#i was gonna say something else about this scene
Text
I'll Pick You Up at 8
Spencer Agnew x gender neutral reader
accidental first date fluff one shot
word count: 4.6k
A/N: I haven't written fiction in such a long time, so bare with me.
potential content warning: make-out session depicted, joking/talking about the implication of s3x (s3x NOT depicted)
Just like after every SwordAF recording session, you're still so amped up from the game, you insist the group goes out to your favorite restaurant for dinner. A small authentic Italian pizza joint, Ardovino's. And just like every time, your exhausted friends decline.
Well, everyone except Spencer.
"C'mon guys..." Your whine draws on as you pout with your whole body, like a disappointed child. "It'll be fun I promise. And the food is to die for."
Your friends' rejection wasn't new, far from it. It had actually begun to become a running joke. You always get the post-performance adrenaline rush after SwordAF. While the rest of the crew would rather wind down, you insist on a big group dinner.
"Y/N." Chanse spoke. "Leave It." The group, including you, chuckled. "The very last shoot of one of our busiest shoot weeks isn't the time for a pizza party."
"He's right, babe." Amanda chimed in. "It's time to sleep."
You throw your arms down to your sides in defeat and give Shayne a pleading look.
"Sorry." Shayne shrugs. "Me and Court are bathing the cats tonight."
"You guys are lame!" You exclaim. "You have your whole lives to sleep and bathe cats! You have only one night to rally at Ardovino's!"
"Ardovino's isn't going anywhere." Shayne retorts. "Look, we all promise, we'll do it another time."
"But I'm not gonna be here for the next week and a half!" You playfully whine. "It could go bankrupt and shut down by then!"
Spencer closely watches you from behind the cameras with a subtle smirk. The scene of you insisting they all go out never gets old to him. You get so passionate. Your eyes grow wider than they already are. You pitch dinner like it's life or death. A trait of yours Spencer has always adored.
Spencer makes his way over from behind the cameras to start putting up the mic equipment. "Y/N," He shakes his head and chuckles to himself as he wraps up various cords. "I don't think that place is in danger of shutting down as long as your around."
You scoff. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I don't think there's been a single week that's gone by since I've known you, that you haven't eaten from there." Spencer says, eyebrows raised. And a smile he couldn't get rid of, even if he tried.
"What else am I supposed to do? I make up like half their business." You joked. "Since none of my 'so called friends' have ever even set foot in the joint."
Shayne, Chanse, and Amanda are all getting up from the table, getting ready to go home for the weekend. While you keep sitting there, looking up at Spencer, with that smile he thinks about when he's all alone.
Spencer had eyes for you since you first met. Something only a close observer, and of course, Kiana, would know. You weren't just obviously and immediately stunning- you were the funniest person Spencer has ever met. And in his eyes, that was the most attractive quality a person could have. You were also incredibly caring and warm, of course. You gave steadfast support and generosity to the people in your life. The things that came out of your mouth consistently took him by surprise- whether it was your unwavering wit, completely unique observations about the world, or the most thoughtfully crafted and kindest compliments. Spencer knows you as one of the strangest and greatest people in his life.
The one thing Spencer didn't notice about you- was your clear feelings for him.
It took you guys a while to become good friends. His crush on you made him shy. But you eventually wiggled your way into his shell. And he was more than happy to accommodate you. It had almost been a year since you really formed a genuine and intimate friendship with him outside of work. Playful teasing. Inside jokes. Carpooling. Cat sitting. Late night phone calls. Stories you've never told anyone else. Testing games for the channel at Spencer's place. Ordering in. Falling asleep together on his couch.
All while you adored everything about him. His laugh. His unfiltered jokes. His attentiveness. His green eyes. His tattoos. His arms.
The same arm he was currently nudging you on the shoulder with. "Okay, fine." He groaned. "You win. Let's go to Ardovino's."
Amanda and Chanse stop in their tracks and give each other a knowing look of excitement. They, of course, being the only ones to know about your feelings for Spencer.
"Really?!" You swelled. "Wait, are you being serious?!"
Spencer laughed.
"Wait, Spencer, really?! No way! Really?!"
His eyes could fall out of his head with the way he's looking at you.
"Spencer!" You tugged on his hand and started shaking it. "Are we really gonna go to Ardovino's?!? Finally?!?"
Spencer stays quiet as he grins and basks in your excitement. That smile. Those eyes. Your excited shrill. Your hands touching his.
"Spencer!!" You give him another shake.
It pulls him out of your eyes and back into the moment. "Yes, yes. Just let me get some actual clothes on. I'll pick you up at eight o'clock."
"Oh wait," With raised eyebrows, your tone and posture softens. "Now I feel bad. I don't want you to have to change."
"Well it's a nice place, right?" He shrugs. "Can't go in like this." He motions to his old champion hoodie.
"Wait, no, nevermind." You say. "It's okay, Spence. I don't wanna put you out like that. I know you're tired."
"Yeah, y/n, you're really putting me out." He mocks. "Going to dinner with a beautiful thing like you. How burdensome."
Beautiful?
You give him a quizzical look, but can't help the huge smile creeping on your face and the color rushing to your cheeks. Your suddenly extremely aware of your grip on his hand. It starts to feel very hot, almost burning.
"Relax." Spencer says, very softly, almost a whisper. "I wanna go with you. I'll be at your place at eight, okay?"
As he looks down at you with a smirk, there's something in his eyes that excites you. But also starts making the eye contact between the two of you intense.
You can barely utter out "Okay."
"Okay." He says with a smile, again in that soft tone. He gives your hand a squeeze before turning to leave.
Your eyes linger on the door as he exits the game stage. He left you with a smile you can't seem to shake.
Amanda and Chanse are gripping each others shoulders with their jaws on the floor as you slowly turn your body to face them.
Shayne is oblivious.
---
"Okay." You let out a breath as you give your outfit a onceover in the mirror.
"Now that's a first date fit." Chanse says eating popcorn from your couch.
"Chanse. I don't know how many times I have to say this- but this isn't a date. I basically begged him to take me to dinner."
"That's not what I saw. He couldn't wait to pick you up at eight." Chanse mimics Spencer in a provocative tone.
"Well it's just dinner, Chanse. Me and Spencer eat together all the time."
"Yeah, at the office or your guys' apartments. Not at a fancy, romantic pizzeria."
"It's not fancy or romantic."
"He called you beautiful."
You scoff. "I call you beautiful all the time. What? Is this a date? Are we dating now?"
"Yeah but he obviously likes you."
