#but i also don’t want any of the others to die
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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)
CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML
AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.
☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader
☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni
☆ WC: 3.9K+
☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)
thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!
masterlist
“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”
You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.
This moment is no different.
The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.
Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.
He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.
You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.
Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.
“Are you sure you want thi-”
“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”
You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.
You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.
His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?
“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”
You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.
Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.
You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.
It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.
“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.
He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.
It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.
You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”
Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.
Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.
You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.
All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.
The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.
“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”
You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.
One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.
“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”
All the air leaves your lungs.
There will be no mistakes tonight.
“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”
It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.
It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.
“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.
Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.
“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”
Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.
You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.
He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.
You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.
Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.
You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.
But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.
“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”
Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.
“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”
You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.
He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.
“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.
“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”
It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.
“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.
You can’t do this.
You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.
It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.
Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”
“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”
“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.
We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?
But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.
All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.
How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?
Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”
“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”
This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.
Except you don’t.
Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.
You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.
You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.
The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.
He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.
Always have, always will.
Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.
Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.
You’d forgotten just how well you know him.
It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.
Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.
Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.
You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.
You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.
“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”
“Please what, Sugar?”
“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”
No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.
Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.
You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.
Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.
Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.
By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.
“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”
You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.
You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.
His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.
“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.
Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.
“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”
You mean more than just the sex.
The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.
The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.
You don’t know when the tears started.
But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.
“Then I say let it burn.”
You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.
“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”
You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.
“When I get back, all I care about is you.”
It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.
“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”
He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.
It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.
They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.
And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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#ghost's stories#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#maroon#this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE#that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3#truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write#it gave me fucking hell
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top 3 laurent is 3 seconds away from turning damianos into bottomianos scenes from the books?
HELLO DEAR ANON!!! 💖💖💖 I normally don’t have the poster’s temperament but this is a topic I hold dear to my heart and have decided I am willing to investigate.
What I have discovered is that it all starts with the fact that Laurent has two eyes…
NUMBER THREE: POST-ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT MEETING
Laurent has escaped a high adrenaline situation and is now seated slouched on the throne, a powerful aphrodisiac in his system, gazing at Damen so intensely that Damen starts wondering if Laurent is checking him out:
I do believe Damen’s slut senses were warning him that Laurent wanted to take him right there on the floor. The circumstantial evidence is pretty damning that Damen barely escaped Laurent’s clutches in this scene with his First Night intact.
NUMBER TWO: RAVENEL
Laurent at last has his mortal enemy exactly where he wants him, in a four-poster bed with soft-lit candles romantically arranged around them. He sets up the ideal conditions to ravish Damen asking him to hold still and goes wild:
We all know how matters progress. It is fair to say that I believe when a man climbs on top of another man and starts humping him into the sheets his thoughts have taken him in a certain direction…
By this point in the story Laurent also reveals his true romantic predilections. He wanted to hold Damen’s hands and call it making love.
NUMBER ONE: MELLOS
It couldn’t be any other moment but their last night together in Mellos.
I can't add much to this one because it's self-evident how much they want each other. Laurent thinks he's going to die. He spends their night together trying to have as much as he can with Damen. It really is the ultimate almost moment for them which brings me to…
BONUS: TOP ONE MOMENT BOTTOMIANOS WAS DOOMED
Laurent was twenty years old, madly in love and preparing to die for the love of his life. He lasted two seconds after Damen said that to him. RIP.
#thank you for this ask!!!!!!!!!#if you think i'm misreading anything please submit your top three moments for my further consideration#captive prince
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ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR A SYZOTH AND TOMAS. LITERALLY ANYTHING I JUST NEED IT PLEASE!!
obvi if u still take requests..<33
A/N: Of course I’m still taking requests! I’ve been very busy with personal stuff lately and I’ll be willing to do that for you!
Tongue| Syzoth x Tomas |
Tw: Suggestive themes, fluff
A/N: I hope you all enjoy !! <33 (credits to the artist down below @Chronic robot !)
Tomas had a weird fascination with Syzoth, not that it was weird, but the fact he was the only Zaterren capable of turning human was rather interesting to him. He’d always feel bad for the man as well having to grieve the death of his wife and child. Tomas knew of that pain, to loose family and rather then wanting to see him constantly quiet, he loved his partner and he wanted to get to know him a little bit more.
He slowly made his way over to Syzoth, or well, his reptilian form. He stared up at him, tilting his head and seeing just how long the reptilians tongue was while catching bugs of any sort. As he watched Syzoth go into his human form, he couldn’t help be feel a sense of curiosity getting the better of him. “Sy, I have a weird question..” Syzoth perked his head up from crunching a big and swallowed it, clearing his throat. “No questions are considered, “weird”, especially from you.” “”How long is your tongue?” Tomas responded quickly, causing Syzoth to freeze in motion and take in his words for a moment. “I- I would assume maybe..8-9 inches if so?”
Tomas also froze up, staring at him for a very small moment. “Can I..try it?” He said, confidently nervous. He walked closer to him, taking off his own mask before kissing him sweetly. Syzoth melted into the kiss, holding him tightly and feeling his body against his naturally cold blooded body. “Tongue..”Tomas said between the kiss, causing Syzoth to slip his tongue into Tomas’s mouth. Making Tomas let out a low whimper before feeling syzoths hands wander, feeling him, almost exploring the body of what a normal human being has.
“You’re so warm..stay..please. Stay right here, you taste better than anything. You’ve..helped me through so much, I don’t want you to die.” He stated into the kiss, deepening it while hearing the assassins words. “Do not worry Sy, I will stay. I won’t leave you if it means we can have each other without feeling guilty about it, without feeling scared. Just pure joy and love to be shared.”
#mk1#mortal kombat#mortal kombat 1#writers on tumblr#fanfic#symas#syzoth#tomas vrbada#syzoth x tomas
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lost in translation ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader 4.4k words
genre: angst comfort, ‘enemies’ to possibly lovers
warnings: deaths, injuries, blood, mentions of kissing and also suicide (?), smoking, cursing, canon divergence idr half of s1, guns, slightly suggestive at the end
author’s note: this was requested! i kinda strayed off the original request sorry TT it got a bit angstier than it should’ve but oh well! have this i missed him
summary: The development of your feelings for Lee Eunhyuk in the middle of an apocalypse, and struggles of leadership.
Green Home Apartment is not a place you would ever allow to crumble.
From the very first hours of the outbreak, people saw a leading figure in you. A seemingly natural instinct to guide people and keep them as safe as possible. Someone strict, just firm enough to keep panicking residents in line and gentle enough to reassure other equally terrified people.
The perfect leader, really. It wasn’t exactly the role you would have wanted had you imagined yourself in this situation prior, but you felt you didn’t really have a say in the matter. You were just a college student, and within a few hours, at least ten people in your apartment building had voiced out their agreement on you being the perfect captain for a broken and sinking ship.
So when this guy with a blue flannel gave off the same impression as you apparently did— enough to convince people he would be a good leader, too— you were mildly relieved. Part of you felt like it was a good thing someone else would take the reins for this whole thing. It was too much pressure for you. But another part didn’t feel at ease. After all, you didn’t know this guy. People trusted him for a reason— He did seem mature, headstrong, and determined. Good with instructions and quick-witted. But you didn’t know if that would be enough to let the people here, or you, at least, survive this.
If you were to survive this in a group, you would need to have some kind of authority when it came to making decisions. Surviving alone was fine, but being stuck with so many people meant certain chaos, attempts at democracy leading to stupid decisions, and your life being stacked between at least twenty others with barely a word to say when they would all eventually be led to sure death. You’d damn near experienced it already, and that was more than enough for you.
So you didn’t step away when Lee Eunhyuk, as you eventually learned his name to be, took the place of a leader. And thankfully, it seemed the residents hadn’t expected you to. So weeks ago, you and Eunhyuk were appointed as leaders of Green Home during the monster apocalypse.
“Going there would be suicide.”
“So you suggest we stay here and wait to die? Do you genuinely think the people in the next room over will be fine with that?”
Leaders who get along perfectly.
“I suggest you use your head a little. There’s resources in much more accessible spaces than this. The store at the side, for example?”
“I’m not sending anyone there.” Eunhyuk states blankly, in his usual emotionless fashion. You narrow your eyes and bite back a scoff.
“Right, I almost forgot it’s about sending out people with you. You’re a coward, you know that?” you say, and he glances at you from the side.
“And you’re just as selfish.” he says, turning to face you properly, “Let’s not pretend you’re any better than I am because you act courageous. You’re terrified.”
“And you’re mistaken. Why don’t you go out there and get to the storage room yourself?”
Eunhyuk’s tongue presses into his cheek and his fingers tightens into a fist. He presses his hand to the table and tilts his head a little, nodding slightly. “We both know without a leading figure this group is done for.” he says, tone much calmer than you’d anticipated. The restraint he has over his anger only serves as fuel to your own. You bite the flesh of your lip.
“Am I not a leading figure?”
“You are, but are you a good one?” he asks. There. There it is, the hint of anger. That cutting edge to his tone. It’s nearly imperceptible but it makes you want to bring out all of it.
“Do you believe I’m not?”
You step closer. He looks down to your feet then back up to meet your gaze. “You’re dodging the question.”
“It’s a weird question to ask.”
You’re close enough to punch him, now, if need be. You won’t. But it’s a good thing to note.
“I don’t think it is, all things considered.”
