARS APPROPRIATE FIGHTING CLOTHES.

No one (even the women to my recollection) wear heels. Everything is loose-fitted and looks easy to move in. They’ve got sensible belts, bandages if they need them, and... that’s it. No unnecessary bells and whistles that distract from what’s supposed to be the story’s real draw: good fights and good characterization. Even the more elaborately styled characters (usually) look like they chose their outfits practically first and for the aesthetic after. At no point do I recall watching this show and going, “WHY would you wear that to a fight??”

Anyway, back to the designs.

The exceptions to either side of these extremes - from human normal to demon monstrous - are Genkai and Kurama, both of whom straddle the line. Genkai is someone who has pushed her spirit and body far past the norm. She’s the first human we meet who truly goes beyond that normality, even if you don’t immediately realize it. Her pink hair (such a soft color in her old age it’s not at all distracting) is a slight hint that something isn’t quite right with her. She’s obviously human... but not a normal human. Not anymore.

Those unnatural looks are emphasized in her youth when she was at the height of her power.

Genkai as a young woman has vibrantly pink hair (a bright pastel like Botan’s), a softer face, and far more emotive eyes. She looks ethereal, which fits not just her own journey to power but Togoru’s as well. Her story is intimately tied up in what that power does to the human body/soul. So Toguro starts out like this

a pretty normal looking guy who is on the far end of what the human body is naturally capable of. He’s buff as hell, but not so much that it looks unreasonable. I’ve seen body builders bigger than him. He’s the average (dehydrated...) MCU superhero. However, he ends up like this

In Togoru’s case his abnormality is explicitly presented as grotesque. Rather than giving him a cool looking characteristic that’s clearly supernatural (blue hair, an extra eye, curly horns, etc.), we’ve taken a human characteristic (muscles) and expanded them to an unnatural degree. He’s got some uncanny valley shit going on.

Paralleling Genkai, we likewise see Kurama subtly standing out among his human allies.

He’s a demon in a human’s body. By in-world logic his appearance should be just as normal as anyone else’s, but a bit of his true nature shines through. His hair is long in a style not popular in YYH’s Japan. His red is far less of a natural shade than Kuwabara’s. He carries himself with the air of someone who is ancient, because he is. His human design deliberately reflects his true demon form so when that’s finally revealed we still recognize him as Kurama.

(Same sort of work with Hiei’s demon form.)

When we look at the cast together we have an immediate, visual impression as to who is normal and who is not - and those assumptions are embedded into the story. Yusuke is someone you’d overlook in the crowd, but he’s the most powerful. Kurama is clearly other in some way, but he’s desperate to live an average, human life. Kuwabara is designed to look and move like the fool and a lot of his development (his and others’ in relation to him, really. Like Hiei) is built around respecting him despite those looks. Hiei is tiny but will kick your ass. Genkai is tinier and will kick your ass worse.

Her size combined with her age - combined with her status as Yusuke’s teacher - is a continuous reminder not to judge power by looks alone. Don’t underestimate your opponent and get overconfident (a major flaw of Yusuke’s). Know that you still have a LOT to learn about the world. That woman you assume is just a rude grandma? She’s going to break your expectations over and over and over again.

Speaking of size, that’s a major aspect of Koenma’s design as well. When Yusuke learns he’s meeting the head of the underworld he starts picturing a massive, demonic beast who (sensing a theme here) looks the part of a supernatural ruler. Seeing Koenma for the first time - an adorable toddler-like being - is an absolute shock.

It’s a gag for the audience, but it’s not just a gag. Due to his looks Yusuke is unable to take Koenma seriously, despite knowing the power he holds.

Which, even more-so than arrogance, is Yusuke’s greatest flaw throughout the series. He doesn’t take school seriously. His death seriously. Ruler of the underworld seriously. His teacher seriously, etc. Yusuke constantly acts like he doesn’t care, throwing basic respect and effort in the face of whatever authority figure is desperately trying to keep him from self-destructing. He’s on the receiving end of multiple speeches throughout the series (mostly from Genkai) that boil down to, “Care about something, dammit. Take this seriously!” and when he does it’s GREAT. It’s a moment of growth we’ve really built to in a hundred different ways, including how he reacts to others’ looks. Koenma’s design feeds directly into the primary flaw Yusuke is working to overcome. How will he go from a delinquent laughing in the face of the most powerful being to someone multiple worlds can put their trust in? Design assists with that.

When Yusuke does respect Koenma (even if he still insults/teases him because that’s just an ingrained part of Yusuke’s personality) Koenma’s appearance can change. It’s no longer serving its original function, so he evolves into a very good looking young man (with references to Tuxedo Mask to emphasize those good looks) that just... happens to still carry a pacifier.

A pacifier that is revealed as an incredibly powerful weapon that will help save the world. Again: don’t judge anyone or anything solely on their looks. They’re never precisely what you’d assume they are based on your first glance - with the exception of minor villains whose looks serve only to convey their villainy:

For everyone else, looks are complex. Two of the most different looking characters (color-wise anyway) are actually siblings, their contrasts reflecting both differing cultures and the emotional distance between them.

The scariest looking monsters are just paper-pushers. It’s the handsome humans you should watch out for.

And this is our hero, a man charged with protecting three worlds.

I could say SO MUCH MORE but this is already disgustingly long so basically YYH (I think) does a great job of:

Crafting characters that are distinct but not different for the sake of different. They always feel like they belong to their individual worlds and adhere to whatever “normal” is by those standards.

Tying character looks really closely to the show’s themes and individual growth. Which, frankly, is something I think all good character design should do.

It’s not nearly as flashy as other anime... but YYH knows what it wants to accomplish and went about it beautifully. Catch me still weeping over this show fifty years from now.

Peace ✌️

#Anonymous #YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #mymetas #for the record #I'm not trying to hide my response or anything #(lol)#tumblr would just NOT let me put the read more anywhere else #why are you like this tumblr

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alwaysalreadyangry · 3 years

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Collab poetry anon here: I'm actually also usually not into theories about other folks writing Shakespeare's stuff, because who cares and also I don't think any of them are persuasive. There is unlikely to be any smoking gun historical evidence that proves any theory right or wrong so it's mostly just academic vanity and a penchant for conspiracy theory. The plays are good, I'd rather focus on the work. But I set my eye-rolling aside for theories that are obvs false (aliens made him do it!!!) and are more about poking fun at the tendency to theorize about the authorship of his work than believing he didn't write the work. My hottest take was the one that was actually the most tongue in cheek. (The middle one you will pry from my cold dead hands: they write poetry together, that is immutable TRUTH.) That said, there is actualfax reason to believe that Shakespeare collaborated on many of his plays, so it would also be funny if in TOG world the three of them were writing the sonnets trying to out do each other. That retains Shakespeare's authorship, just with some added Joe/Nicky collaboration. Just three dudes trying to annoy one another by one upping each other. The dark lady is Andy and Joe and Nicky are like S T O P.