"You know you keep saying that, and then nothing happens. He's never made a move- or done literally anything to indicate he's into me."
"What are you talking about?! It's happened like a million times! You always just brush it off!"
"I don't brush him off!"
"Yes you do. You brush him off because you're too scared of rejection."
You roll your eyes. "Well, Chanse, normal people are plenty scared of rejection."
Chanse puts his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "Oh am I not normal?"
"No." You emphasize. "You're some superhuman freak. You can just walk up to anybody and start flirting."
"And you wanna know what the worst thing that happened was?"
You tilt your head at him and put your hands on your hips.
"They didn't reciprocate. And I just keep on living."
"Yeah, but if Spencer rejects me..." You trail off defeatedly. You search for the words, and suddenly the weight of all that you'd feel if Spencer were to reject you comes crashing down. "I couldn't just brush that off, Chanse. I like him. So much. It'd crush me."
"Well, I think living in this limbo of unknown feelings and 'what ifs?' for the rest of your life- would crush you even more."
Your phone buzzes with a text from Spencer.
On my way :)
"Shit, that's him." Your heart sinks. Suddenly this all becomes very real and the fact that you and Spencer are going to be having a candlelight dinner sends nerves throughout your entire body.
"You need to get out of here before he comes." You pull Chanse off the couch and take away the bowl of popcorn.
As you push him towards the door Chanse laughs. "If it's not a date, why can't I stay?"
You stop and he turns to face you.
"I mean it's just two friends getting together, right? Why don't I just tag along, too?" Chanse smirks.
You're ready to call his bluff.
"The more the merrier." You smile.
"Great."
Silence surrounds the staring contest between the two of you.
"It's not a date, Chanse."
"Then why'd you choose that underwear?"
You roll your eyes and start pushing him out the door again. "Goodbye."
Chanse manages a very rushed "Use protection!" before you slam the door on him.
---
In the car, on the way to your apartment, Spencer gets a call. It's Kiana.
He answers the phone from the bluetooth system on the steering wheel. "Hello?"
"Why did I just get a text from Chanse that you and y/n are going on a date?" Kiana questions.
"Date? I mean, we're going to dinner?"
"And you didn't tell me?! This is your chance Spence!"
Spencer rolls his eyes. Then an idea strikes him. "Wait, date? Is that the word Chanse used?"
"Well, no. He said you two are going to Ardovino's right now. Alone."
"Well yeah, Kiana, that's not a date."
"You can make it one."
Spencer furrows his eyebrows. "What does that even mean?"
"I mean, you want it to be a date, right? And I can bet you, she wants it to be a date, too."
"I don't think so."
"Spencer, y/n obviously likes you."
"Then why haven't they told me?"
"Why haven't you told them?!"
"You know why, Kiana. I can't risk that. If I put everything out there, and they don't feel the same way..." Spencer follows the trail of thought where he confesses his feelings. You rejecting him. You distancing yourself from him. No longer being friends. No longer being able to make you laugh. No more late night phone calls. No more you. You weren't something he was willing to lose. "It'd ruin everything."
"But if you go on like this, you'll lose y/n either way. They'll eventually meet someone who'll actually make a move."
For a while, there's a silence where only the cars on the road can be heard.
"There's always gonna be that what if in your head if you don't just go for it. And it'll be too late." Kiana says. "A nice dinner is the perfect place to tell her how you feel."
---
As Spencer shuffles up the steps to your apartment, Kiana's words couldn't get out of his head. What if you did meet someone else? The thought of anyone else being with you- hugging you, kissing you, making you laugh- stung.
He knocks on your door.
What if you did want this to be a date? What if this was his chance? What if he told you his feelings and you told him yours back? What if he kissed you and you kissed him back? What if-
All at once, Spencer's thoughts go quiet and his breath hitches. You open the door. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His eyes are more than happy to take you all in. He's too preoccupied staring at you to even greet you.
"Hi." You sheepishly say after a few seconds of silence.
Spencer looked so handsome. And the smell of his cologne was intoxicating.
"H- hey." He let out with a lot of air and a huge smile. You can see him looking over all of you. "You look..." He meets your eyes. "You're gorgeous."
You smile and feel the warmth rush to your cheeks, as well as to the pit of your stomach. "Thanks, Spence." You step closer to him and playfully tug on the collar of his white polo shirt. "You look very handsome." You giggle.
A playful moment, quickly turns into tension you could cut with a knife. Your faces now, just inches apart. Your hand still on his collar. Eye contact unbroken.
You look down at his lips for a split second when you suddenly hear a car horn down the street. It makes you guys jump back and laugh.
"Well..." You break the silence. "I thought we could walk there. It's only like ten minutes down the street. If that was okay with you?"
"Sounds perfect." Spencer smiles. He offers out his arm, doing his gentleman voice. "M'lady?"
You laugh. "M'lord." You link arms with his.
The walk there is filled with a very comfortable silence. It's not lost on you how nice being this close to him feels. You have a tight grip on his bicep.
Spencer is more than happy. Such a beautiful person like you, wrapped around his arm. He keeps almost running into things with how many times he's looking at you.
As you walk in to the restaurant, the older southern hostess, Lynn, you've seen many, many times greets you by name. "Hey, y/n! Welcome!"
Spencer laughs. "Come here that often, huh?"
You smile and roll your eyes at him.
"So who's the handsome fella?" Asks Lynn.
"Oh, this is Spencer." You say, gesturing your hand toward him.
"Well, Spencer, it's nice to meet you." Lynn smiles. "I hope you know you are one lucky man to be out on a date with this one!"
As you open your mouth to correct her, Spencer agrees. "Well, more like the luckiest man alive."
Lynn laughs. "Aw, well, ain't that cute? Right this way you two."
You give Spencer a bewildered look. But, of course, a huge smile on your face. Was Chanse actually right? Was this a date?
He doesn't look back at you. Instead he links your arm with his and leads you as he's walking.
His heart beating out of his chest. His nerves feel like fire. He was so nervous, but also, relishing this moment.
Lynn lets you know your waitress is on the way and walks away. Spencer pulls out your chair and helps you in. He sits down and starts looking at the menu.
You see a cool, calm, collected, nonchalant Spencer turning through the pages. Yet, what you don't know is, he's too scared to make eye contact with you.
You pick up your menu trying to follow his lead. But can't think straight. You haven't stopped smiling. A few moments go by and you keep putting down your menu to say something, but then go back to reading it.
Finally, with a huge smile, and raised eyebrows you say, "A date?"
Spencer freezes and looks up at you. "Hmm?"