“Uh,” a meek voice comes from behind you. You turn towards the door to see a man from the group stand with a bottle in hand, moving around uncomfortably, “The others are arguing about rations… You should come.”
You take this as the perfect opportunity to clear your head and not to let your irritation get the better of you. You hum absentmindedly and walk past him to get to the store where you expect everyone to be, leaving the man and a scowling Eunhyuk behind.
“Is- Is something wr—”
“Everything’s fine.”
Everything is wrong.
It’s been less than a day since your argument with Eunhyuk when a new problem enters your life. A guy that looks about your age, that you remember walking past when he moved in, who fell from nine floors high in the stairway. He’s lying on the floor with blood all over and around him. Everyone is scrambling to take a look and Seo Yikyung has to be the one to hold them back, because you and Eunhyuk are too busy checking the supposedly dead man’s pulse for the third time.
“He’s breathing.” you sigh, pulling away your trembling hand from his face again. This is insanity.
“It’s impossible…”
“Get a grip.” you shove Eunhyuk’s shoulder, “Impossible isn’t in our vocabulary right now. Weird as this may be, we can’t just leave him here, so start thinking or I’ll make the decisions.”
He’s shaken out of his thoughts, alright, but now he seems another kind of confused that you can’t bring yourself to try deciphering. He calls your name but you don’t respond.
You don’t exactly look down, but you start to kneel to reach towards the body on the floor. You need to carry him somewhere else, where no one will see how bad it is. There’s kids here and the adults aren’t reliable. You can’t let this cause more trouble.
Your gaze is looking anywhere else but at the corpse— Person. Alive. You almost grab him when Eunhyuk stops you with a hand on your shoulder, effectively causing you to flinch.
“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”
He hoists the limp body up on his back with some effort and holds him tightly so he doesn’t fall. “Tell them to go elsewhere. It’ll only cause issues for them to see more than needed.” he tells you, nodding towards the hallway. The blood that gets on his clothes and the state of the one he carries unsettles you a little, but you nod and hurry outside.
“Go to the daycare.” you say, voice hoarse. Everyone’s chattering does nothing to help you calm down. You’re not sure if they didn’t hear you or if they simply don’t care. “I said go! Right now!” you exclaim, much louder.
The talking silences and everyone reluctantly heads to that place, though clearly still trying to get a glimpse of the situation. You breathe out sharply and stare down at the floor. Your reflection meets you halfway on the tiles, showing you just how little control you currently have on the emotions you usually hide so well. You’ve seen people get killed too many times since this all started but this is was one too many.
You can’t even tell if the stranger’s fall was accidental, if it was suicide, if… You can’t think.
Eunhyuk passes by you and you barely notice. Or rather, you force yourself not to notice.
So much blood.
The sun sets and rises again. Tension does as well.
“We can’t keep on using him.” you say upon stepping into the security office. Eunhyuk is leaning against the desk, eyes trained on the several CCTV screens when you come in, and he seems like he’s about to leave the moment you start talking. You close the door and he gives up. He seems to know there’s no point in trying to leave, now.
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re not.”
“High compliments coming from you.”
You sigh and step further into the room. “I’m not in the mood to argue, Lee Eunhyuk. Cha Hyunsu, he… He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. You know it, too.”
Eunhyuk is silent. You see his thumb tapping against the desk rhythmically, like he’s thinking hard about something.
“Lee Eunhyuk.”
“I heard you.”
“Then say something!” you scream.
Eunhyuk turns to look at you. You take a breath. It’s unlike you to let your anger turn to yelling but you feel hopeless. Cha Hyunsu is just a boy your age trapped in circumstances he never asked for, and forced to do the worst part of the work around Green House. Eunhyuk never wanted to send anyone upstairs, yet he decided to send Hyunsu there. Because he’s a monster? Because he survived a several floors high fall? Because he was doomed to live in-between two kinds of evil, neither of which truly accepts him?
It just feels like it hits you harder today that this world will continue to be this cruel. And you two are not making it any better.
“This is the best way.” Eunhyuk says, unfazed. “The group needs to survive. You said it yourself. Cha Hyunsu’s the best bet we have at getting this result.”
“We saw him die, Eunhyuk.”
“He’s alive. You know that.”
“This is unfair.”
“The world is unfair.”
You look elsewhere, annoyed. Eunhyuk calls your name in the same tone he always does. “Your sympathy is useless.”
“What kind of leaders are we if rid of any compassion?”
“… The kind needed to survive.” he says quietly, gaze cast downwards. “Jisu asked for band-aids. Could you bring them to her for me?”
Anything’s a good enough distraction from whatever spiral you feel yourself falling into.
“Sure.”
Days pass. Your anger subsides.
“But didn’t you say it was okay to go there?”
“No, I didn’t.” Eunhyuk crosses his arms, “Who told you that?”
A name is mentioned in reply.
You sneeze.
“Aye, did you catch a cold?” Eunyu scoffs, laughing smoke at the face you seem to be making. “That’s bad. Catching a cold during an apocalypse? Seriously.”
You and the girl are sitting on the fire escape stairs, on the floor closest to the main hall. She has a habit of disappearing to go smoke, or whatever else she does, and you don’t want her getting killed. She didn’t seem to mind you coming to check up on her the first time, and now you have a habit of disappearing to hang out with her.
“I’m fine.” you click your tongue, “Anyways, you shouldn’t be smoking out there. If your brother was here he’d be pissed.”
“Who cares? Let’s not act like he ever shows it.”
You roll your eyes a little and chuckle. “Sure.” you hum, “Still. What’s the point in smoking? During an apocalypse, too? That’s bad.”
She flips you off and you return the gesture, earning a laugh in return. You don’t talk to many people in this place. Your age differs from nearly everyone. Eunyu’s a bit younger, so you’re mostly watching over her. Then there’s Hyunsu, but there’s a nearly visible wall between him and everyone. You can’t blame him for putting distance between you two especially. As far as he’s concerned, you’re also responsible for the errand-running he’s been told to do.
There’s Yikyung, but you’ve struggled to get close since you told her to shove off when she had Eunhyuk pinned to a wall. You’re not sure why you did that, even now. She’d be better company than him, maybe. And you understand her reasons.
Then there’s Eunhyuk.
“Serious talk, listen up.” Eunhyu huffs, “What relationship do you entertain with my brother?” she mimics a serious sounding voice that’s so unlike her. It makes you scoff in amusement.
“He’s a…” You trail off. What is he? A friend? An acquaintance? Whatever could be considered a coworker, at the moment? A fellow leader? “Uh, a person.”
Eunyu gives you this look that is so clearly judgemental that you consider jumping off the railing promptly.
“Yeah, no shit. Good to know he’s not turning.” she scoffs, “I know you hate him. Spit it out.”
“I don’t recall ever feeling that way.” you lie with an obviously fake smile. Eunyu threatens to throw her lighter at you. “He’s fine, alright? We just work together, I guess.”
“He likes you.”
“Hm?”
“He doesn’t hate you, I mean. You’re not stupid, so you noticed, right?” she says before bringing the cigarette to her lips again. You’re confused and it must show because she sighs in annoyance. “Clearly, I’d say the real leader is you out of you two. Aren’t most decisions yours?”
“They’re ours. Mostly his. Trust me, my opinion isn’t as valued as you might believe.”
Her expression suddenly sours and she curses under her breath. “And I think you’re wrong. Anyways, I’ll leave you with the jerk.” she coughs, pushing herself off of the stairs, “Bye.”
You hum curiously as you watch her leave before turning around. Lee Eunhyuk. Of course.
The first thing he does is shove your shoulder.
“What the hell?” you scoff, scrambling up to your feet before you can lose your balance. It’s such an unexpected move from him that you can’t help the words that slip past your lips. “What’s your deal?”
“Returning the gesture. What’s yours?”
“Huh?”
“The gate to the store alley. I said it should stay closed.” he says, “So why are three people on their way back from there telling me I allowed it?”
“Because I allowed it.” you say casually. “It had medicine, water, and some canned foods. Besides, we needed fresh air.”
He stays silent for at least half a minute before he steps closer to you. Close enough for your hands to touch if your arms were to move an inch. “It’s not safe. I said so enough, didn’t I?”
“Have you ever cared about safety?”
“I have—”
“About the people’s, about the half-monsters’s, about yours?”
Your name sounds tense when he says it.
“About mine?”
“Do you ever stop talking?” he grits his teeth. His eye twitches. You wouldn’t have noticed it had you been further away. No, you… you would have. You know his every feature and emotions too well by now. You would realize the most unnoticeable of changes from him. Any of them.
He’s angry.
There.
“Does that piss you off? That I talk so much?” you say, “Is it a problem because you never do? Does hearing someone so much get on your nerves? Should I leave the leading you? Are your decisions supreme? Am I too talkative? Is that it? Is that it?”
He kisses— He almost kisses you. He stops short of pressing his lips against yours, short of holding your collar and bringing it up to meet his chest, short of everything you only now realized would’ve been so good to have.
For fuck’s sake. “You’re holding back.”
“There’s no point in causing unnecessary fights.”
“You’re a coward.”
“You—”
You tilt your head, like you want him to finish his sentence. You do. He’s realized this much.
He takes a breath to calm down and steps back, much to your dismay.
“I know why you used to be so self-centered.”
“That’s…” you trail off, before laughing in disbelief. “What?”