I'm also obsessed with the idea that Joe & Nicky cowrite a bunch of stuff together, not just poetry: Plays!!!!!!! Novels! Comic books! Music! Even if something starts as Joe's project (which I suspect is how many usually start), I can't imagine him NOT talking about it with Nicky and Nicky not becoming involved.

YES to all of this. And I LOVE the idea of them collaborating together with Shakespeare... are Joe and Nicky Beaumont and Fletcher...

In my head I’m also fitting this in with the incredible shitpost from a while ago about Nicky as the fair youth, so like. Shakespeare writing love poems to BOTH Nicky and Joe and their response being like, oh sweetheart no, and then writing sonnets in return which are ever-so-slightly mocking him. Yes yes an excellent love triangle that isn’t really that at all.

Also I completely agree about them collaborating on everything. Part of my issue with thinking “Joe does this thing and Nicky does this thing and they’re different things that never meet” is that like. They’re almost 1,000 years old, they have surely tried pretty much everything. Including writing and drawing and painting and music. In that time you KNOW they regularly got bored and collaborated on epistolary 18th century romance novels they published anonymously and scandalous plays and operettas and everything. Everything! They have had this gorgeous shared long life and they want to share all of it.

Especially given that like, ideas of a single genius author being behind a work of art was not really a thing until recently. When i was writing about early lyrics and having Joe singing poetry for Nicky in the 12th century... that’s a period of intense poetic development but also oral transmission, and people using kharjas written by other people in their work. Because it was better to have something good than something you write yourself, if you can’t manage it. And we have these different “corrupted” versions of some kharjas, because they change with transmission. That’s my shit! I like to think of Joe and Nicky mock-competing to see who can come up with the best closing line to a couplet, composing whole poems this way. And then years later they remember the poems but not who wrote what. Except for when there’s a flourish that they know must be Joe, or an image that has to be Nicky. But even then: where does one end and the other begin? What if they were mocking or imitating each other’s style?

Galaxy brain: Joe and Nicky wrote the Isle of Dogs and got chased out of London for it

#answers #old guard #tog #anon once again: your mind. I love everything about this

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 28 - The Club

Once again just a friendly warning that this episode features and discusses teenage drinking

Varian stumbled out of bed and yawned. He looked at the clock and noticed the time. 6:30. Shoot! He was suppose to be up before six!

He threw on some clothes and rushed down stairs to the cafe.

Hiro and Aunt Cass were already down there setting up for the day.

"Sorry.. I slept in." He apologized. "Why didn't anybody wake me?"

"Oh well, I figured you could use the sleep. Besides it's only thirty after. Sit down and have some breakfast." Aunt Cass placed a couple of egg sandwiches on the table along with a cup of coffee and a cup of orange juice and encouraged the two boys to have a seat. While they both ate, Aunt Cass blithely carried on the conversation.

"So how did last night go?"

Varian eyed Hiro who glared at him over his sandwich but didn't say anything. "It went great actually. I even met someone while there."

"Oooh, that's wonderful sweetie. I'm so happy that you're making friends."

"Her name's Carol and she's a freshmen at the Art Institute. She just moved here from Mississippi, so she's new in town like I am."

"Oh, so she's what, 17... 18?"

"I..I honestly don't know. I didn't think to ask. But she invited me to another party tonight. If it's okay, I thought I might go. I could find out then."

"Another party?" Aunt Cass raised an eyebrow. It was a holiday weekend sure, but it was unusual to get invited to two parties in two days.

"Yeah, it's Jessica's birthday. She's Carol's friend and another person I met at the art school. They're all going to some restaurant to go dancing at. I forgot the name of the place, but Carol was going to text me directions if I could make it."

Aunt Cass thought a moment about it and then nodded along. "Well okay, just let me know where and text me when you get there. Also, once again, try not to stay out too late."

"Wait." Hiro interjected. He couldn't believe the ease with which Varian lied, nor could he believe that the other teen had just tricked Aunt Cass into letting him go out again to another wild party. He considered telling the truth right then and there, but the angry glare from Varian reminded Hiro of their argument last night and how Varian held dirt over himself as well. So he came up with an excuse instead. "I...I thought you wanted us all to spend more time together this weekend?"

"Well there's still Sunday tomorrow." Aunt Cass answered. "Why don't we have family movie night again? What do ya say? We could go out to the theater and catch a new release. I think their playing some sort of superhero movie this week."

The boys exchanged awkward glances but in the end agreed. Neither were ready to include Aunt Cass into their current feud. Besides she looked so happy at the thought of them all going out and spending time together as a family, that they just didn't have the heart to disappoint her.

They finished breakfast and Hiro left to meet with the rest of the gang. Varian however stayed to help with the cafe as promised.

"You know," Aunt Cass said while they washed up the morning dishes together. "I know it's only been a month, but I want you to know that we're all so glad to have you here. It hasn't been the easiest thing in the world readjusting, I know, but things are really working out; you're making friends, you and Hiro are really coming together here lately, and most of all you make our family just a little bit bigger and a whole lot happier just by being here."

She placed a loving hand on his shoulder, and Varian felt his heart drop at those worlds. He still didn't feel like he fit in here with the Hamadas and his relationship with Hiro had only degraded over this past week, which was already rocky enough to begin with. But Aunt Cass was so loving and hopeful that Varian only felt guilty for not measuring up to her ideals.

He gave her a small smile but deep down he couldn't wait to get out of here and back to another party. One where no one really knew who he was nor cared. Where he could drown out his intrusive thoughts and self doubt with a stiff drink.

"He went to the frat party?" Honey Lemon asked in worry.

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

Hiro was with the rest their friends at Joe's Dinner, recounting his argument with Varian last night.

"And you're sure he'd been drinking?" Gogo also asked with a frown.