"You're the luckiest man alive to be on a date with me?"
"Uh.." Spencer shifts in his seat. "You know.. uh- well... yeah."
Your heart flips.
"I mean, look at you." He gestures at you like it's obvious. "If this was a date, I'd be the luckiest man alive."
If?
Before you can say anything the waitress comes.
---
Dinner was great. It was just like any other time between the two of you. Great conversation. Lots of laughter. Untold stories. Except you were admiring his lips throughout your meal. And when you'd look away, so was he.
After an awkward fight for the bill, he wins.
He opens the door for you on the way out. You guys stand outside and just look at each other. No words are spoken, but you can feel a tension. Then you both instinctively laugh at the same time.
"Well..."
"Well.."
You didn't want this night to end. You look at the place across the street you go to often, and an idea strikes.
"Up for dessert?" You ask. "That place has the best churros in LA."
"Hell yeah." He extends his arm out to you again, and you take it. You guys find a break in between cars to jog across the street.
"¡Hola, hermosa!" Rita, the woman who owns the small churro stand, and at this point, a close personal friend, greets you. "Nice to see you!"
"Hi, Rita." You smile.
"Been here a lot, too, huh?" Spencer laughs.
"Shut up."
"This you boyfriend?" Rita asks.
You and Spencer both look at each other. Both of you secretly wishing you could answer 'yes' to that question.
"That's what everyone seems to think." You chuckle.
"Let me get a picture!" She says motioning to the cork board full of polaroids of couple who have eaten here.
"Oh, Rita, it's okay. We're ju-" Before you can finish your sentence she is out there with her camera.
"Okay, c'mon, c'mon, get close." She motion at the two of you.
You look at Spencer. "I'm so sorry, is this okay?"
"It's totally fine." He laughs.
He put his arm around your waist.
A chill rushes through you.
"One. Two. Three."
The camera clicks.
"Okay now kiss!"
You laugh awkwardly. "Oh, it's okay-"
"C'mon! Kiss!" Rita insists. "C'mon, such a good photo!"
Spencer and you look at each other with awkward smiles, not knowing what to do. You did want to kiss him, of course, but not like this. Not for the first time.
"I'll give you a peck on the cheek." Spencer whispers. "If that's okay with you."
You look up at him, flustered. "Oh, yeah, yeah. That's good."
He plants a kiss on your cheek. A sweet and intimate moment that makes both of your stomachs flutter. Rita snaps the photo.
"Beautiful!" Rita exclaims. "I'll bring out your usual now, okay?"
You and Spencer sit and wait on the curb in front of the stand. Rita brings one large churro and a huge cup of horchata to you guys and hands it to Spencer.
As you go through your stuff to pull out your cash, Spencer moves for his wallet. "Oh no, I got it, y/n."
"No, no, no!" Rita smiles. "On the house for the happy couple." She points at Spencer. "Just treat y/n right."
"Yes ma'am." Spencer chuckles.
"Oh! And here you go. One for you." Rita hands you the polaroid of Spencer kissing you on the cheek. "See? Such a good photo."
Rita walks away, and you and Spencer sit in a moment of silence looking at the picture.
"Wow." He breaks it. "You usually eat all this by yourself?" He laughs.
You hit his arm and giggle. "No! I come here with Chance... sometimes."
Spencer lets air escape his nose. He looks over to you with an endearing smile. Something in his tone shifted "And she never thinks Chanse is your boyfriend?"
"Well..." You blush and bring the photo closer to show him. "I guess you and I just have that undeniable chemistry." You joke.
"Yeah I mean, I get it." He says, placing the food down at his side, and grabbing the photo from you. "That's one handsome couple."
You both chuckle. As the sound fades and it's just the two of you in silence, you stare deep into each others eyes. Spencer notices a spark in yours that seems to be new.
It seems like every sign was telling you this was a date. Other people were literally telling you this was a date. Looking into his eyes, your heart swelled up to your throat. You cleared it, breaking the silence.
You leaned your body against Spencer to reach across him to get the churro that was on his other side. "Well..." You gesture for him to take a bite as you hold it. "Tell me what you think."
---
You threw your trash away and said bye to Rita.
"Onward?" Spencer, once again, offers his arm.
"Onward." You smile taking it.
Now, on the opposite side of the street, you pass your favorite café. It's pretty empty and there is a small jazz band out front you've seen play there plenty of times.
"Hey!" Mr. Reeves, the old pianist, stops playing when he sees you. The band follows with greetings as well.
"Hello, Mr. Reeves. Hello, everyone. How are you?"
"Well, I'm much better now after seeing you!" Mr. Reeves offers a friendly smile.
"Jesus, you really get out a lot, huh?" Spencer whispers in your ear and nudges your side. You look up at him and roll your eyes.
"Does your boyfriend here wanna dance?" Mr. Reeves asks.
"Jesus, you really get mistaken for my boyfriend a lot, huh?" You both laugh.
"Well, son? Are you gonna ask this pretty young thing to dance or not?" Mr. Reeves asks. The rest of the band joins in, egging Spencer on.
After a moment, of looking at each other. Spencer gives you a playful shrug. "Why not?" Spencer unlinks his arm from yours and offers his hand. "Will you do me the honors?"
You look at him in amazement. Your heart beating out of your chest. This was really happening. With a smile so wide, you take his hand.
The band starts playing your favorite old-timey love song you've told them so much about.
Spencer has a hand around each side of your waist, with a firm grasp. You have your hand wrapped around the back of his neck. You hadn't been this close to him for this long, ever. Without saying anything and only the occasional break in eye contact, you sway side to side on the pavement.
Once you both were able to push past the nerves, it was pure bliss. Spencer had the person of his dreams in his hands. He still hadn't gotten over how beautiful you looked tonight- tripping over his words during conversations you had throughout the night. He knew he couldn't push down his feelings any longer. Everyone thinking you were a couple, kissing you on the cheek, dancing with you- if all of this was a possibility for the two of you going forward, it was worth the risk of anything. He had to let you know how he felt. He was in love.
And you knew in that moment, you felt the same way.
As the song ended, the band started clapping for you both.
"Thanks for that." Spencer places some cash in a hat the band had in front of them. "Seriously thank you." He whispers to Mr. Reeves. Spencer would put his entire bank account in that hat to thank them for giving him that moment with you.
"So..." You giggle.
"So." Spencer repeats with a warm smile. This time, he offers his hand for you to hold. You happily take it. "Just no more detours, okay?" You both laugh.
As he guides you up the steps to your front porch you don't let go of his hand. And he doesn't let go of yours. You lean your back against the door, and give him a big smile.