“You almost got killed at the alley to the store, the one you just allowed to be opened. First day of the apocalypse. I remember it. You looked terrified. Then you put your survival above anyone else’s.” he says, “And yet now, you keep on trying to go. That’s something I don’t understand.”
You swallow, images of that monster nearly killing you with its claws, and dragging away a bloodied, dismembered corpse when it failed to find you. The feeling of someone pulling you back into the shadow so you wouldn’t get noticed, and the chaos that ensued in the main hall so quickly that you never got to see who it was.
… Wait?
“That was you.”
“It doesn’t matter who it was. You changed.” he cuts off any questions you might have, “You used to be selfish. People falsely believed you were a good leader just because you seemed strong. But you didn’t care about anyone’s lives except yours.”
“… So what? What changed?” you ask quietly, “Did you fall for it, too? Because I’m still the same, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I do—“
“The you I first talked to in the security room would’ve never went out of their way to make sure some high-schooler is doing fine. They wouldn’t have been this upset over a random half-monster running errands. You would have been unbothered. And that store you seem so obsessed with would’ve been emptied of the basics before anyone could get them. But it was full, wasn’t it? The store was untouched.”
You’re not sure what to say. Where is he going with this?
“Fine.” you settle with that. “Let’s say that, somehow, you’re right. Then should we talk about you? That you changed, too?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“You never talk this much. Why are you so obsessed with this?”
“… I just wanted you to know.” he says, but it sounds like he’s withholding another response. “It didn’t feel right for me not to tell you I knew about what happened after all this time. Also I need you to come back now. People are gonna crowd the store too much for it to be left without any rules.”
You look away. Decide. Look back at him. “Fine.”
Lives come and go. The obvious is ignored.
A lot of guns were pointed at a lot of people’s heads today. You’re unsure why the image of Eunhyuk stuck to the floor with a gun pointed to his forehead is stuck in your mind so much. It keeps rewinding— Reminding you that you were both helpless there, that you got lucky he even survived it all.
There’s so much blood everywhere.
Someone says your full name, with a tone much too casual to match what seemed to be politeness and with such ease that it can only be one person. He grabs your arms and tries to catch your gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Are you crazy?” you whisper, looking at him. He looks like a mess. “You almost got killed, Eunhyuk.”
“So did you. Don’t downplay it.” he argues. You expect his grip to loosen now that he’s seen you’re alright enough to talk but it only seems to tighten, “We have a few minutes to get it together before we have to go back to the usual. So be honest for once.”
Being honest…
You look at him, and your eyes are burning. “Fuck, Eunhyuk, I don’t know why I’m this scared.” you cough out, hands tensing at your sides.
He carries something gentler in his gaze, something you’re unfamiliar with. His hand drops to your wrist and he squeezes it. “Breathe.” he says, and you try, but it’s like you’re struggling to get the air in and out of your lungs. It’s burning, too. Why?… You’re panicking. That’s why. Your breaths come out short and that uneasiness who loves to get in the way of your thoughts is back. You can’t do anything, right now— you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to survive, let alone yourself.
Eunhyuk’s hand grabs your hastily and he brings it to his chest. “Slow down. Just breathe. That’s all that matters, right now.”
“Are you breathing?”
“I am. I need both of us to be. So listen to me.”
“Yeah.”
And just like a doctor would, he guides you to something calmer. Your gazes are locked the whole time. He insisted. Don’t look anywhere else, he said, just me. He helps you remember how to breathe again, helps you remember how to think, and helps you remember you have a lot to do immediately.
“We need to go.” you say, back to the closest thing to normal you could manage. “Hyunsu’s gone. Did anyone get shot? You should—”
“You should go grab the medkits. The ones in the nursery. Bring them here. I’ll take care of it.”
You don’t argue. “Okay.
Ah!” — But you nearly lose your footing. You hear Eunhyuk breathe out something that almost sounds like a laugh and turn around to glare.
“You’ll be lightheaded for a bit. Be careful.”
“Oh, yeah, okay.” you scoff. You hear Eunyu yell something along the lines of ‘It’ll be fine, so stop looking and get to work—‘ but you’re too far away to catch all of it.
The skies darken before the light comes back again. Things are eerily quiet.
When leadership becomes worthless, it’s hard to keep a proper sense of identity. Everyone has seen you and Eunhyuk as their leaders for a long while now. But since Jung Uimyeong’s arrival and the clear impact he’s had on the group’s dearest Cha Hyunsu, the atmosphere has suffered a drastic change. It feels tense for everyone but the newfound duo. It’s suffocating.
But instincts remain the same. Survival is key, and that means gathering information is, as well. You need to get what Uimyeong’s plan is before it escalates, but you know he would have no interest in talking to you.
So Hyunsu, it is.
“You don’t trust me.”
“But I do! I’ve always trusted you, Hyunsu.”
The latter keeps on walking and you have to jog to catch up. This is ridiculous, how could he allow a stranger to change him so much? Did he convince him the people here were the real enemy? You wouldn’t be surprised. Still…
“Just stop and have an actual conversation with me.” you scoff.
He does just that, stops in his tracks, and you nearly run into him. He turns around slowly to look at you. Hyunsu’s expression is usually devoid of emotion but now it’s just cold. “I don’t want to talk to you. Everything you say’s a lie. You don’t trust anyone here. I’ll say good luck to the people who still think you’re a good leader.”
“Isn’t that too much?” Eunhyuk. “Especially since you know it’s not true. Or were you influenced by that guy so easily?”
Hyunsu glances at him, then back at you, before directing his glare to Eunhyuk again. “Find someone else to run your errands. I’m tired of it.”
“That’s not—”
“Leave him be.” Eunhyuk says as Hyunsu walks away. You sigh and rub your temples. This isn’t good. “There’s no point in trying to reason with him now.”
“So what, we don’t do anything? Leave things as they are?”
“We do.”
You sigh and turn around to let your head drop on his shoulder. Eunhyuk brings his hand to the back of your head and leaves it there. You’re not sure how or why this change happened between the two of you after the shootout, but neither of you mention it. It might be for the best.
“I’m tired.” you mumble.
“You should get some rest.” he says quietly, “There isn’t much to take care of, right now. You should be able to sleep for a bit.”
“How long is a bit?”
“Until I wake you, approximately.”
“… Fine by me.”
The sun sets—
“Wake up.”
“Hmm…?” you force yourself to open your eyes and look up. God, the world’s blurry. “What?”
“Switch. I need to rest for a bit.”
You nod lazily and sit up on the bed, making space for him to sit. He settles at your side and turns to look at you. “Look here.” he says (demands) with a hand on your jaw. You turn and feel like he’s scrutinizing your face. “Any injuries?”
“Not anything new, no.” you say, “You?”
“The same.” he sighs, dropping his hand. It’s your turn to touch his face. You hold the side of it in your hand and let your thumb graze the skin under his eye. His glasses are good to hide his eyes, you think. But you’re always close enough to see them. After the shooting, you remember something, despite the state you were in.
“You cried.” you say. He hums inquisitively at that. “When those guys barged in and stuff. When you came back after going with them, you looked like you’d been crying.”
“Not really. I was just upset.”
“Because?”
“Is there not enough reasons to be upset in this place?” he deadpans, and scoffs silently when you give him a look. “I couldn’t save Ms. An. I watched her get shot.”
You have half a mind to hold back from squeezing his head to death. “And you didn’t think it worth mentioning? That’s bad, Eunhyuk.”
“I’ve… Seen worse.”
“That’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
You look at him with wide eyes. “Take it back.”
“Or else?” he asks. Oh. Oh. He’s teasing you. What the hell? This is new. Your hand drops to grab his collar. You get deja-vu. Something similar happened before. He looks down at your hand then back up at you.
“You really want to find out, do you?”
There’s something in the air. Something you would’ve usually described as tension, but it almost feels comfortable. You know Eunhyuk well yet you can’t tell what’ll happen next. You could guess, though. Each word and touch means more now than it used to.
(Maybe they always meant something, maybe you just chose to ignore it.)
He stares at you for a few seconds then tilts his head to the side, expression unreadable. “I do.”
Your fingers tighten around his collar and he smiles. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, slowly pulling it away from him. “Hey…?”
“But I don’t think I’ll find out about anything. You’re a liar, after all. And a coward, just like me.” he says, all whilst gently pushing you to lay on the mattress. He does it so naturally it takes you a moment to realize. He hovers over you with your wrist still in hand. “Is that fine with you?”
“You insulting me or you pinning me down?”
“You decide.” he sighs, pressing your wrist down gently next to your head, “Would I be wrong to assume you don’t really mind either of those?”
You decide to shut him up instead. He takes it well.
“You taste a bit bloody.”
“Deal with it.”
#lee eunhyuk x reader#lee eun hyuk x reader#lee eunhyeok x reader#lee eun hyeok x reader#sweet home x reader#x reader
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so i’ve seen a lot of people saying that someone is going to sacrifice themselves to save everyone and i’ve seen a lot of speculation about who it’ll be but i haven’t seen anyone say i’ll be el? like i very much do not want anyone to die at all and someone might have already pointed this out but el has sacrificed herself for everyone before and idk i think it might just make sense if at the very end, the upside down ends with how it began, with el?