"He said so himself and he smelt like beer when he came in." Hiro confirmed.

Gogo's eyes narrowed but she didn't say anything further.

"So what did you do?" Wasabi asked.

"Nothing. I..I wasn't sure how to tell Aunt Cass." Hiro looked around at his group of friends who were all giving him judgemental stares. "Look, I was still in my armor, alright. It was past midnight, and Varian had a point when he said that he covered for us all the time."

"You mean he covered for you ." Fred pointed out. "You're the one hiding your superheroing from Aunt Cass."

Hiro heaved a sigh, but Wasabi added his own opinion before he could offer up a defense. "You should have told her. Both about the drinking and about you being in big hero six. She's going to find out someday anyways and the longer you put it off the worst it's going to be."

Hiro cast his eyes downward unable to come up with a retort to that.

"Where's Varian now?" Gogo asked.

"Working at the Lucky Cat and after that he's going to another party."

"Another one?" Honey Lemon interjected.

"Someone he met at the other party invited him to go dancing tonight. He convinced Aunt Cass that it was just innocent birthday party." Hiro explained.

Everyone exchanged worried looks.

"You need to tell Aunt Cass." Gogo insisted.

"No, wait." Hiro pleaded. "Look, maybe we can handle this ourselves. Varian won't listen to me, but he might listen to all of you. Then there'd be no reason to involve Aunt Cass in any of this."

"And if he doesn't listen?" Fred asked.

"Hiro, why are you so against just letting an adult handle this?" Wasabi added.

"Look, Tadashi would go after him. He'd be there to help and try to reason with him, not be a snitch."

Hiro's explanation only elected more worried glances.

"And did it ever occur to you that Tadashi wasn't always in the right?" Gogo asked.

"What do you mean?" Hiro asked with trepidation.

Gogo sighed, "Look, we all miss Tadashi. He was a wonderful person… but that doesn't mean didn't make mistakes. Just because he kept trying to bail you out of those bot fights himself doesn't mean he should have."

Hiro had no words for that. Never in a million years would he have questioned Tadashi's methods. If it wasn't for his brother he would still have been bot fighting, and would have either been hurt or in juvie right now if not for trying to reach out to him.

He searched Gogo's eyes questioningly before she heaved a sigh in frustration and relented. "Fine. Where is this party?"

"I don't know. We'll probably have to just follow him; catch him before he gets there."

"Then I propose we suit up." Fred said. "To the headquarters!"

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

Varian stood in line to get into Monroe's with Carol and the rest of her friends. He'd had rushed to find Jessica a birthday card and a small gift and met them all at the restaurant right around nine. Only the restaurant, wasn't a restaurant, it was called a 'club' instead. There was still food and drink to be had, but the real reason folks came here was to dance, and Varian could hear the loud thumping music even from where he stood outside.

"Must be a really popular place." He shouted to Carol over the music and other party goers. "I don't see how we'll be able to dance with such a crowd."

Carol laughed "Yeah, Monroe's like the hottest spot in town. But there'll be room, the line just makes it look more crowded than it is."

Varian looked up ahead and spotted a large man at the front of the line. People were handing him cards or flashing their wallets towards him. Upon inspecting the cards he would then let them in through the door.

"What's he doing?" Varian asked.

Carol looked at him in surprise. "Checking I.D. They don't let you into the club unless you can prove your 21. That way they don't have to check everybody who wants to buy a drink inside."

Varian's heart stopped. No one here knew his actual age he realized. At the last party it didn't seem to matter so he hadn't brought it up, but here he'd be found out and no doubt made to look the fool all because he didn't meet some abritay requirement.

"I...I don't think they'll let me in then." Varian admitted to the girl.

"Why not?"

"Well, I haven't a license yet, and.." Varian was going to admit the truth but Carol interrupted.

"Oh, cause you just moved here." She nodded her head as if she had just figured out his problem. "Well you have some other sort of ID don't you? A passport or a visa?"

"Yeah I have both those things, but you don't understand.."

Carol placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't worry boo. We got you. We'll make sure you get in." She gave him a smile and a wink.

"Wouldn't be first time we snuck someone in." Jake put in.

"It wouldn't?"

Jessica laughed. "You think we're all 21 one? I mean I am, it's my birthday, but I wasn't always. Besides it's a dumb law anyways."

"If you're old enough to vote and join the army, you should be old enough to drink." Another one of Carol's friends, Daryl, interceded.

Everyone in the group seemed to be in agreement with this sentiment and Varian relaxed just a little bit. Though only a little. He wasn't necessarily voting age either.

"There's no age laws in Corona. Everybody drinks." Varian added.

"That's right, Europe doesn't have the same laws as we do." Carol said as if only just now considering the difference.

"I went to Germany once." Mary said; she was Daryl's girlfriend. "I was in high school and was able to get into a bar no problem. They just don't care over there."

"I'd love to visit Europe someday." Carol said, changing the subject. "I think Ireland would be a cool place to visit."

"I'd like to see Spain." Jessica threw her opinion in. "Would you take me see Spain baby?" She asked of Jake teasingly.

"Sure, if you got a couple of thousands of dollars lying around." Jake joked.

This elected more laughter from the small group of poor college students, and Varian's worry began to wane. Only to kick back up once they reached the front of the line. Panicked he dug into his pocket and pulled out the fake passport that Professor Granville had given him.

"What's this?" The bouncer at the door said incredulously.

"It's a passport." Carol said forcefully before Varian could answer. "Ain't you ever seen a passport before?"

"It's not even in English." The guard threw back annoyed and he flipped the booklet around to show off the I.D.

"Well of course not." Carol rolled her eyes. "It's in Russian. He's from Russia."

"Ok, prove it. Say hello in Russian." The bouncer clearly didn't believe them.

"Um.. privyet?" Varian answered hesitantly. It was a bit of a loaded question as there was more than one way to say hello in Russian, but Varian defaulted to the more informal greeting as it's what he and his dad would use most often.

The guard raised an eyebrow still not convinced.

"I also have my visa and college I.D. if you want that instead." Varian offered helpfully as he pulled out his wallet. He didn't think it'd be enough to let him in but better to be cooperative then to start a fight.

Just then Daryl from behind them yelled, "Hey, what's the hold up!?"