You can't keep it in anymore.
"Well, Spencer. I think you just might be the luckiest man alive."
"Oh really? Why's that?" He grabs your other hand now too.
"Dinner, dancing, kissing... I think that was a date."
"Well, since that was a date..." A smile grew on his face. "That was the best date I've ever been on."
Your heart is pounding out of your chest. His too.
"Me too." You whisper.
You stare into each others eyes. And a brand new kind of silence embraces you both. You let go of his hand and pull on his collar again, bringing him a few inches from your lips. His hands go to your waist.
You stare at each other again. This time, obvious glances to each others lips. Your faces slowly gravitate towards each other.
Your foreheads touch.
Then your noses.
Then your lips.
A peck at first, but then quickly becoming deeper. Your hands are tightly tugging his collar to pull him even closer into you. His hands are even tighter around your waist to pull you closer to him.
You pull away with your eyes closed and with a big smile. You take in some fresh air and open your eyes. Your heart stops when you open them, and he's already looking at you, like he's hungry. He places his forehead on yours again.
"Holy shit, I can't believe this is happening." You giggle. He does too.
"Me neither." You both close your eyes again. "I've wanted to do that for such a long time."
"Me too." You whisper.
"Can I kiss you again?" He asks.
You answer by kissing him. Deeper and harder than before. Nothing but smiles each time his and your lips part. His hand travels up your body, to the side of your chin and neck. With the other still firmly against your waist. Both you and Spencer's breathing gets heavier. A mmm escapes your lips. Which sends an excited chill through Spencer's body.
You both pull away not being able to say anything for a bit. Your chests rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breathes.
"Spencer." You say between breaths.
"Y/n."
"I'm gonna ask you something, okay? But just let me finish before you answer. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm gonna ask if you want to come inside." You say with a shaky voice. "But... I think I should tell you... I have feelings for you. I have... deep, strong, feelings." Spencer doesn't break the intense stare he is giving you. You ramble on. "And if something were to happen in there, it would mean a lot more to me than just one night. I'd want something more than just that. I'd want you. Like, in a relationship, or whatever." You swallow the lump in your throat. Your pace quickens. "And if you don't feel the same way, that's totally okay. I'll be happy looking back on this night as a fun, spontaneous thing, you know? I'll be okay. And I'd wanna still be friends." Tears start to build in your eyes and you can feel your throat get heavier. "But I can't go any further if you don't feel the same way. Because if that happens... It's more than just a fun, spontaneous thing for me. It's... everything. So when I ask you to come inside, you can only say yes if you feel the same. Okay?"
You let out a big sigh. "Do you wanna come in?"
"Y/n, I...." Spencer closely studies your face. He gently wipes a tear that had fallen down your cheek. He takes your hand and places it over his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly.
"I love you." He says. "I wanna be with you... even if nothing else happens. I just want you. I always have. There's nothing I want more than just you. I love you."
"I love you too."
You smile and let out a breath of relief. Your lips and bodies embrace each other once again. You open the door, and he follows you inside.
#smoshblr#spencer agnew x reader#spencer agnew fanfiction#spencer agnew fanfic#spencer agnew imagine#smosh rpf#smosh fanfiction
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh new episode new teasing from smg4 team
And so, while watching the new video, I was able to collect something and write down here my thoughts about what I think.
Smg4 care actually about what smg3 says
That shows 2 times and we see how even if he "hate" smg3, he listen to him.
Negative points?
But aren't smg3 is glowing like a rare item or something "special"?
I don’t think that’s how “negative” things should work smg4
Or..
Hm
Hey, actually, some people say in this scene, number 34 is gone from counting
So
I have a guess that smg4 actually trying to avoid a relationship with smg3?
Perhaps after the episode about his browser history and some of their conflicts and so on, smg4 simply denies his feelings or smg3’s feelings for him
"That what we do to each other, right?"
This guy seems incapable of actually seeing smg3 as his friend or anything else, he still wants to remain rivals with him.
Even after all
He still gonna see smg3 like his enemy
Perhaps a friendly enemy? Because we don’t understand how smg4’s feelings work, but we only know that it was he who first started their rival relationship with smg3 (according to canon?)
So I can assume that smg4 hates smg3 but at the same time is his friend? best friend?
Idk
Or hate-love thing that maybe but uhh not shure?
Well, or this idiot is just the same as smg3 and hides his feelings, because I don’t understand why smg4 keeps a smg3 toy in his inventory
105 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiiii, love ur writing!!! May I request a story about the strong and undefeatable villain getting some head injury (maybe concussion) during the battle with some third party, and after that peacefully resting on a bench in alley, but then hero finds him and decides to help, even though these two don't like each other. Pretty please 🐹☘️💗
your please was so pretty i couldnt not write this! i really enjoyed this one, i hope you do too :D
Part of the hero’s job is helping those in need. Stopping when they cross someone lying on a park bench, in the dingiest, darkest part of the park, just feels normal to them in the moment.
That is until they notice who it is.
“[Villain]?” The hero can’t think of anything else to say. Their hands are already halfway to the cuffs in their pocket. “What’re you doing out here?”
This is the part where the villain leaps up with a laugh about how the hero’s fallen into a trap, leaping into a monologue before the inevitable battle.
But instead the villain opens his eyes to glance at them, his gaze not fully focusing on them, and simply says “‘m tired.”
The hero crouches down to his level. It’s clear he has no intention of getting up. They open their mouth to say something curt, distrusting, but they stop themself short.
They’ve noticed the blood painting the other side of the villain's face, dried into his hair and on his skin. Panic flutters in the hero’s gut. How bad is it? What happened? Their training only covered the basics of first aid. This wasn’t part of it.
He looks so small like this. The hero had always thought of the villain as indestructible, perfect in every evil way. But this—he’s defeatable, he’s normal, he’s human. Just like the rest of them.
They carefully push the villain over, earning a disgruntled “eugh” that they ignore to brush his hair away and take in the damage.
“Are yo’ shoes clean?” he says shortly as the hero grapples with a tissue from their pocket. “I think… I’m gonna throw up.”
“Please don’t.” They carefully take their tissue to the villain’s head, which he tries to cringe away from. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Wha’?”
“What happened to you, [Villain]?”
The villain’s eyes train on the hero's idly, unseeingly. “There’s stars on your face.”
“Okay. Okay.” Blood has turned the tissue into a crime scene, but it’s making little difference to the state of the villain. “We need to get you some help.”