#i very much do not want el to die#but i also don’t want any of the others to die#but what if it’s like at the end of season 1#where el sacrifices herself but then she’s actually ok??#idk just rambling#i feel like there might be a reason i haven’t seen anyone point this out#but i just flat out don’t know what it is#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#eleven#eleven stranger things#do i have to tag all of them#el hopper#el stranger things
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📚 Cg! Clay HCS!!! 💚🎶
Aggagaggaggag first hc list I do EVERRR (so please be kind (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) /💗💗)
Cg! Clay x Agere! Reader!!
pretty much gender neutral!!
Cw: caps lock (just me having happy outbursts), um lotsa author notes and commentary I just wanna talk about him and about how he would be as a cg :ccc, also this is incredibly self indulgent
Also there was no proof reading ☠️
(Crossposted on ao3 @Soft_Buzz!! oh and I’ll update this if I get a new hc idea)
Anyways here you go 💚:
•nicknames for you: kiddo, baby, bubba, bubba wubba (he’s squeezing your cheeks and baby talking you 😭😭), prince/princess/ lil highness/royal, and a number of other sweet nicknames or any that you prefer!
•he would be suuuuuch a sweet and doting caregiver waaaaaaah but he would definitely ensue rules for you! Calm and Strict(ish) cg! Clay would pull up to make sure you are safe and healthy even if you are feeling big!!
•he’d hate to see you hurt or sick, but he’d do everything thing in his power to nurse you back to health :]!
•Clay would definitely provide his kiddo with healthy snack or with fruit or veggie cups!
•Although Clay’s sorta strict he can be soooo soft he always want to hold you, whether it’s your hand/pinkie or cuddle up with you.
•You are his battery and he wants to recharge.
* HE WOULD SOOOO READ TO YOUUUU AHHH he loooooves reading so ofc he’d love to share that interest with his little one
• (please it’s the cutest thing ever)
• imagine him beside you with a book open (he has his reading glasses on :3) and as he reads, he gives all the different characters different voices and will always put emotion into his reading voice, which always leads to you giggling or you gasping in surprise.
• One time you insisted that you were big enough for his sad book club and that you wouldn’t become a big puddle of tears so he gave you Charlotte’s Web to read.
• You were a mess. You didn’t stop being sad for the next couple of HOURS (yes this is a reference to that JD fan art ifykyk☠️)
• Clay had to give you so many hugs, cuddles, and kisses to make up for it. He thought it’d be funny, but he sorta forgot how emotional of a little one you can be.
• “I’m so so sorry baby.” *kiss* “How can I make it up to you?? I’ll do anything”
• oh you’d grin a that. You choose to either do dress up WITH make up or draw on his face and mess around with his hair. AND ice cream.
• You took soooo many pictures (and you may or may have not shared them with Viva, Poppy, and his brothers) Clay says he hates you for it, but secretly believes it was so worth it to see that sparkle in your eyes
• he bought you a piggy and a spider (with little bb spiders) stuffie. Even if you have arachnophobia, you hugged those stuffies while crying happy tears. You gave him a tight hug which he softly returned and gave you a forehead kiss.
• (This whole event was also the birth of your happy scrapbook club!! (even though it just you :} ) )
• You and Clay will just sit together while reading different things. Him with some well recognized and praised novel or book and you with a happy lil scrapbook in your hands!
• I’d also like to think he has a puppet character like Bandit does with unicorse! (Maybe a dragon but that just me :])
• (Clay and Branch be matching with their ventriloquism skills lol)
• If you seem to be clumsy or fall often he starts to develop a sort of spider sense for it and will catch you before disaster happens
• OKOK I know this is gonna sound random buuuut I believe Clay is the type to carry lollipops, and sometimes other candy, around. Idk like I can just picture him a with a lollipop in his mouth trying to look all serious/mysterious and nonchalant LOL
• ANYWAYS back to the Agere stuff
• I think that after completing a task or being good, Clay would def give his kiddo a lollipop as a treat!! that orrrrr if his kiddo seems to be regressing in public and they really want/need a paci or just something to fixate on then boom!!! Lollipop! :D
• Talking about rewards
• This man would sooooo spoil you!! you’re his treasure and he wants you to know it!!
• He’ll either get you food you’ve been craving or a stuffed animal/little gear orrrr both!!
• (Because of the two of you, you now have a chest fuuuull of stuffies Woops💧)
• You always try to show your appreciation by giving him small handmade gifts!! A lil pop up card, bead bracelets (you definitely have matching bracelets), even something crocheted/knitted, and pretty much any arts n crafts you can make!
• Now onto funny business ( •̀ - • )!
• so ofc when it first came to having fun and being playful with you he was bit scared
• can you blame him???
• He’d spent A LOT of time trying to get rid/away from the tittle of being the fun boy
• Ofc through lot of reassurance you let him know that he can have fun and play with you and still be a very serious caregiver!
• you help him understand that being funny and silly every once in a while doesn’t hurt and that he should try to find a balance that work for him! Which he eventually does :D!!
• I like to believe that he’d be great at playing pretend and hide and seek!
• “Worry not your highness!! You will protect you from the dragon!” (It’s one of your plushies)
• “Wherever could my kiddo be?? They must have turned invisible!!” (he can hear your giggles which just makes his smile wider)
• Although he really tries to be there for you, he’s a reaaaally busy man :((( but he still tries to spend time with you through parallel play! While he’s doing his grown up paperwork, you get to colooor!! (or draw or scrapbook or anything really) as long you promise to be good and not distract him
• (plus the sooner he’s done the sooner he can give you all his attention! so it’s a win-win situation :D)
• Actually if you were feeling extra lil you’d just get a paper and scribble on it with crayon trying to copy Clay’s mannerisms (when he sees this he’s physically holding himself back from just picking you up, cradling you, and just babying you waaaah you’re gonna be the end of him)
• oh and he would sooo keep your little artworks in his working area (they bring a sweet smile to his face and warm his soul you’re the best kiddo he could have ever asked for)
• You also get to have cuddles while he works! Sometimes he’ll just sit you on his lap with a stuffie or two while he wraps an arm around you and litters your head or face with kisses!
• Now onto not so funny business ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა
• sometimes Clay’ll have a rough or tiring day :((
* and that’s okk caregivers have their moments too!
• He’ll usually want to cuddle with you and hold you close. (You are his stuffie :D)
• He might even tickle you or blow raspberries on your tummy (if you give him permission ofc!!) which often leaves you with a giggling and squirming fit.
• He just loves seeing you laugh and smile (especially if it’s him who made you happy :] you just brighten his day so much sometimes)
• One time he was just so tired and just laying down on the couch and then you brought one stuffie to him and then two till you pretty much had him buried under almost all of your stuffies!!
* You then proceeded to lay on top of him, and Clay just sticks both arms out from under the pile while smiling softly with his eyes closed.
• Let’s just say you guys woke up with stuffed animals scattered eeeeeverywhere
• If you’re a kiddo/baby who tends to get overwhelmed easily, he’ll get you some noise canceling/dampening headphones and just wraps you in a soft blanket like a little burrito.
• He’ll also either get you an eye mask or will lower the lights if he can. (And if you’re feeling lil enough then a paci too!!)
• After doing any of this, he’ll just bring you onto his lap and whisper sweet lil nothings to you till you feel better or seem to fall asleep :D!
• would enforce a bed time >:( (he is a very very veeeery serious guy after all)
• but luckily bedtime means a bottle or sippy of sweet sleepy tea and a storyyyy :D!!
• Forehead kisses!! (CALL ME BIASED CAUSE I LOOOOOVE FOREHEAD KISSES but I stand by what I say.
• Oh and if he’s ever gonna to be very busy for the day and he won’t be able to take care of his kiddo, he’d ask Viva to help him take care of you!!
• Plus who doesn’t love babysitter Viva??? She’s so energetic and fun with you, but she’ll definitely tone it down for you 💛
• she’s also super strong so she’ll definitely carry you or give you a piggy back ride if you ask :>!
• She also give you lots of candies and sugary foods but shhhhh don’t tell Clay itsa secret (but I think the sugar rush/crash you have when he picks you up from Viva’s tells him more than enough
• (I feel like he would trust all his brothers with you (especially Bruce) except JD 😭😭)
• He would sooooo grab your cheeks and squeeze them like he did to Branch when first seeing him again
• Expect him to do that whenever he just wants to dote on you and baby you even if you’re feeling bigger than usual he just loves youuuu! 💚💚💚
In summary: I need this man bc he is the bestest boyfriend and caregiver ever!!
Final notes!:
I love likes but comments and reposts are greatly appreciate (I love to talk if you can’t tell) type something out and let me know what you think 💗💗
If anybody would like to use any of the hcs/scenarios for a fanfic tots fine with me just don’t forget to tag me for credit and so I can see it :DD!!
#I’m saying this even though there’s like NO ONE under the agere tag for this fandom.#Which is surprising like where are you all???? Huh?!?! Huh?!?!#Like c’mon it’s agere galore! Colors! Music! AND Family reunion and Love!!#Plus two great and amazing and lovable villains#Branch was literally abandoned as a baby! (Plus other brothers also have problems/struggles)#Just take the bait and write/do Agere stuff for them!! 😭😭(help I sound mean but I meant that in a nice way)#but I get it the fandom feels like it’s dying on here. I just got here y’all don’t die on me already 😭😭)#(Genuinely don’t think anyone wanted this but oh well I’m sending it out to the world with a mission to complete#which is bring happiness!!)#(mostly for myself tho lol)#I can’t believe I did all of this instead of a college essay#trolls agere#clay#sfw agere#trolls 3#age regression#being brave out here and using clay x reader in the post just to see what happens#if i get any hatred i’ll immediately remove it :/
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I can perfectly picture a Batman: Wayne Family Adventures two-partner that properly introduces Harvey Dent, Two-Face, their relationships with Bruce and vice versa. But I can't draw in the slightest. So I'm going to script it and you'll have to use your imagination. It’s a little longer than the average WFA two-parter. But given how many thoughts and feelings I have about Harvey, I’d say it’s impressively concise. For me. If you like how I write Harvey, I recommend my fanfic spotlighting him as a teenager, compared to which I must warn you this script is positively fluffy. Read it on AO3 here! If you want to draw any of this, please tell me in advance and use the updated original post or the AO3 fic, not necessarily your reblog.