The bouncer took a look at the long line spiraling behind them and rolled his eyes while heaving a frustrated sigh. He didn't have time for this. "Fine." He said as he handed back the passport. "Go on in."

"Thanks." Varian mumbled as he took the I.D. back. He couldn't believe that had just worked.

"Yeah!" Carol added and then stopped to ask Varian in a whisper. "Uh, how do you say thanks in Russian?"

"Spasibo." Varian replied.

"Yeah, Spasibo!" Carol called back to the security guard in very bad mispounation of the word before they headed into the club.

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

"He's already left. We just missed him." Hiro said as he hung up the phone.

The gang huddled upon a rooftop across the street from the Lucky Cat. They had wanted to catch Varian while he was leaving, but it seemed like they were too late.

"Did your aunt say where he went?" Gogo asked.

"No, and I couldn't figure out a way to ask her without raising suspicion."

"Why not just call him instead?" Honey Lemon suggest. "Ask him himself where he's at and tell him we want to meet up."

"I doubt he'd want to talk to me" Hiro sighed.

"I'm on it." Wasabi said, but after several rings the call went to voicemail.

"Now what?" Fred asked.

"Looks like we'll just have to track him down the old fashioned way." Hiro said as he walked over to Baymax and mounted the robot. "Let's go."

Everyone dispersed to look for the wayward teen.

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

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" The merry group chanted as Varian and Jessica competed to see who could finish a whole pint of beer first. The others having given up the challenge before hand. They were neck and neck but the birthday girl sputtered with laughter at the last minute and Varian scored the win. He slammed the empty mug on the the table with a wide grin as the rest of the gang applauded.

"Ok, you win," Jessica conceded. "But beer is easy. I'd like to see you try that with some hard stuff, like whiskey or tequila."

"I don't know what tequila is, but your on!" Varian shouted over the den of noise.

The club was dark and smoky, with the only light coming from the flashing strobe globe twirling above the dance floor. Music blared a thumping beat that resonated in your chest and patrons crowded around to dance, drink, and make out. The little group had taken up a small round table off in the corner so as the better hear each other talk, but even then one had to half yell to be heard.

"Hey, can we get some shots over here?" Jake called to a waitress, then he turned to Varian and said, "Okay, you wanna play? We'll do a round of shots. Most down the hatch wins. Loser pays for the drinks."

"Deal" Varian agreed.

The waitress brought a tray of shots and Varian eyed the small glasses smugly. You could down one in a single gulp. This would be easy he thought. Only to nearly lose with the first sip alone. Whatever this tequila was, it was stronger than either ale or wine and burned the back of his throat as it went down. He finished the drink and tried to suppress a cough.

"Not as easy as you thought it was, hun?" Jake smiled as he picked up his second glass.

Varian however was not one to give up easily, and besides he really didn't want to blow through all of his hard earned money in one night. So he steeled himself and grabbed another shot, and then a another, and another.

On the fourth shot Varian saw Jake starting to slow, his face becoming red from alcohol. Varian too was becoming lightheaded but he pressed on and nabbed his fifth drink. He didn't notice if Jake had drunk his fifth yet or not, he was too focused on winning, but as he reached for the sixth he heard the other guy call out defeat.

"Okay, okay! You win!"

Varian flashed a grin and drunk the sixth anyway in celebration; just to rub it into other college kid's face. This last glass he also slammed hard upon the table in victory as the tiny crowd around him cheered.

Jake pulled out his wallet to pay the tab, both annoyed and begrudgingly impressed that he had lost.

"You're like the scrawniest guy alive; where do you put it all?" Daryl asked incredulously.

Varian shrugged his shoulders as he had no real answer to give.

"Well let's take a break from the booze for a while." Carol interceeded. "I mean we came here to dance after all. That is if you boys can still stand after all that."

She tugged on Varian's sleeve and pulled him to the dance floor and the rest of group followed after them.

Varian stood in the middle of the floor at a lost of what to do. He wasn't a bad dancer persay, but he didn't know any American steps and he doubted any of the more traditional folk dances that he knew would fit with this type of music.

"So..how does this dance go?" He shouted Carol above the music.

She laughed, "Anyway you want it to. Just feel the music." She swayed her hips in time to the beat to give him an idea.

Varian figured he would look silly doing that, it was clearly more of a move for women, but he did see most of the men jumping up and down and so he tried this in time with the music.

"Yeah, that's right! You got it!" Carol encouraged as she slid closer to him.

"Any luck?" Gogo asked Hiro as the gang gathered on top of a building in the middle of downtown.

Embolden, he grabbed her hand and gave her a twirl. This enlightened more laughter and they both broke down into giggles before carrying on with their dance.

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

"Baymax found an energy reading similar to Varian's close by, but it's fuzzy. He's probably in one of the buildings around here, but there's like eight or more clubs just on this street." Hiro explained.

"Well we can probably go in and check while you can stay out here and keep an eye on things." Honey Lemon suggested.

"Yeah, but there's no guarantee they'd let any of us in either." Fred pointed out."None of us are over 21."

"Look maybe we're over reacting here?" Wasabi offered optimistically. "What makes you think Varian could of snuck into any of these places? The kid still looks like he's twelve and he doesn't even have a driver license. Or it could even be that he was telling the truth about it being an innocent birthday par...."

He paused mid-thought as they heard a familiar laugh coming from the street below.

"I have found Varian." Baymax said, stating the obvious as they all peered over the roof to see their friend drunkenly walk out of one of the clubs across the street. He was with a short girl with a dark curly afro and they were giggling over something as they made their way towards the bus stop nearby.

"Or he could be stumbling out of a bar with a drunk girl hanging on his arm." Wasabi corrected himself, clearly disappointed.

Honey Lemon frowned. "I know her...she's in the sorority at SFAI."

"Carol." Gogo confirmed. She had been dragged to the occasional makeup party there, by Honey Lemon herself no less. "But she's a freshman. No way she's old enough to be drinking either."

"Peer pressure can often persuade people into partaking in unsafe activities." Baymax stated as he launched into his health education protocols. "If someone is pressuring you into doing something that you don't feel is safe; say no and walk away..."

"Uh, yes, Baymax. We know." Hiro informed the robot.

"So do we go down there now to talk to him, ooorrrr..." Fred asked, but the arrival of the bus answered for him. Varian and the girl boarded the public transport before anyone could to do anything.

They all exchanged worried and exasperated looks with each other before taking off to follow the tram.