It barely even occurs to the hero to do otherwise. A hero isn’t a hero without the soul to do the hardest parts of kindness, they know. To show mercy to those who might not deserve it. To help those who likely don’t want it. To show the villain compassion they know they’ll never get back.
The hero pulls the villain upright, with absolutely no help from the villain. They get him sitting up and he almost keels straight back over the moment they let go.
They settle on the bench next to him, careful to hold him up. “How’re you feeling, [Villain]?”
“I hav’ the… worst headache.” It comes out disjointed, like he’s piecing the sentence together as he says it. The hero pulls his arm over their shoulder. “Wha’s going on?”
“We’re going to the hospital.” The villain barely reacts to this, when before the hero probably would’ve had to drag him there kicking and screaming before. “We’re going to stand up, okay?”
“‘Kay.”
The villain sways on his feet as the hero pulls him up, a slight stagger almost taking them both down. “Oup,” he says with a short breath of a laugh.
“Okay,” the hero says again, more to themself than to the villain. “Let’s get you fixed.”
The hero walks the villain all the way to the hospital, the journey slow and full of close encounters with the pavement, and makes themself at home in his hospital room.
The villain would never do the same for the hero. They’re a villain. Obviously. That’s why the hero is the good guy. They'd expect nothing less.
But when the villain wakes up properly, coherent and all-there, the first thing out of their mouth is an absolutely seething, entirely genuine “thank you.”
#creative writing#writblr#writers on tumblr#writing#writing community#heroes and villains#hero x villain#LAST DAY AT WORK TOMORROW BITCHESSSSS#i am So Excited to leave it has been a tar pit ever since i handed my notice in#fukn BYE
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
Doughnuts ?
A/N: I hope you all love this as much as I love Colt ! P.S. don't ask me how many times i watched this movie its distrubing
Colt Seavers X Reader
Working on a movie set had a been dream of yours for as long as you can remeber. The magic of seeing the big lights and the movie stars.
You always loved working on projects from the time you can remember.
Writting and directing and seeing your own magic come to life was always a dream come true.
Most people told you to dream releastic and stick something that would be more achievable.
But you didn't listen sitting at home doing a boring 9-5 was the not the life you wanted for yourself.
You went to film school out in LA and it was the most you ever felt alive. You finally felt like you belonged here.
When you graduated you thought you were going to immediately jump into work. I mean you were the next big thing right? Well that dream came crashing down. Reality set in and bills needed to be paid.
So when the oppurtinity came up for you to work as a camera operator for a movie you took it right away
. I mean you were going to be still working on the magic right ?
A couple of months in and you were finding your groove everyone on set was incredibly kind and welcoming.
There was one particular guy who was nice to you.
Colt Seavers was a incredible stunt man. Can we just also say for the love of god how incredibly hot he was.
I mean how was he not a movie star himself.
God took a little extra time with him. But the nice thing about him though was he didn't have a ego to match. To your surprise was he kind and nice and funny.
One day you were sitting eating lunch alone and he came and sat down next to you.
"Someone as beautiful as you shouldn't be eating alone" Colt said as he thew about 3 plates of food down.
"You really gonna eat all that" You said laughing
"Hey your brain needs carbs to live how else can i be set on fire without nothing on my stomach" Colt said laughing
Like what ever he said made sense. The two of you just sat and talked in for a while and he made you feel like you knew him forever.
He was funny like he was honesly geniunely hilarious.
The two of you talked about dream vacations and how being set on fire was nothing compared to when they stopped making his favoriate brand of coffee beans.
When lunch was over he asked for your number. He said he wanted to be a gentleman and drive you home because it was dangerous out there.
The work day seemed like it was never ending after that. The annoying ass director just wanted another take after another one.
You were about to just sit the camera down in protest and leave but thank god this was the last scene.
You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to anyone. You just put your stuff away and grabbed your things.
You were sitting in the parking lot next to your car.
A few minutes had passed and you were worried you got stood up. You were about to get back into your car so you didn't look like an idiot.
Just as you were pulling out your keys. A huge truck blaring Taylor Swift pulled up next to you.
"You didn't think I forgot did you" Colt said smiling.
You smiled back and hoped into the truck
"A man with taste" You said
He pulled away and the windows were down and the music was blaring. He drove to an empty parking lot down the street and you gave him a confused look.
"Doughnuts" He asked
"I love Jelly" You said making him laugh loud
"A breakfast date when were done I love it" Colt said
"I know a good spot" You said.
Colt postioned the car and then looked over at you with a smirk and then took off fast.
It caught your breath fast and you felt your heart dropping into its stomach. Colt stretched out his arm and nodged you over closer to him.
It really did make you forget about your troubles. Like everything else didn't matter in this moment. You felt like when you were on a rollcoaster and you reached the top.
then when you shot done that rush of adrenline was amazing.
You could do this all night with him.
"Same time again tomorrow" Colt said
"It's a date after real doughnuts" You said
"Carbs make everything better" Colt said
You leaned in and laid your head on his shoulder and he smiled down at you. The real magic wasn't on the movie set it was right here with the two of you
#colt seavers#colt seavers x reader#colt readers x you#ryan gosling#the fall guy#colt seavers one shot
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you have any tips for writing? Or you just go with the flow and hope for the best
I do have tips yeah, but keep in mind this is just how it works for me, there are probably lots of different approaches that are equally good.
My writing is pretty character driven so that drives a lot of my process.
When I'm writing I want to have a sense of how a character experiences the world, so I ask myself questions like this:
-Are they more cerebral, in their head? Or are they more sensory
-How much tolerance do they have for bad things and feelings?
-How do they react when something good happens?
-Do they celebrate their wins or react with anxiety because winning adds pressure?
-Are they embarrassed by compliments or do they take them well? If they're embarrassed do they get flustered or gruff?
-Do their outward reactions match the way they feel inside?
-Do they lie well? If they do is there anything they can't lie about?
-What do they need to feel secure?
-What calms them down?
-What are their coping mechanisms? Make sure there are some bad ones (I mean that, imo a good character needs real flaws)
-Do they speak directly about their feelings or do they talk around things
There's a lot more questions like that that you can ask yourself, and know the answers to those things makes it a lot easier to figure out how they would react to whatever you want to throw at them in the plot. Sometimes a character is going to be resistant to something you want to do and it's worth it to take the time (both IRL and in the plot) to figure out what that character needs to get them to a place where they're ready to react the way you need for the plot point.