A Second Opinion
Part 1
[Panel one. Vertical rectangle, full screen. Nighttime. The exterior of an abandoned building that is notably more decrepit on the right side, Two-Face's current base of operations, from a distance and high angle. The Batmobile is parked outside. Bruce as Batman is seen on the rooftop from behind, striding stiffly toward the skylight. A speech bubble floats in the air above him.]
Barbara: Are you sure you don't want backup?
[Panel two. Barbara as Oracle watches with a frown of wary concern at her desk in the Clocktower.]
I know these confrontations are very personal for you -
[Panel three. Bruce leans over the skylight seen from below it, about to kick it in. His fists and jaw are clenched, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed sharply; even for Batman on a mission, he's in a bad mood.]
Bruce: I'm fine. I have him right where I want him.
[A speech bubble floats in the space below the panel.]
Harvey: I have him right where I want him!
[Panel four. Fade into a flashback. In stark contrast to the dull and dark blues, greys and blacks of the present scene, the flashback panels are full of light, saturated and warm colours. Harvey Dent stands at a round red table outside a café on a sunny day, beaming. He's a handsome, sturdy man with neat, short black hair, a semi-formal brown suit and wide brown eyes. He was seated, but has risen and slammed his palms down on the table in his enthusiuam. Slightly low angle, like the camera is on the table, and to the right so we have a better view of his left side. A gold wedding ring gleams on his finger. His introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent, District Attorney. Gotham’s best lawyer, technically and morally.’.]
And think of the implications! If the Salvatore Maroni can face justice, so can anyone.
[Panel five. He paces a little behind his chair, gesturing animatedly. Motion lines trail and curve around the other way behind him. His right side is now in profile. Same angle, but pulled back to see over the shoulder of a younger Bruce wearing a nondescript black shirt.]
If his empire can crumble, so can any criminal organization or corrupt institution, no matter how powerful. This trial could be a beacon of hope for Gotham. Proof that the law can actually help people, that the spirit of it is alive.
[Panel six. Opposite Harvey, Bruce is sitting comfortably. He has notable eyebags and less light in his eyes than Harvey, but smiles in earnest admiration.]
Bruce: I think you're right. Maroni used to own the city, but ever since you, Jim and Batman started working together...
[Panel seven. Side shot of both of them from Bruce's right and Harvey's left, showing them down to their legs. Bruce leans forward. Harvey has sat back down. In the background, their memories conjure a vision of Batman and Harvey shaking hands before the Bat-Signal. The figures' lower halves fade to translucent above and behind their real counterpart's heads. That Harvey is smiling too and the one leaning forward, while Batman's mouth is a flat line but his eyes are soft.]
things have changed more than I could have imagined.
Harvey: I just hope we can keep it up. Maybe in a few years, Gotham won't need a Batman.
[Panel eight. Close-up on the right half of Bruce's face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of shock and vulnerability, although he isn’t offended. He has simply never considered being able to end his crusade before. Panel nine. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]
Bruce: Do you really believe that?
[Panel ten. Closer front shot of Harvey at eye-level. We can now see that he actually does have bags under his eyes. He's more pensive and his smile drops.]
Harvey: Yeah. I mean, Bats is a great guy. I don't want him to just disappear. But his methods...
[Panel eleven. Deep shot. Two petty crooks run through an alleyway at night while Batman looms behind them atop a ledge, a huge, hulking silhouette crouched animalistically with piercing white eyes and clawed fingers raised to pounce. The scene is somewhat abstracted to highlight the criminals' emotions. The alley walls seem to be closing in on them and Batman's curling cape flows into the surrounding darkness. Angle is above the very small-looking criminals, but below Batman such that his striking, soulless eyes glare right at the reader. Harvey's speech bubbles are in the top left and bottom right corners, framed by the blackness.]
fighting violence with violence and terror with terror... they're hardly ideal, are they?
[Panel eleven. Harvey places his right hand on Bruce's left arm in pride, who is too busy processing to return his smaller, softer smile of personal affection. Side shot from Harvey's left and Bruce's right that cuts them off at the torso.]
In my opinion, the work you're doing with the Wayne Foundation does better at lowering crime rates in the long run.
[Panel twelve. Over-the-shoulder shot again, Harvey's this time to show Bruce full of love, relaxing and leaning into the touch.]
Bruce: Well, in my opinion, you're a better person than me or Batman.
[His second speech bubble descends into the empty space.]
And I’d love to see the day Batman can retire.
[Panel thirteen and fourteen occupy different vertical halves of the screen and the same horizontal space for half of their lengths, the former higher, the second lower. The first shows Harvey from the right cut off at the thighs, in a courtroom, delivering some kind of unwritten passionate declaration; on his left and in the background, the defendant, the aforementioned crime boss Maroni in a nice black suit, holds an opaque bottle labelled as cough medicine and smirks viciously. The second is a close-up of Harvey’s head on the floor. Only the right half of his face is visible, the left turned away, and he is howling in unfathomable agony, tears streaming down his cheek. The stem of his speech bubble reaches down to the top of panel fifteen. This is a straightforward frontal shot of Bruce in the present. He stands tense and grim, poised to throw a Batarang with his right arm. Silver moonbeams shine through the broken skylight. Layered in front of the panel’s top border and behind Bruce, Harvey’s scream appears to ring through the cowl’s bat ears and extends continuously offscreen in extra large, blood-red lettering. The bubble fades around it to make it stand against the background.]
Harvey: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Bruce: Two-Face.
[Panel sixteen. Same angle of Harvey and Two-Face. The left half of their face is ravaged by raw, pink chemical burn scars and has a bloodshot eye with burned lids; even their right eye is sunken and shadowed with a menacing glint; their hair is the same on the right, but bleached white, longer and wild on the left; they wear an angular, elegant suit divided vertically in alternating black and white. They’re smiling smugly, posture calm, confident and commanding. Their right hand aims a pistol at Bruce, and the camera. The other hand, bereft of a ring, holds their two-headed coin. Their introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent & Two-Face. All the drive. Fractional sanity. Half the morals, or less.’. The outlines of their speech bubbles are smooth as usual on the right and rough and scribbled on the left when both alters in the system are in relative cooperation - a dual consciousness referred to as ‘H/TF’ in the script - completely smooth when the still goodhearted, but deeply troubled Harvey is speaking alone, and completely irregular for the much more merciless, callous Two-Face personality alone.]
H/TF: Bats! Let us guess: you didn’t bring any backup because you have a self-righteous hero complex about us in particular?
[Panel seventeen. Closer frontal shot of Bruce scowling and hunching his shoulders in shameful concession.]
Two-Face: Good. Those Robins are nothing but trouble.
[Panel eighteen. Long rectangle panning down the room. Bruce and H/TF are in the background as H/TF gesture with their left arm to two men dressed like high-level businessmen in the foreground, tied to chairs with a gun pressed to each of their heads by H/TF's identical twin henchmen. The captives are bruised, cut and slumped in exhaustion.]
H/TF: Now, take one step toward us and the hostages get it. Don't go feeling sorry for them. They work for Oswald Cobblepot. His reform is fake -
H/TF and Bruce: Obviously.
H/TF: And they've already told us everything.
[Panel nineteen. Horizontal side shot from Bruce's left and H/TF's right, to frame the hostages between them.]
H/TF: But if you go after us, you'll lose your best lead on his criminal activities.
Bruce: And people will be dead.
H/TF: Yeah, whatever.
[Panel twenty. Close shot of H/TF from the left. They look left, contemplating their coin in their open hand. One face is corroded and blackened by acid, the other shiny and clean, both visible as it's drawn in a motion frame while spinning.]
You say that making our decisions based on chance is irrational and unhealthy, but believing in free will isn't all roses either. So many tough choices.
[Panel twenty-one is small box in the middle of the screen capturing the impact of the Batarang knocking the gun out of one of the henchmen's hand. H/TF's speech bubble floats in the space below it.]
There's never a win-win, is there?
[Panel twenty-two, a vertical rectangle. In the lower foreground and to the right, a gleeful H/TF bolt to the slight right of the camera, relishing both their escape and how unhappy their enemy is. In the background, Bruce restrains the armed henchman with a bolas while knocking the unarmed one out behind him with a backhanded blow. His cape billows with his rapid movement.]
At least the coin lets us be unpredictable!
[Panel twenty-three. Angle is essentially Bruce's POV. H/TF glance over their right shoulder, showing their unscarred features twisted in mockery, and sarcastically wave with their gun. They're just beyond the doorway.]
By the way, we're very good at getting two things done at once. You might wanna check your car.
[Panel twenty-four. Outside. Bruce's shadow falls from below the border diagonally over the Batmobile. Its tyres are slashed. Its fuel is leaking out into a puddle underneath it. In the next panel, we see him at eye height past the front end of the car. He has fallen to his knees, head hung.]