Varian stood in the middle of the bus holding on to one of the center poles. He and Carol were the only two occupants aboard besides the driver, and he could have sat down anywhere, but he was beginning to feel woozy from all the alcohol and standing upright helped to keep him balanced.

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

Carol however decided to sit down. She sat across from him with her face in the palm of her hand and her eyes sleepily staring out at nothing in particular.

"Do you have to work tomorrow too?" She asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

"Uh..not sure. Probably. I usually work weekends. Either way though, I know my aunt has been talking about us all spending some 'quality family time' together all weekend long."

Carol smiled. "Responsible, family man, a great dancer, it's a wonder you're still single."

Varian blushed but laughed off her comment. "Responsible? Me? Yeah, no…..but family does mean a lot to me and I did promise Aunt Cass, soooo, sorry I had to bail out early again. But you know, you could have stayed at the party without me."

Carol shrugged. "Eh, I was about done anyways. The guys are fun to hang out with and all, but after awhile you start to feel like a fifth wheel, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know how that feels like." Varian agreed dryly.

"But you do know you didn't have to escort me home right?" Carol added with a laugh.

"I know, I just, I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"Ever the true gentlemen, hun?"

Her smile grew wider and Varian couldn't tell if she was teasing or flirting. He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. He was beginning to like this new girl, but he wasn't always the best at picking up social cues and he didn't want to ruin anything by being presumptuous.

"Well, I don't know about that, but looking out for one another is just what friends do, right?"

Carol looked surprised by that comment. "I..I guess…I have a hard time picturing Jake or Daryl doing anything so chivalrous through."

She snickered at that, but Varian tilted his head in confusion.

"But I thought you guys were friends?"

"Oh don't get me wrong, they're good people and all, it's just all we do is hang out at parties sometimes. I don't expect them to like loan me money or come and bail me out of the slammer or anything. We ain't that close."

She sounded nonchalant but Varian nevertheless grew concerned.

"Then who is?" He asked.

Carol was caught off guard by that question.

"Who do you call when you need help?" He clarified.

She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out and she just as quickly closed it again. They awkwardly stared at each other for a few moments before the bus came to a stop in front of the SFAI campus. Carol quickly got up and hurried off the tram. Varian rushed after her.

"I'm sorry! Did I say something wrong?"

She didn't answer him but instead started to storm up the front porch steps in front of the sorority house.

"Look, I didn't mean to offend you." He called after. "I..I just…"

He trailed off and she paused on the stair. She didn't turn to face him, but the very fact that she was no longer running away encouraged him to try again.

"Look, I just, I know what it's like to be on your own, and I know how hard it is to move someplace where you don't really know anybody and nothings familiar and you don't feel like you always fit in. I.. I just meant that if you ever needed someone, for anything, you could call me...you know, if..if you wanted to.. that is."

She finally turned to look at him with that admission. There was a pout on her face and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she tried to make a joke instead to distract from this.

"You know most folks don't talk like you do." She half heartedly laughed. "You sound like a character out of a cheap rom-com."

He offered her a small smile. "Eh, well, what can I say? I am Russian remember."

They broke down into soft giggles at that.

"You wanna come inside and grab a coffee?" She asked after there laughter had subsided.

"Oh, I'd love to, buuuut it's after one. I should probably get going soon." He declined.

"Well alright, but you have my number, so don't be a stranger." She said before giving him a wink and another of her charming smiles.

She waved him goodbye before heading inside. Varian waved back and then turned to leave, only to be confronted by the rest of his friends waiting for him at the bus stop.

They were dressed in their armor and stood there glaring at him sternly.

"Hey...guys.." Varian slowly said, confused as to why they were here."What's going on?"

"We could ask you the same thing." Gogo replied.

"Uh...well, I'm heading home from a party, soooo..." He made to leave, fully ready to just walk to the next stop instead of hanging around for yet another argument, but Wasabi placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Do have any idea what an incredibly stupid thing you just did today?" His friend asked.

Varian cast him an angry pout and back-peddled away defensively. He stumbled a little, still feeling tipsy from the tequila, but righted himself before falling.

"You can barely even stand up." Wasabi admonish, further driving home his point.

Varian huffed in frustration and threw an accusing glare at Hiro. He was getting really tired of everyone judging him and he rightly guessed that the other boy had dragged their other friends into this. However before he could respond, Gogo laid into him instead.

"You broke your promise."

Varian's stomach dropped as he realized that, yes, he had indeed went back on his word about not trying to purchase alcohol. Yet, he still wasn't ready to admit fault. Who were they to act so high and mighty? It was just a few drinks? It wasn't like he had hurt anybody.

"So what's it to you?" He threw back."It's not like what I do affects any of you. Me going to a party now and then doesn't harm anyone."

"B..but you could get hurt." Honey Lemon timidly said.

Varian looked at her confused. What did she mean hurt? It was just a party.

"You snuck into a club at sixteen with bunch of strangers." Fred explained. "Like that's just ain't safe, man."

"Fred's right," Wasabi added, "anything could have happened to you in there and we wouldn't have known."

And for the first time, Varian started to actually feel guilty as he realized just how worried his friends were for him. However his defensiveness kicked back up when Hiro added his two cents.

"You need to stop and think about what you're doing first. You can't just keep jumping into situations without…"

" Oh knock it off!" Varian interrupted. "I am sick and and tired of everyone telling me what I can and can't do! I've been on my own since I was fourteen! I know how to take care of myself, alright!"

"No you don't." Gogo pushed back. "You know how to survive, and I hate that you had to, but that's not the same thing as actually being mature. Now just stop and come with us; we're taking you home."

She reached out to grab hold of Varian's sleeve and to pull him along, but Varian wouldn't comply. He wasn't entirely sure what happened next, in his addled state, but she pulled in one direction and he tugged his arm away in another. Either her blades rolled out from under her or he didn't realize his own strength, but either way Gogo wound up lying flat on the ground after their struggle.

Everyone froze in shock and Varian felt his heart race as his anger turned into alarm and shame.

"Gogo!" Honey Lemon rushed to her friend's side to help her up. "Are you alright?"

Gogo refused the help however. Instead she gave Varian a hurtful and angry glare as she picked herself off the ground. His breath shallowed as he waited for her to go off again, but all she did was shake her head at him, turned around, and then skated away.

That was somehow even worse than a lecture.