Dialogue and Language
Another big thing for me is dialogue, as well as the language you use in general for describing things from a character's perspective. I'm not exactly sure out to describe this exactly, but I'll give an example. Stu uses a lot more casual and shortened language than Billy ('cause, gonna, sayin', ect.), and he's a lot more willing to use goofy slang than Billy is (dope, rad, the bomb).
Both of them use some movie language but Billy uses more- referring to his life plans and experiences as "the plot", referring to his field of view as "the shot", stuff like that.
Billy on the other hand uses slightly more formal, occasionally more dramatic language. He's less likely to use shortened words if he's not actively having sex, and when he swears he's more likely to say fuck than shit. He also refers to a lot more using critical language. Things are stupid, dumb, asinine, ect.
for both of them though I generally try to stick to more common language. Theres lots of fun words in the thesaurus, but if they don't sound like something a 19/20 year old dude would say I'm not going to try to find something else.
Plot
There are different kind of arcs to consider when you're figuring out pacing. For me I try to make sure chapters have an arc- I try to introduce an issue in the start, the characters navigate that through the chapter, and the tension rises toward the end until it comes to a head somehow. In my writing thats often a sex scene or a fight (or both).
I also try to consider the overarching plot. where do I want my characters to end up by the end of the story and what needs to happen to get them there? I don't like introducing plot elements out of nowhere, so I often try to mention things at least in an offhand way before they become important to the plot.
Practically the way I approach this is to figure out plot milestones. as an example for Debaser we start with a choking encounter that results in both of them having a sexual experience. That leads to an exploration of more power/painplay under the guise that it's not sexual, until they get to the point of having to admit that it sexual.
At that point its a slippery slope, especially after Maureens murder, which is a bonding experience. It sort of continues on that way, but they're all steps that move Billy into a place where he's more willing to let himself do what he actually wants.
I'm sure there's more I could say but this is the most useful advice I can think of right now. Basically know your characters! Know more about them than you think you'll need to to write the story, because you'll be shocked how much of it you can use to fill in blanks in a way that feels genuine.
I hope that helps!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fandom: Steven Universe
Rating: Teen Audiences (CW: Description of attempted suicide)
Words: 5.4K~
Summary: There’s more to this story, Lars can feel it brimming in his very bones. He can feel it squirming around in the tangled coils of his guts, a primal, virulent rot that threatens to consume him from the inside out. Something is off with Steven, something is distinctly wrong.
And oh, does he hate being right.
-
When an unexpected visitor tumbles through the magic portal in his hair long after hours, breathless and bright pink, Lars must amass the courage to weather one of the most difficult conversations of his life.
Hey folks- this is a really heavy one, but it's a story I've been sitting on in my WIPs for a good four years and am very happy to finally set loose. A lot of personal experience has been poured into this particular fic, and I hope you enjoy.
Please take care and mind the content warning given above. If you're curious on what else this story entails, you can click through to see the AO3 tags as well. Love y'all!
__
Advocate
The Sun Incinerator’s bridge is unusually quiet tonight, with almost everyone spending the evening in their quarters. As such, the only sounds greeting Lars’ ears right now are the dull buzz of their FTL-drive and the gentle chimes of one of the ship’s secondary consoles in the back. (Padparadscha’s making some adjustments to the mainframe parameters, hoping to secure them more malleable control over each system’s energy output.) It makes for a rather meditative scene… focusing on these lulling, almost formulaic bits of white noise as he peers through the glass and watches entire stars and solar systems zip by as nothing but razor thin tendrils of light, the very fabric of space warping and folding around their ship in a myriad of hypnotizing colors. Content to simply be in this peaceful silence, he stretches back in his captain’s chair, allowing a wide smile to rejuvenate his countenance. There’s genuinely nothing more relaxing in all the universe than this.
Though, as he begins to muse upon today’s chaotic ventures of choice, it occurs to him that he hasn’t logged anything down for a good few cycles. And that really, really needs to change, he thinks. Keeping thorough audio records of their whereabouts and activities could prove useful if they get into any more legal scrapes with disgruntled Gems. Plus, it’s great for personal posterity— for when he and the fam want to kick back with some mixers and reminisce about old times.
He activates the mic embedded in the armrest of his seat with a single tap, and clears his throat.
“Logging… stardate one-three zero-five twenty eighteen,“ he begins, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the cool metal. “Or, uh… however that’s supposed to work,” he tags on with a bemused mumble, his nose wrinkling in personal annoyance as he realizes he might have completely jumbled the date format again. At this point, half of his logs are month first, then date, and the other half are date then month. Ugh, what a mess. Perhaps one day he’ll standardize the captain’s logging procedure, but that future is definitely not now.
And knowing him, it’s probably not gonna be tomorrow, either.
He’s unable to help his exhausted yawn as he kicks back and unwinds, throwing his legs over the side of the armrest as he pushes ahead with his recounting of the last few hours.
“Today’s travels once again had us come face-to-face with our favorite frenemy Emerald, who claimed that her latest star cruiser had the booster technology to easily outperform all other Era 3 ships and challenged us to a race across the Stellaris Astroid Field in sector 9. We won, of course,” he says with a smug lilt to his voice. “The Rutiles’ savvy piloting saw to that, as well as Fluorite’s last-minute engine modifications. I think we hit like… a record cruising speed?” He presses his lips into a thin line and turns his head towards his friend working at the rear of the main deck. “Hey Pady? D’ya happen to remember what our top velocity came to during the final stretch of that race?”
She pauses in her self-appointed duty and hums in careful thought, sorting back through her eidetic knowledge of the recent past like it’s nothing but child’s play. “I believe… 181 klicks per second, nearing the speed of light.”
“And that was like… a record, yeah?” he asks, a sudden hair-raising twinge of… well, something settling deep at the pit of his chest. He ignores it for now. Such phantom pangs aren’t uncommon these days. He’s not exactly sure what causes it yet, and chalks it up to more ‘pink zombie’ weirdness.
“For our craft, yes,” she nods. “For all Gemkind, no. I was curious, as well. As far as I’ve read from Homeworld’s databases, the current non-FTL cruising record is 186.1 klicks per second.”
Lars can’t help the scoffing chuckle that bubbles within his throat. “Ugh. Good grief, that’s basically light speed as it is. Like, leave some room for competition for the rest of us, yeah?”
Padparadscha gives a faint snicker of agreement as she turns her focus back to the ship’s mainframe interface. Right, right… she’s got work to get done. Which really reminds him, he needs to get back to his point too, or else this log’s gonna be stuffed with nothing but meaningless chit-chatter and asides. He sighs, leaning his cheek against the seat’s edge again.