Bruce: Oracle? You were right. I need help.
[The black sheen of the Batmobile fades into a flat black background below. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]
Barbara: You've already got it.
[Panel twenty-six. The first two sentences are in a bubble at the top, connected to the final sentence’s one dead in the middle. She's viewed from behind at a low angle looking up at her computer monitor. Her shoulders are assertively squared. Her security camera footage is split in two; Bruce and the crippled Batmobile are in the left window and H/TF's getaway car (also black on one side and white on the other) racing along a road in the right.]
We've been gathering intel. We know where Two-Face will strike next - and you know him as well as he knows you. Let's make a plan B.
Part 2
[Panel one. Distant establishing shot of a brightly lit black-tie gala in a vast, ornate hall, the tasteful decor dominated by white, light blues and silver. A caption informs us that this is 'The Cobblepot 'Charity' Gala'. Oswald Cobblepot is in the heart of the crowd, shaking hands with some official. Bruce Wayne is within earshot, but nearer the double doors. Panel two is a lower, tighter horizontal rectangle where Oswald and his guests are staring at the camera with tiny black dots for eyes in alarm at the doors slamming open. H/TF’s shadow falls over the floor. Panel three shows that Harvey and Two-Face have invited themselves, holding an assault rifle in both hands. Three smaller vertical panels on alternating sides of the screen show the doors being locked by pairs of Two-Face's minions in contrasting, complemetary outfits and wielding guns. The bird’s eye view of panel seven makes it clear that the guests are surrounded and trapped. Panel eight cuts back to H/TF.]
H/TF: Good evening, scum and enablers. We're -
[Panel nine takes us closer to focus on their - or rather, Harvey's - surprise.]
Harvey: Bruce? What are you doing here?
[Panel ten is a frontal shot of Bruce, like the camera's been reversed in the same position. His confusion is an act, but his concern is real.]
Bruce: I'm the richest man in Gotham and this is a high-society gala. What are you doing here?
[Panel eleven. Side shot that doesn’t show the scarring. Harvey lowers the gun, eyes softening as Bruce reaches out to him.]
I thought we agreed that you still needed treatment.
Harvey: I…
[Panel twelve. Frontal short. Remembering his mission, Harvey loses a degree of control and the two embittered alters lightly push Bruce away and point the gun straight ahead at Oswald with a glare. Motion lines trail from their arm.]
H/TF: That doesn’t matter! What matters is taking down the Penguin!
[Panel thirteen. Oswald presses a hand to his chest, somehow at once mortified and supercilious. You can hear the melodramatic sad violin. Beside him, his associates are cowering and aghast.]
Oswald: Why, everyone knows that I’m reformed. Attacking me when I’m doing good just proves how far you’ve fallen.
[Panel fourteen. H/TF snap at him furiously, and their speech bubble is large, spiky (still with the different texturing) and has a red outline for emphasis. Their eyes are stylized as flames; their right eye’s flame is orange and the left’s blue. Bruce is giving Oswald an intense sidelong glare. His lettering is smaller and his bubble's outline dashed to indicate that he's speaking under his breath.]
H/TF: SHUT UP!
Bruce: Shut up.
[Panel fifteen. Wide low angle shot up into the shadowy rafters. Damian, Dick and Tim are hiding in their vigilante identities and watching the scene below intently, at the ready. Their speech bubbles are dashed as they’re whispering. Damian is tense like a coiled spring, hand is on the hilt of his sword. Dick’s facial expression is blatantly disdainful of the villain in question, but his position and body language are calmer. Tim is all business.]
Damian: Shouldn’t we -
Tim: Not until the signal, remember? We don’t want to escalate and endanger the civilians.
[Panel sixteen. Close-up profile shot of Dick.]
Dick: Yeah, I hate Two-Face, but Bruce has got through to Harvey before.
[Panel seventeen. H/TF aim their gun with their right hand as their left reaches into their pocket to take out their coin. Their jaw is tight in composed ire. Diagonal angle to show Bruce on their right, overlaid by the gun. HT/F's speech bubble is near their head, but Harvey's is under the panel-dividing horizontal line of the gun.]
H/TF: You have the right to remain silent, forever.
Harvey: Bruce, get out of here.
[Panel eighteen, a square. Bruce is alone in the frame. He folds his arms, Batman's stern, steely presence creeping into his expression and posture.]
Bruce: Whatever you're willing to do to those people, you can do to me.
[Panel ninteen. Same composition with H/TF. They frown, the unscarred features looking regretful while the scarred ones look annoyed and disdainful.]
H/TF: Fine. Just stay out of our way.
[Panel twenty. Close up as they flip their coin. We get the blurring motion displaying both sides again. The next panel is a repeat shot where Bruce’s right hand snatches the coin in midair.]
H/TF: HEY! Give it back!
[Panel twenty-one. Extreme close-up, narrow horizontal parallelogram focused on Bruce's defiant stare. His speech bubble floats close underneath.]
Bruce: No.
[Panel twenty-two. He holds the coin out of reach. The camera is angled over and to the side of Bruce's left shoulder, to put as much visual distance between his outstretched right hand and H/TF as possible, Bruce's body in between them. H/TF’s left hand is balled into fist around the lowered gun while their right gestures like they’re arguing a case in a courtroom. They look resentful, but also coldly resigned. The speech bubbles can extend out of the panel. In the backgroud, some of the guests are depicted as simplified, featureless figures.]
H/TF: They aren’t worth sticking your neck out for. Nobody in Gotham is -
Harvey: I learned that the hard way.
Bruce: And I’ve learned otherwise. This won’t make things better, Harvey.
[Panel twenty-three. Two-Face fixes the gun on Bruce with a sadistic, unhinged snarl that’s distinctly his own.]
Two-Face: Listen, Wayne, I don’t care for you a bit. Give us our coin back or I’ll -
[Panel twenty-four. Bruce raises an eyebrow.]
Bruce: But what if it’s good heads?
[Panel twenty-five. Two-Face freezes. A ‘Twitch’ sound effect is at the corner of his right eye. Panel twenty-seven. A henchman aims his own gun with nervous eagerness.]
Henchman: I'll get your coin for you, boss!
[Panel twenty-six. The vigilantes leap down from the rafters. Dick's already thrown a Wingding to disarm him that flies downward rotating and seems to cut the shape of the panel, which has a tapering lower end.]
Dick: No!
[Large red 'BANG!' sound effect between panels. Panel twenty-seven is a small box in the middle of the screen showing the Wingding knocking the smoking gun away a split-second too late. Panel twenty-eight. Bruce and Harvey in the background and the bullet in the foreground are centred. Harvey slams into Bruce and knocks him down with his full weight, briefly putting himself in the path of the bullet.]
Harvey: Bruce!
[Panel twenty-nine. Long, vertical rectangle panning down from above the vigilantes standing in dramatic heroic landing poses at the top of the frame, wearing varyingly emotive expressions of shock, to Bruce lying propped up by his elbow and Harvey on his hands and knees at the bottom. The discarded assault rifle hits the floor between Harvey and the vigilantes with a 'Clatter' sound effect in yellow, uneven text. The coin slips out of Bruce's hand with a motion line to rest between him and Harvey. Panel thirty. Angle at eye level with Bruce and Harvey. Bruce sits up. He stares at Harvey with shining eyes and the beginnings of a smile as he processes what just happened, and what didn’t precede it.]
Bruce: You saved my life.
[Panel thirty-one. Angle is behind Bruce’s head. Harvey avoids eye contact, showing Bruce his unscarred profile. He’s solemn and though he too has a relieved hint of a smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes.]
Harvey: You never stop trying to save me. It was the least I could do.
[Panel thirty-two. Harvey’s POV. Low angle, tilted up at Bruce on his feet, offering his hand to help him up. We can tell that it’s Harvey’s perspective with both eyes because the left half of the image is dim and blurry due to the damage the acid did to his left eye. The speech bubbles are exclusively on the right.]
Bruce: It isn’t too late, Harvey. You can still heal. You can get better, be better.
[Panel thirty-three. Close-up on the right half of Harvey’s face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of tentative, wary hope and raw vulnerability. He has wanted to end his crusade throughout its duration, but never been able to. Panel thirty-four. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]
Harvey: Do you really believe that?
[Panel thirty-five. Side shot that now only shows the side shot of Harvey’s face. Bruce kneels down be closer to eye level with him.]
Bruce: Yes. Always, I’ve been where you are. Feeling like you can never be more than all your pain and anger. But if you want a second opinion, I think you’re a better person than you know.
[Panel thirty-four. A square in the middle of the screen. Harvey’s right hand reaches out to Bruce’s waiting one, but lingers, tense and trembling, above the coin. Panel thirty-five. Vertical rectangle. Harvey shrinks in on himself, hunched over with his face buried in his arms and hands clutching his hair; perhaps he doesn’t trust himself not to pick up the coin and give Two-Face a means to make harmful decisions, just can’t make another choice of his own or both. Around him blackness with spiky, scribbled inner edges consume the screen like reality is fracturing or dissolving, or some all-consuming destructive force is coming for him.]
Harvey: Just… just take us to Arkham. We deserve it. We need help.
[The black extends, replacing the white background. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]
Bruce: You’ve already got it.