Honey Lemon followed after her.

"Dude, what is wrong with you!?" Hiro reprimanded and all Varian could do was look at him with wide eyes. What was wrong with him?

"I...I...I don't know!" He choked." I just...I just wanted to forget… just for a little awhile. Forget that I'm...I'm.. b-broken."

"And how does this help?" Wasabi asked, and Varian had no answer.

"Look, I know you've been through some really messed up stuff." Wasabi continued. "More than most people ever will, and I'm sorry you had to go through that, but you can't keep on like this." He sighed in defeat. "Come and gets us when your ready to actually deal with things." And then he too turned and started to walk off.

Fred cast worried glances between Varian and the direction of where their friends were leaving, unsure of what to do. Ultimately, he too turned away and reluctantly made after the rest of the group.

Varian could hardly see through the tears now. They were leaving him. Everyone was leaving him. They always did at some point, and here he had dared to hope things might just be different in this new world. Yet, he had no one to blame but himself.

That's when he noticed Hiro and Baymax still standing there, watching him disquitedly.

"Well, aren't you going to leave too?" He asked accusingly.

Hiro took a moment to find the answer, but when he did he said, "Why should I? We're going to the same place, remember." He held out a hand to Varian. "Come on, Aunt Cass is waiting."

Varian blinked through his tears to see Hiro standing before him with his arm outstretched and a look of concern on his face. Varian's breath quickened and his vision swam. He had felt lightheaded all night and now the added stress of the recent fight only seemed to highlight just how drunk he really was. He was so sure he had been careful, that he hadn't really had that much, but that didn't stop the ground from rushing up to meet him as he fell, nor the darkness enclosing around him as he fainted dead away.

#varian #Hiro Hamada #GoGo #big hero six #bh6 #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #BH6 the series #honey lemon #cass hamada #Fred Frederickson IV #wasabi #of rocks and robots

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ineedahiddencorner · 4 years

Text

6.23.20

One thing that I was just reminded of in a dream:

Part of the reason why I don't feel completely myself, no matter how well I fix my algorithm?

No real dancing.

I've been swing dancing since I was 13. I don't know the official date of my swingiversary (unlike some folk) because I was dragged along. My sister's then-boyfriend's sister was a regular there and had gotten my sister involved. My sister had been trying to get me to come for weeks. In theory, I was down - she'd taught me the East Coast basic and two turns years before, but only the lead's footwork. (This was very quickly discovered at a volleyball teammate's swing birthday party, where the instructor asked for volunteers for a demonstration. I was so excited, and then did so terribly because I kept trying to start on my left foot.. it was a learning experience.)

I distinctly remember the day she got me to come. She was in the downstairs bathroom, door closed, and I was chatting with her from just outside. I don't remember any of our previous conversation, but just the following:

"Hey [my name]"

'Yeah?"

"Guess what day it is"

[I knew it was Thursday. There was a moment of silence.]

I can't remember the exact words of my reaction, but I'm certain I started fumbling around trying to make excuses for my completely open evening. Sequins just kept firmly saying, "Nope. It's Thursday, you're coming to [Lindy]."

Little did I know..

.. Just how TERRIBLY I'd do my first night!

Of course I jumped into the beginner Lindy lesson. This was when they still taught an actual lindy basic in that time, plus one move.

I don't remember the lesson or most of the evening. I only remember my first actual dance on the floor - the first one they played after lesson - where a kind gentleman asked me to dance and I could not get through a count of 8 without stopping. I may have once or twice in the whole song. We just stuck with lindy, no East Coast.. It did not go the greatest.

Part of it might be terrible memory (as previously found out this last week), but I don't remember being upset.

As mentioned, I don't know how the rest of the evening went, but evidently I kept going.

I don't have too many early memories - mostly things like wearing the red dress that was really a Latin dress but was the only dance-y dress I owned. Then wearing a different dress that I was.. hmm.. not old enough to fill, and one embarrassing dance related. With the addition of dresses came the one night that taught me to wear dance shorts. (I'm certain nothing actually happened, but that concern when you normally wear baggy shirts and jean shorts, and you feel the skirt lifting higher than you'd like? It changes you.)

My first most common outfit (though I can't remember how soon this was after I started) was my red latin dress, a red flower clip in the back, and my slightly-too-big red flats. (A.k.a. the ones I wore EVERYWHERE through ninth and tenth grade.)

Eventually [Haute] gave me my black and white, polka-dot diner dress. I still have that one, and wear it on occasion, but it's just getting old. (It started my Heart of Haute collection though, which was all I would wear for years.)

But that second common outfit was that diner dress, the red flower, and red flats.. clearly there was some easing that needed to happen. Somewhere around there I must've gotten into a single red lip color I had - but I only applied on the main lip area, no edges and most definitely no shape. Ah. Oh very grateful we've come a long way on that end.

I would stand immediately left of the door, cause that's where our friend and Sequins would stand. That stuck even when Sequins stopped coming. (I don't remember why.. but our friend and her friend kept coming for a bit and then stopped too.)

I remember learning the subtle art of asking for/declining a dance even before partners asked - I thought it was the coolest, subtlest thing. I remember watching follows do swivels and admiring them. If I wasn't dancing, I was standing with my arms behind my back, leaning against the wood of that door-left area.

I learned to love dance so much.. in tenth grade my teacher (and mom of my dear friend Caesar - one should also note the class consisted of Rose, Caesar, and I) told us about a dream she had about me getting all the boys from dance. I was mortified, everyone laughed, and it's been a tease since.

Oddly enough, somewhere in there I had the first gentleman ask me out. We were great dance friends! Tried to get a dance with him each time - we got along so well. At one point he asked if I had a boyfriend. I laughingly replied some variation of no. He asked if he'd have a shot. I kindly (and genuinely!) explained that I was 14, but sincerely appreciated it and if I'd been older, absolutely! (I never got his age but knew he was older than me.) He was embarrassed, and I don't really remember seeing him much after.. I understand the embarrassment but still miss him. Alas.

(And there-related, I'm either impressed with him or myself - either he had a very kind eye or I looked relatively together at the time, cause let me just tell you, compared to today's get ups? Oh honey. Oh I was so not properly dressed. Pretty sure this was still when I'd slick my hair back into a tight ponytail.. oof nope not my best look.

That said, we all start somewhere, but dang..)