“But in any case,” he continues into the mic, “our latest victory over Emerald seems to ha—”
With zero warning whatsoever that hollow pang at his core intensifies, its thrall pulsing louder and louder until it’s a thunderous cascade of static rippling through his very veins. He hisses in alarm, jamming his hands over his ears out of pure bodily instinct. This doesn’t help, of course— as this cacophonous feeling (not a sound, not some external input he can mute or modulate, but a feeling—) seems to be emanating from within, from a place all but intangible to the physical realm, from—
He spies that oh-so-familiar glow emanating from the fringe of his hair just a split second before his surprise visitor tumbles through and throws off his center of balance, unceremoniously toppling both of them to the floor in a ridiculous tangle of limbs.
Lars’ exhales become laborious as he extracts himself from under the teen and clambers back up to his knees, heart pounding with more fervent intensity than it has since he up and died a few years back.
And right on cue, about fifteen seconds too late:
“Captain Lars, Steven is about to cross through the portal in your head!”
“Yeah, I noticed, thanks,” he snaps in the shock of it all, feeling guilty for this snide remark the second it passes through his lips. (Because Padparadscha can’t help her compulsive ‘predictions.’ He knows this. Everyone knows this. He’ll have to find time to pull her aside and apologize.)
But not now.
Not yet.
Because the alarm bells rung by Pady’s next comment are enough to slap him right out of his brooding contemplation and back to the troubling here-and-now.
“I also predict that Steven won’t be in a very sound state of mind when he arrives,” she says, a noticeable tension building in her tone.
His eyes blow wide as he shifts his full attention to his friend, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a thin sleep shirt.
Steven is… oh, geeze. It seems Steven can’t even manage coherent speech right now. His cheeks are blotchy and raw with recent tears. He’s doubled over on the floor with one hand clutching at his center as he heaves for breath, glowing bright ass pink and looking halfway to hyperventilating. One thing’s for sure: it’s really, really hard to watch. His own chest growing insufferably tight in sympathy, Lars leaps to action, unwilling to let the poor guy wallow in the thickets of whatever the hell this breakdown is about any longer than he has to.
“H-hey…” he begins, edging towards him with the same slow deliberateness he always has to use with the rescue dog his parents recently adopted. And like, yeah— a part of him feels really rude for comparing his own friend to a skittish, fretful animal— but it’s a comparison that seems all the more apt the longer he drinks in the realities of this situation.
Because just like ol’ Maru, Steven is jumpy, horrifically on-edge, and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
Lars frowns, considering what few options he has.
Realizing his friend’s not likely to calm down very well so out in the open like this, he turns towards his fellow Off-Color.
“Pady, I’m taking him to my quarters. Can you let the others know, and uh… tell them not to disturb us for a while?”
“Yes, right away,” she chimes, hopping off her seat.
“Thank you,” he breathes, expression softening. “I mean it. And sorry about— well, I’ll talk with you later, all right?”
Her mouth falling into a perfectly neutral line (even if she’s incapable of reading the future, he’s sure she’s intensely aware of what he wishes to speak to her about from mere context clues alone), the Gem serves him a solid nod of acceptance and spins on her heels, striding down the hall with a level of confidence he envies. The bridge’s door slides shut after her, leaving him and his glowing, pink hued guest entirely alone.
Alone, and incredibly, incredibly vulnerable, like a live wire flailing about atop a damaged Earth power line.
(The last thing anyone on this ship needs is him having one of his infamous explosive episodes here and compromising the bridge’s airlock system. Which is why his quarters— below deck and fully enclosed— is a far more ideal locale for them right now.)
“O-okay, Steven,” he says, holding out his arm in aid as the teen struggles to clamber back to his feet. “Let’s go somewhere private to cool down, yeah?”
~~
A few minutes later, Lars has Steven situated on the one plush sofa he keeps in his quarters. Since he no longer possess any biological need for sleep and thus doesn’t keep a bed, his room on the ship is pretty sparse— just a desk for journaling or gaming and some shelves with a number of sentimental knick-knacks he brought with him from Earth— but he did find it important to keep a couch. Even if he doesn’t need to sleep, curling up for a quick hour of shut-eye still feels quite rejuvenating sometimes. Plus, it’s handy to have whenever he hosts visitors. Like now.
Lars sits himself down right next to the distressed teen. He’s still flushed bright pink, but has regained a fair bit of emotional stability compared to how he was right after tumbling out of the magic space portal in his hair. It might take a while until the glow fades away entirely, but it’s progress, at least.
He sighs, rapping his fingertips against his jeans as he gives his friend some time in silence to cool down. The last thing the guy needs right now is for him to wave half a dozen questions in his face. He’ll talk when he’s ready. Or, hell, maybe not at all. That’s okay, too. Maybe he just wanted a place to have a quick little freak-out away from his family or girlfriend. Who’s he to judge? Sometimes a man’s just gotta be alone for a while.
Of course, he muses, if Steven really wanted to be alone, then he wouldn’t have crossed through Lion’s mane over to him, now would he? So this visit can’t only be due to a desire for solitude. Steven sought out him— specifically him— for a reason.
That churning, hollow pang at his core radiates even stronger, pulsing at the same interval as the dull tick of the clock he has hanging up on his wall, the one he keeps set to Earth EST as an everlasting reminder of his humble human roots and all the people who care about him back home.
Finally— some ten or so minutes later— the seventeen-year-old stops glowing, that unnatural, otherworldly pallor fading into obscurity. The kid (sorry, but Steven will always be a ‘kid’ to him at this point, don’t matter his age) deflates in exhaustion, cupping his face in his hands.
Now a little more confident that his expressions of concern won’t rile him up to destructive levels of stress, Lars makes a gentle inquiry as to what brought him here.
“‘Course, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he tacks on quickly when he sees Steven’s expression widen with an almost grief-stricken apprehension, “but since I’m here an’ all, I figured…”
His guest sucks in a deep, shaky bout of air.
“N-no, I wanna talk,” he says, voice painfully hoarse. “I came here to talk, but I— it’s just so, so much, I-I’m—”
Lars’ eyes soften. “Dude, it’s okay. Take your time.”
And take his time he does. Another minute or so passes whilst Steven continues to reel himself in on the emotional side of things, breathing slow and heavy as he levels a dead-eyed stare at the blank section of wall flanking the doorway and his desk.
“Connie and I had a fight,” he begins eventually, his tone streaked with embarrassment. “Over the phone.”
Lars’ brow shoots up. Huh. All right. This is absolutely not the opener he expected.
“Really? You two fight? About what?”