[Fade into panel thirty-six. Horizontal rectangle. Distant, high angle. The black lightens to purple and becomes the night sky, which is warming to pink at the first moment of dawn. Harvey is handcuffed, about to enter a police car on his right. A cop is escorting him. However, Bruce has his left arm around his shoulders and they’re both in relatively good moods, similar to how they were in the flashback.]
Harvey: When did you get so optimistic, Mr Gothic McBrooding?
Bruce: Someone has to be. And hey, I had a good teacher.
#i would DIE AND GO TO HEAVEN if somebody drew any of this#the tone of wfa makes a softer happier bruce and harvey friendship story that they desperately need fit so well!#GIVE US THE HURT/COMFORT#but then again#at this point i kind of don’t want wfa to give harvey more focus because they won’t do it like this#featuring:#harvey being a fundamentally good person!#harvey and bruce being best friends and soft with each other!#bruce’s faith in harvey getting rewarded by the end!#two-face also having good intentions and targeting other criminals as a dark mirror to batman with none of the restraint#bruce being a foil to both harvey and two-face with several thematic verbal and visual parallels between them#a tragically hopeful flashback to before the maroni trial!#bruce having guilt and trauma over harvey that makes him especially vulnerable when they clash!#the objectively best two-face suit design of half-black and half-white#harvey and two-face knowing batman so well (without even knowing that he’s bruce) that they can very effectively outwit him#babs as oracle being cooler and doing a better job than bruce (offscreen but still)!#two-face’s hatred of all the robins!#dick’s hatred of him right back!#harvey dent#two-face#bruce wayne#batman#bruce and harvey#batman: wayne family adventures#wayne family adventures#bwfa#wfa
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People should be more afraid of asexuals, because they’re the only people that are immune to one of the seven deadly sins
#seven deadly sins#maybe they have metaphorical lust. lust for the aesthetic#asexual#we also should fear aromantics but they aren’t necessarily immune to lust so fear them for the usual reasons#pride? sometimes can be negated by self-hatred but usually shows up when you do something to be proud of. as it should#greed? you might donate your money to orphans but if anyone touches your collection of shiny trinkets their hand will be removed#envy? unless you have never met any other living beings I don’t think it’s possible to escape this one#wrath? work in public service for a week and we’ll get you wanting to fistfight god#gluttony? eating disorders are a thing; however you should definitely eat something unless you wanna die#sloth? insomnia is a thing. but you should probably sleep if you don’t want to be driven mad upon the rocks#honestly too little of the seven deadly sins is also bad. no sloth? you’re barely functioning. no gluttony? you die of starvation.#no wrath? you’ll become a doormat. no envy? you’ll never want to improve yourself. no greed? you give all your stuff away and are now poor#no pride? you don’t love yourself AT ALL. no lust? no new generation.#and frankly that last one isn’t bad in the slightest considering that much is also true for people with a same-gender significant other#(unless they are also trans and willing but that’s a them problem to have)#plus overpopulation is a thing anyway so frankly the less lust the better.#the avatar of lust has been too overworked the past few decades and and wants a damn break for once#tw eating issues#tw eating disorder#eating disorder mention#shitpost
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i love you animal symbolism
#like obviously i’m the dog motif guy but literally any animal symbolism is sooooo#like mq animal symbolism >>>#sharks and mice and wolves and butterflies#what that says about you — not just what you get but what you wanted to get#i’m a shark and i’m going to take you down. he smells blood in the water he’s gonna kill my pig and there’s nothing i can do#because i’m soft i’m a kid again im a mouse and im loyal and humble and a real team player! and that’s what will be my downfall#but it’s also what’s going to save me#why would a mouse choose foam over a delicious cookie? i don’t know. why would he? why would i?#i just got a little upset when you said i wasn’t a lion. you’re nothing without me#lions hunt in packs they’re sthe leaders. but i’m telling you that you dont get a pack you dont get someone to lean on and you will always#be alone.#then succession animal symbolism is like: youre a scorpion and i’m a snake and we are going to die at each others hands#it’s already written. we know the ending#im a dog and i’m mean and sharp and vicious#i’m a dog and i’m loyal and trusting#i’m a dog and i need to be kicked and i beg you to kick me because it’s all i know#you come for me with love?#lock me in a cage and feed me dog food (or chocolate cake but who knows) and i’ll never eat again#send me away until everyone knows their place#beat me with a slipper in gstaad for ordering lobster because it’s rude to order the most expensive thing on the menu when you’re not payin#because dogs don’t get a sliver platter they get a bowl of dog food in a cold wire cage#they get the scraps and they thank you for it#so you come for me with love?#you come in here guns ablazing to find they’ve turned to fucking sausages and you come for me with love?#jeez that’s a lot of tags#mythic quest#mq#succession#succession hbo
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man does anyone else just constantly forget neji died?? i was rewatching the war arc and got to it like HUH OH YEAH like i remember shikaku and inoichi more than him because i just didn’t like the writing for his and repressed it too much so now whenever i see any reference to it my brain blue screens for like 20 seconds straight
#it simply does not compute#like don’t get me wrong im into tragedy and well written character deaths ALWAYS get me#but idk i just thought neji was a poor choice if you HAD to kill one of the konoha twelve off#not that i WANTED any of them to die but i do think someone else would have been a better option#or killing off more than one would have balanced it better#and then it was also just how it was crammed between all the other big events so we had to rush past it#shout out to the fillers always knowing naruto deaths aren’t striking hard enough and giving the dead characters more significance lol#can always tell someone is about to die when the fillers start giving them all the meaningful moments rip#idk though even the folllow up grieving and references just didn’t add enough#plus how it kind of just contradicted the main goal of the series idk#i just don’t like it so my brain is just like what death???#probably would stick better if i ever rewatched post war or if i watched boruto though#but i dont so i continue to relive the ‘wtf why :/‘ every time i remember it lol#naruto shippuden spoilers#naruto spoilers#?????#does anyone need that tag???#idk i added it in case
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#nonbinary#(saved this bc the first tweet op posted felt mean and made me uncomfortable)#but I still wanted to vent about this because what is restraint and boundaries online amirite#so here we go again:#I feel uncomfortable being called my irl name everywhere except at work and I feel like that’s bc the worksona i crafted#is so irontight that I’m fine being a Lady there but it low-key rankles me anywhere else#idk if that’s a gender thing or just a case of apathy and extreme alienation from myself though#I’d rather die than ever talk to my co-workers about other pronouns or anything though bc the gossip would spread throughout work within-#the hour. and it’s not like people would be really awkward about it (I hope) because I think I’m generally liked by my coworkers. but I’d#hate to be pitied or misunderstood. and it’s not like i have dysphoria or anything so I don’t personally feel justified in calling myself#trans. I’m just alienated from womanhood. but that could also be because i don’t have an interest in most socially-expected ‘woman things’#and bc I’m not mentally well or het. and that inherently separates you from the expected Girl Experience.#this is really rambly and nonsensical okay I guess if I really thought about it I’d love to be called Krill by everyone because it has less#baggage and feels more like me. but i’m not necessarily upset at being called my RL name. I don’t have dysphoria I just have mild ick.#like I’d prefer being considered a They and not being expected to be any gender at all. but it doesn’t kill me inside y’know#it’s fine.#if you read through this weird personal ramble then thanks ig?
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when ppl use tone tags it’s amplified for me like what is /srs did u mean /Serious🗿
#online sm i make this emoji face irl.^^ it’s awful#i need buddies😡😡#i love the internet because it makes me aware of how beautiful things are#but also um it makes me sad because i’m going to die without friends#i CAN imagine if we never met the broskis):#gf was like (dating app that has a friends option)? BRAH!!! never ever#they’ll just wna fuck me and i’ll be sad#because i Like being affectionate witj my friends n intimacy but idk#the line between joking around kissin ur pal on the cheek and having sex with ur pal is so thin around here!#it scares me because what if i can’t find connection without sex#i have all the sex i need ok and i used to be overly sexual. it didn’t go well but it was the only time i had friends when i was willing to#be sexy with any of them at any time#theyd get hurt if you were like ‘oh tht was just a one time thing’ means i’m being monogamous and lame or whatever#one time it turned into i ‘used’ them likeejgjfjr WE MADE OUT AT A PARTY and after that they thought we were gonna make out whenever we saw#each other. at the time i had two partners and i wasn’t looking lol it was just a kiss!#but everyone got mad at me and said i used them for sex (we didn’t have sex) and also that i ~lead them on~#we were kissing for less than ten minutes too#grow the fuck up. honestly#also???? for the record i would LOVE to bone a friend here and there but i DON’T want ANY expectations for more#it’s just too much presh for me when ppl are like oh we’re in a relationship now! after we fuck#even fwb is a relationship.. situationship.. flirtationship. hook up. softting. like#there’s way too much for me i just want to get a lil jiggy with it couple times a yr. and watch my gf kiss girls thy would be so nice#anyway.. /Serious🗿#toxictranny
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I’ve destroyed it all. The circumstances are not my fault; nevertheless, I am the straw that broke the camel’s back. I am the thousandth paper cut needed to end a life. I am innocent on my own; but with everything behind me I will be the one to bring destruction. I don’t want to be the cause. I never wanted this. I saw it coming miles away and I did it anyway; the worst part is that I see exactly where it’s going. Please let my intuition be wrong for once. This doesn’t feel real.