I definitely had regular partners through that time, though they've changed drastically! It wouldn't be for a couple years that I'd meet Kaiju, Respect-women-juice, and Steals - my longest running, in-and-out-of-dance friends! Let alone more recent friendships..

Oof the early days. Parents dropping me off and picking me up. Then me driving myself but having to be home by 11 for the first year of my license. The different parking lots - North, South, and finally the underground (and my SPOT. I miss my spot. And B. I hope she's doing okay.)

I miss Lindy so much. I relatively regularly attended from that point on. It was a key part of my week for almost half of my life. It's definitely shaped so many parts of my life - respect, communication, kindness, joy, confidence, self-respect.. and much more I know. Heck, even gender roles - I remember getting so excited about leading and talking to a non-dance person as I got better. They were confused as to why being ambidancetrous was a goal and thought it was odd for people to be swapping around the 'fundamental dynamic' of a guy leading and girl following. Meanwhile I was so excited about leading I forgot that was even a view.

(My feelings were captured in the in image below:)

I miss dance. I miss the feeling of a good swingout. Of hitting the break perfectly. Of a favorite song coming on and despeRATELY NEEDING TO FIND THAT PERSON. I miss seeing other dancers in public and getting all excited. I miss trying a dance with a stranger and having it go REALLY FREAKING WELL. I miss finding story songs with Sandman and playing all sorts of characters. I miss laughing when messing up. I miss messing up but playing it off. I miss playing off an entire song cause neither of us are feeling it so we both just act ridiculous. I miss switch dances. I miss getting more confident in my lead. I miss dancing outside Lindy and Peanut-Butter & Dance. I miss hugging my friends. And getting good dips. And everyone's "dance outfits." I miss the Sisters' elaborate themes. The regular FEAST of snacks. I miss Heroes sneaking me in. I miss helping afterwards and catching up with everyone. I miss the peppermints at Lindy and having to move my "spot" for my stuff when the corner would get crowded. I miss the friends I'd make in the ladies lounge. I miss dance shoes. And space. And Camp Hollywood.. frick I miss Camp Hollywood. Days of dancing. The whole mindset being different. (And I was even going to bring ACTUAL food this year! (Not that protein bars and bananas aren't great, but.. variety)

I miss the music. The go to songs. I miss the smells of each of my favorite dance places. I miss feeling like I'm "coming home" every time.. And even if I have very low energy, still having a lovely night talking away to someone.

Especially Lindy. It did feel like home. I knew so many folks there. It was a wonderful home outside school, outside Old Street/New Street. It was my own space where I'd created myself. (Not in a facade way - quite the opposite. Where I'd built myself and my adult identity up from the roots.) It was my space. Not in an owning way, but in an independence way. Before I attended professional mixers and conferences, before I started at Engineering School, before I'd really had full on interviews - I was already my own person, forged by way of jazz music and incredible dancers.

That last part of the sentence is still off. Mostly cause it reduces dance to two things. But eh.

Of course as an adult there's so much more to learn about dance. Now is the perfect time to catch up on my swing history. It's changed over the years and I want to know that change. It's meant more than just light-hearted movements, and I want to catch up.

It's not stagnant. There's much more to know.

I've ignored dance due to "new physics" and therefore subconsciously not letting myself connect with that part of me. But there are other pieces I can learn without actually dancing.

Now is the perfect time for that.

#dance #i miss it #express #indirect

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greekgeekgoddess · 6 years

Text

Hiveswap Theory Time!

First I'd like to say I want to thank @whatpumpkin for giving me this wonderful start to an adventure with characters and story worthy of continuing the endless ride that Hussie started.

Now.

We all love Xefros right? You know Xefros the cute little cinnamon roll who stole our hearts. I mean how could you not??

But what if I told you he's more of a sinammon roll instead? What if we have a secret cinnamon roll and Xefros is playing us for chumps. What if Demmek isn't as bad as he seems? Think I'm lying? Take a look at this.

Now we all know about the troll zodiac signs. And we love them. But something sticks out to me. Look at Xefros' sign. Especially these passages I've underlined. Let's go through them and see what we find. :)

The title of Escapee is very interesting. It's usually focused on someone who is trying to escape judgement. It's what you call a criminal on the loose. But that doesn't really sound like our cute Xefros. Why and what would he be running from? Maybe the Heiress? But does she even know he exists? He's just a rust blood after all in her eyes.

But looking at the descriptions here we start to get some insight on how Xefros ticks.

Apparently he loves adventure. So much so he's obsessed. But we haven't seen much of that sort of behavior. Until a certain alien enters his world. Joey Claire. Xefros gets really excited after discovering she's not from Alternia. Which is cute and all but... what if he is excited for different reasons.

It states here that he will try to stir up trouble if he thinks it'll excite him. In part 1, we see him encouraging Joey to continue exploring Demmek's house. He even jumps at the chance to run over to her aid. And as we know he has a very unhealthy view of himself.

It also states here that they expect great things from people they have romantic feelings toward. Which might be good... if not for what is written here. Sorry JoeyxXefros shippers might want to rethink that relationship. Because this states if Joey doesn't meet Xefros expectations he will get angry and try to fix things. And if that doesn't work he may give up on Joey all together. Lucky for her right now he's hypnotized by her confidence. But we know Joey has her moments of fear and doubts. She also doesn't like violence. One day... she won't meet his standards. And I wonder what will happen then.

In fact we get a small glimpse of Xefros getting frustrated only once. When trying to motivate his Sloth custodian. He gets pretty heated. We don't know what he'd do really if it kept up. But eventually he was able to get past his guardian luckily before anything drastic could happen.

Anyways let's continue.

So Xefros also might not be as humble as he seems to be. He wants to fight. He wants to stir things up. One question is... how does he plan to do that. And we'll discuss that later. For now let's read this, Xefros wants control. And we can see this with how he keeps his home. It's scary clean...it's a little unsettling.

This also states he can be very controlling... hmmm. That is the most surprising yet. But I have a feeling there's more to this. I recall many people wondering why Xefros was so determined to stay with Demmek. Someone who from the conversation we have with him (Xefros' descriptions alone) is someone he NEEDS. But why does he NEED Demmek? Why is he so distraught when he realizes we aren't Demmek. Most believe it's because Demmek abuses Xefros... but I don't believe that's the case (evidence for that when we talk about Demmek later) Remember what was said about Xefros in a romantic relationship? The high expectations? Well who is his morail? Demmek. And remember how much Xefros was praising him and everything... what if Demmek didn't actually cause this? What if Xefros has an unhealthy obsession with Demmek and making him into what he wants him to be?