#I’m going to be fine. I’m about the only person who’s going to be fine.#We were born of the fire and now we shall die in the fire#exjw#pomo#Yes; POMO. But at what cost?#If it weren’t for the cult; we wouldn’t be together#If it weren’t for the cult; we’d still be together#I know I bitch and snark a lot but I don’t hate them. I love them. I think they’re good people and I like them. Genuinely.#I don’t blame them for everything. I can’t blame them for everything just like I can’t blame myself for everything#None of us are breaking us apart; a concept is. A concept that has more power than the bond between parent and child#ex cult#vent tw#I hate this I want it to end.#I want for none of us to be hurting or afraid anymore. I want us to be free to be with one another and be ourselves#I want us to love each other regardless of who we love#I’ve made it clear that I will not cut them off. If there is ever any restriction of communication between us; it will not be on my end#It’s such a silly thing too. I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t done anything unspeakable. I’m an upstanding member of society#I just want to exist as I am. That is all.#What makes a cult isn’t just not being allowed to make your own decisions#it is also when the rules of the religion punish you unnecessarily for making normal decisions that should not cause turmoil
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i think the witcher makes me feel a profound sadness every night because it’s about all the things we love so much, or that we wish we had, but can never get back. the tragedy of the uncontrollable. the pain of loss.
ciri, despite her youth and innocence, loses her home and family and then she even her adoptive parents, and then she even loses her youth and her innocence, and is left with nothing but a grotesque scar symbolizing her trauma that doesn’t fit her childlike face and a hardened, green glare. and a sword, which is only a burden.
her parents, despite their incredible love for her, despite all of their agony and sacrifice to get her back, despite their own loss of their honor, their pride, their blood — they lose her too. they lose a child, the most tragic loss of all.
dandelion loses his best friend, clutching at his memories like the weeds growing by loch eskalott, trying to grasp the last twenty years to write his memoires.
milva hears her father’s words when she shoots, and his wheezing echoes in her mind.
regis lost himself, his entire life, all the people he ever loved and chased away.
cahir, despite his large family that loves him more than imperial orders, can never return to darn dyffrya, feel the sun on his face in vicovaro ever again.
angoulême wonders if her mother would have loved her had she not abandoned her, imagines what her hand patting her head in praise could have felt like.
and then geralt loses them. all of them, one by one.
and nimue, reading about it all, can never meet the figures of the legend she has obsessed over for years and years… she has her part to play in it, she can know their voices from dialogues and know their faces from etchings, but will never be able to tell them she loves them, tell them how much they mean to her.
even when they find what they’re searching for, even when they find what they’ve desired so — it’s only for a bittersweet moment. they shortly lose it again. everyone in this series is so intertwined together and caught in the same snare of destiny, and at the very same time so very alone and abandoned
#additional edit: this textpost brought to you by carolina in my mind#edit: and no one’s loss is the exact same! even though there are parallels — everyone suffers differently.#i used to feel guilty describing my experience as ‘loss’ because it wasn’t pertaining to death and that’s typically what loss insinuates#but you can lose so many things outside of death. and inside of death i don’t rule that out — but for me at least#the witcher books made me realize there are soooo sooo many ways to suffer and girl i’m not special lol#like all the protagonists experience this horrid sadness and tragedy and they KEEP LIVING and then they SUFFER EVEN MORE and then they DIE#and its like omg thats horrifying but like that didnt make the read any less enjoyable. in fact it made it more so#if they just were happy all the time there would be no story#so it made me realize that even if you are suffering or even if you have lost. life is still worth living#and also that rage and ‘bad’ emotions and selfishness and all these evil things that rise up from within a person are in fact natural#the creation of children of contempt seems almost unavoidable in the world we live in#but the point is that you cant stay a child of contempt. you have to humble yourself or someone else (BONHART) will humble you#dont hurt others or leo bonhart will snatch that beret with the rooster feather right off your ashen-blonde head#the witcher books#txt#analysis#kind of? analysis: a big theme in this is loss. lol kind of obvious not really groundbreaking you’ll have to forgive me#f: a hansa's a hansa#f: i want to see the sky#damn who would think a war saga would be a tragedy smh#obv /s#personal
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Aw man, just reread my document I wrote on my speculation on how the metagene works & how modern DC could rewrite it to being a result of retroviruses & transposons and man, I really wish I finished that post.
Unfortunately, the reason I stopped was explaining it all down to the point where someone with little genetic knowledge could still understand it proved to be too lengthy and long winded of a task.
Maybe one day I’ll pour myself back into research & finish that speculative paper. Bc I had a whole fun idea that relied on that background information that was about the Daily Planet reporting on the discovery of an entire city of metas with similar meta abilities. The town faced such high levels of radiation and contamination, only the population with the meta gene survived:(
#The meta ability was just super perfect cell replication.#No changes outward. They appear perfectly normal#to be clear. ppl still age. the power is just that their cells are super good at replicating the way they’re meant to#Zero chance of tumors or damaged DNA due to the radiation because their meta ability just resumes them to their previous state.#the city blows up afterward in the news cycle due to people trying to go there so they don’t die from cancer.#and don’t have a risk of cancer BUT THE CITY IS STILL IRRADIATED AS HELL AND THE PPL THAT ENTER CANNOT LEAVE#DUE TO THEM BECOMING SO RADIOACTIVE THEYRE A HAZARD TO BE CLOSE TO WITHOUT PPE#i just thought it was such a fun idea and me being me I overthink the shit outta things & made it super long and overcomplicated#because I wanted people to also learn what retroviruses & transposons were bc they’re cool as hell#and by the time I wrote 5K words on it#I didn’t want to take the shortcut and just embed other ppl’s videos explaining it bc I had already put too much effort into it#for me to delete that research#bones speaks#the cause? the city was built ontop a large kryptonite meteor.#and someone (cough cough LexCorp. but no one actually has enough legal proof to say it’s them)#and when it’s investigated. it appears that someone (cough cough LexCorp. there’s not any legal proof that can pin it on them.#so lexcorp once again escapes scott free without evidence of villany)#has been digging tunnels under the city and excavating it. the excavation not following proper mining protocols caused the city’s ground#and water supply to become extremely irradiated to the point where it’s like when ppl were just eating & drinking uranium products.#actually imma stop myself here & make this it’s own post#anyways. the radioactive bit gets figured out due to the poorly constructed tunnels collapsing and the city conducting an investigation#leading to a ‘oh shit. the Geiger counter is saying this sinkhole is Super radioactive.’#to ‘HOLY SHIT THATS THE ENTIRE TOWN’#to ‘wait fuck how are we still alive? to ‘a weirdly high percentage of folks in the town had metagenes so not a super significant amount#of ppl has died from abnormal lookin cancer.’ to ‘oh my god everyone that doesn’t have the meta gene here is slowly dying get them Out Now’#bones writes in the tags#anyways. that’s kinda the story#I’ll rewrite the tags into a proper post and see if I can revise it so my paper isn’t needed to make some plot points work#bc it’s a Far simpler explanation than the one I wrote in the doc so I’ll base it off of this version instead
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honk shoo.
#but yeah sleepy.#i have so much to do these next few days I’m gonna die#meanwhile I just wanna see my friends#the good thing is that some of the busy things involve seeing my friends but goddamn why are almost all of them hard#also YES I’m going to be dumb and gay again bc a) why shouldn’t I b) nobody can stop me#I’m being dumb and gay again.#now seen The Guy twice since I’ve been back and he’s very cool#still feel like I’m being insane god idk what I’m doing#I hope he comes tomorrow bc he can’t make the meeting which means he won’t be on committee which sucks bc he did want to#OH but I did mean to tell him there was one role he could go for and have a good shot at that I think he’d be good for#only problem is if he doesn’t come tomorrow I can’t tell him in time bc I don’t have any way to message him other than email#(which feels slightly creepy bc I only know it bc secretary and he’s never explicitly said his surname so it’s just inferred from the list)#idk. the thing that gets me is we are very much friends now. like early stages of friends but we keep talking at hockey#and importantly he keeps coming To Me which keeps surprising me bc he does it more than any of my other friends#but I guess I’m also coming to him kinda a lot too. self awareness falls when around cute boy you get how it is#god it’s so unfair why is he like this#I finished getting my skates off before he did yesterday which gave me a very good opportunity to Look while he was talking#and have it not be weird and he’s just very pretty. he’s got a rlly nice nose#i always feel insane pointing out noses it’s the Draw speaking bc I use noses as a focal point and they’re fun to draw#tbh it’s unlikely I will say someone does Not have a nice nose but idk let me have this. it would be fun to draw is maybe what I mean#and I hadn’t noticed before bc the like bridge? and uhh like. base? idk nose words but they don’t match#the bridge is super long and on the thin side w a bump like mine but the like bottom is much rounder and wider and I don’t see that mix much#he also just has rlly nice hair it’s super curly and he’s in that like weird light brown purgatory where it’s all different colours#like it’s mostly light brown but some bits look rlly dark and some especially at the ends is like almost blonde and it changes w the light#god he also keeps doing this dumb fucking thing where he’s trying to skate while squatting all the way and it’s ridiculous#he looks like a spider folding in on itself and the worst part is he can fucking do it#he’s gotten so good at skating recently and I have a feeling he lives somewhere with an ice rink bc I’m sure he’s better than he was novembr#yeah I also got to just stand and watch him play yesterday and it’s so incredibly horribly unfair#anyway I’m too fucking gay and I will not let him escape me again tomorrow I Will get his instagram or smth bc I swear this man#luke.txt
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