Which brings us to his Aspect. Rage...

Red flags people! It's the same aspect as Gamzee himself. Who I also recall was a loved goofball until the day he showed his other self. A darker self. One who likes to cause problems...

But Xefros hasn't done anything wrong I hear you claim. I respond with. "As far as we're aware. Or better yet... He hasn't had a chance yet."

This post claims that Xefros hates to lie...

But that doesn't mean he himself is unable to lie.

Joey is brand new to Alternia. She doesn't know anything. Except what Xefros has told her...

The perfect victim for the game Doc likes to play. And Xefros is someone he can use to make that happen. I'll explain more with Demmek so bare with me.

Ah Demmek. Poor misunderstood Demmek. We haven't even met him and he's already being dissed by the community. Now I won't say Demmek is an angel or anything. But he is far far from the abuser everyone seems to view him as. Look at his title for Pete sake! Cherished? Wow seems like the title for someone like say, the fandoms view of Xefros, someone who needs protection. But what if Xefros isn't the only one we should be protecting?? What if Demmek is an unsung victim here. After all we know nothing about him. All we know is he wants to save his planet and Xefros was "helping" him. And everything else is just Xefros praising how good a leader Demmek is. And I'm inclined to think that is the one partial truth Xefros tells us.

But enough of this, let's read about dear Demmek shall we. Is he the devil we think he is?

Warm and generous... interesting. We haven't seen any evidence of that. Oh wait! Yes we have! When Xefros is looking at the photos in his hive. He talks about how kind Demmek is. He gave him an entire pizza when they were supposed to celebrate Demmek's birthday. He gave Xefros some music equipment. And he and Xefros seem to hang out constantly. The only thing that's different is that Xefros' dialogue kindof makes it seem like Demmek is trying to surpress him, and shape him. But what if I said it was the opposite, and Xefros is hurting both of them. And he may not even know.

As we continue to read we get an image. A clingy person who craves assurance and security. And it seems he's found that with Xefros. It "seems" that way.

All these traits seem to fit what we know of Demmek. Except this bottom portion.

It says that he wouldn't be the type to struggle against authority... that's odd. Xefros said the opposite.

But from what we've read to this point it seems like Xefros may be the bigger driving force in their rebellion. What would you say if I told you. Xefros unknowingly guilted Demmek into playing this role of "Tetrarch". What if he claimed he just wanted to make his morail the best he could be? And for a while Demmek goes with it. He puts up this act around others that he is this stone cold, take no chances, leader. The hero that Xefros wants him to be. NEEDS him to be.

Don't you think it's odd that Demmek is SO focused on the band?? If he's trying to make a difference... why is he so focused on their band for the most part. He even uses their band name as his password. Also remember that poster of them in the butler uniforms. And how Xefros claimed that it felt out of place. Because Demmek claimed that them wearing the butler uniforms was a way of rebellion?? Xefros seemed confused at this, stating it may send the opposite message. And he's kindof right, and I think Demmek knew this. The band was never supposed to be a huge rebellion. It was supposed to be two Morails having fun. Demmek just wanted them to focus on their music. But why?? Because he has discovered Xefros' true motive in all this. Causing rebellion, ANY rebellion.

This passage also states that Demmek isn't in control of himself and how others see him. Who likes to take control? Apparently Xefros. And his Aspect can tell you why. Demmek isn't the one pulling the strings here... Xefros is. And for the most part he's convinced Demmek it was his idea.

His Aspect is blood. Much like a certain crabby troll we know and love. This states he's not one to take the role of leader. He's a supporter. But all the stuff we see in his hive and what Xefros tells us contradicts this. But shocker here folks... Xefros is an unreliable narrator.

I think he is the one who comes up with all the major things these two do for the rebellion. Demmek just plays the part. And Xefros plays the part he SO LOVES to play. The unworthy partner. The one who is luck to be there to catch the rays that fall from Demmek. He made Demmek who he is now. And that's why he doesn't want Demmek out of his sight. He wants Demmek to be everything he's claiming and he'll do practically anything to keep this rebellion going.

And I think Demmek knew this. He tried to fix things with the band. He may be trying to keep Xefros surpress to keep them safe. But then Xefros just "happens" to turn on the weapon they were working on. I'M TELLING YOU DOC SCRATCH IS BEHIND THIS! He just happened to misunderstand what Demmek was wanting him to do. Because he was afraid they weren't going anywhere the way they were. He wanted to get the adventure going and he got it. Notice how he seemed just as confused as Joey when they pass each other in the beams. I really wonder how Demmek is going to take being on earth. I also can't wait to see his interactions with Jude. :)

Demmek was trying to delay the inevitable. He realized too late what whoever is doing this was planning. A rebellion that never ends.

But Xefros found someone new to obsess over. And that's Joey.

The question is... what happens now for them both?

Doc Scratch is involved now. So my guess... this isn't going to be pleasant. No wonder he gave that chat application to Xefros. Xefros is Doc Scratch's new prodigee. And we should all be afraid.

The question is can Joey save Xefros from becoming like Gamzee?? Someone obsessed with what they believe is right and just. Or is that what the Rust Blood truely wants...

I believe Xefros is going to try to make Joey his new figure head. And I hope she survives that process and can knock some sense into him. Because this is not healthy. We all knew Demmek and Xefros' morailegence wasn't healthy. But I think it wasn't what everyone thought it was.

(Small update)

Now keep in mind I'm not saying Xefros is necessarily evil. Just in need of guidance and should be watched. He may be putting himself in danger and not realizing it. He may think he's not doing anything out of the ordinary. But we have to remember that Doc Scratch has his ways of molding people into who HE wants them to be not what they want to be. Doc Scratch might encourage Xefros into performing some questionable choices down the line with the promise to Xefros that his adventure will never end...

And Xefros may not even realize he's lying. He may truly believe every word.

#hiveswap xefros #hiveswap xefros tritoh #hiveswap theory #hiveswap spoilers #hiveswap #hiveswap theories #demmek #tetrarch dammek #hiveswap demmek #homestuck #homestuck 413 #hiveswap troll call #troll call #hiveswap friend sim

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