“It doesn’t even matter anymore. It was nothing,” Steven mutters, clenching and unclenching his fists against the soft fabric of his pajama pants in a markedly uneven rhythm. “Just me being an idiot, as per usual. I’m sure we’ll make up over it tomorrow. But the problem is that we hung up mad. And when I’m mad about something, it just… makes me mad at myself. A-and then it’s like—” anxious, clawing hands migrate to his head, gripping at his hair— “w-when I’m mad at myself I just spiral? And it’s so, so scary how fast that can happen.”
Ever so slight, his lip presses into a tense frown as he listens. He doesn’t interject, not yet. Steven’s not finished with his disclosure— there’s more to this story, he can feel it brimming in his very bones. He can feel it squirming around in the tangled coils of his guts, a primal, virulent rot that threatens to consume him from the inside out. Something is off with him, something is distinctly wrong.
And oh, does he hate being right.
“I just… couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Steven admits.
The aching hollowness etched into the contours of his friend’s face intensifies, if that’s even possible.
Lars swallows.
“It?”
“—about killing myself,” he rasps, “and finally being done with all this.”
…
So, he’s not gonna lie.
While— much like himself— Steven’s never been the sort of person to prefer wearing his most turbulent emotions on his sleeve, he’s long suspected something like this was going on with him.
He suspected (because he’s been right there in those trenches himself), but he never said anything.
He never mentioned these worries to any of his guardians.
And he never asked.
‘Cause like, how could he, right?? What a horrible, triggering inquiry that would be. ‘Hey Steven, hah, so random question— you don’t happen to casually fantasize about your own death or anything sometimes, do you?’ Fucking hell, what an asshole he’d make. What a disgusting, disgusting breech of boundaries. He always hated it when his parents violated his trust by butting into his own personal business unprompted, so how could he ever turn right around and do that to Steven? To one of his most cherished friends in the whole galaxy? To the guy who— despite years and years of putting up with all his toxic bullshit and daring to see the good in him anyways— literally brought him back to life?
Thus, with him never volunteering any information himself, all that was left for Lars to do was watch.
To watch, and to listen where he can.
But still.
He’s not gonna lie.
Even if he always kinda suspected, even if so many of their interactions this past year only acted as fuel for all his constant, silent worries, hearing the kid actually say those words hurts like a bitch.
…
“Steven…” he utters with widened eyes, extending his hand.
To no avail, though.
“And that’s stupid, right??” the teen blurts out with a broad sweep of his arms, either ignoring or plain not noticing his offer of comfort as he rants onwards, his demeanor growing more and more unstable with each and every syllable. “That’s just… stupid! Normal people don’t think like that! Normal people don’t make mistakes and instantly leap to the worst possible punishment and spin that little thought around, and around, and around in your head until you’ve considered a thousand different scenarios that all end the same way.”
He pauses for breath, his chest heaving in and out— probably amidst the exertion of being so damn honest for once. Lars doesn’t even make a sound within this brief span of quiet. A part of him is a little terrified at what else might spill out of his friend’s mouth now that the cork of his anxieties has thoroughly been popped off, but he’s even more terrified at the thought of derailing him, of unintentionally stopping these truths from ever being spoken.
“And it’d be so easy, too,” Steven says, his once manic tone dropping a little lower, into something that’s worryingly more akin to numb acceptance. “I already know exactly how I’d do it! All I’d have to do is smash my gem so I don’t heal, and slit my wrists, and let myself just—” his voice cracks— “drift away, b-but—”
Lars’ brow hardens with a sudden rush of understanding as the trajectory of the teen’s sentence trails on off. “But something’s… holding you back?”
He nods, swallowing so hard that he can see the resultant lump move along the center line of his throat.
“The problem is,” he says, voice raw and vulnerable, “I’ve already seen how my family would respond to that. To… to me trying to kill myself. When I turned into that monster, I— I don’t actually remember much about it, but what I do remember is that the last thought I had before I changed was eerily similar to what I’m feeling now.”
Momentary lull. He’s rotating a thought in his head with the same intensity of a set of steam engine gears grinding against each other, that much is obvious.
“I think… for me,” he continues with marked hesitation, “corruption was a form of suicide. Which means—” he grinds his fingers into the soft fabric of his pajama bottoms as if seeking out an anchor, any anchor at all— “I already know what that would do to them. And I hate that I do, b-because… ‘cause I’m just so tired. Of all of this. I just want everything to stop. I want to stop.”
Lars can’t help but wince as he listens to the developing theme of this admission, to how each and every new word his friend weaves into existence falls into such dissonant harmony with the gloomy, directionless version of himself he’s worked so hard to let rest in the past. Hell, he might as well be looking straight into some weird, warped mirror of his own teenage years. His lungs seize tight upon this revelation. Instinctively, he extends his hand towards the guy’s shoulder, sobered by the understanding that he’s possibly the sole person in this entire quadrant who’s capable of conveying even an ounce of sympathy or comfort for what he’s battling through right now.
“Hey, man. It’s okay. It’s over, now, you’re here with me. Those are just thoughts, y’know?”
Steven shakes his head, the motion swift and drenched with the dread of all his unaddressed self-loathing.
“But they’re not, though…”
“Wait, what are you even—?”
“Because… this time I almost carried through with it.”
His expression crumples upon the advent of this spoken revelation.
Fuck, he thinks, wishing with every last brittle nerve in his body that this conversation didn’t just swerve in the exact godawful direction he always feared it might. What the actual fuck.
He is so not equipped for this.
With literally nothing else in his arsenal but the drive to bite his lip and listen, Lars motions for him to continue.
Sniffling, the teen backs his story up to provide what little context he feels comfortable with sharing.
“After Connie and I’s fight… well, my dreams were really, really bad. So I woke up. Alone. And I started spiraling real bad again, an’… and then before I could even process what was happening, I—”
Sweet stars, is the poor guy trembling as he struggles to push this admission out. With a brief waver of hesitation (‘cause in normal circumstances, he’s not huge on all this touchy-feely stuff), he reaches over, angling to rest one of his hands over Steven’s.
“I had the knife in my hand,” he says. “And a pestle from the kitchen, to smash my gem. B-but I just… I just couldn’t do it! I’m just a coward, Lars! A stupid fucking coward who can’t even—”
He doesn’t utter a single syllable.
He doesn’t even think. (How could he, in such fraught circumstances?)
Limbs trembling in an outright terrifying cascade of adrenaline he hasn’t experienced since the day he finally found something worth existing for, Lars surges forward to wrap him into what’s gotta be the tightest, most sincere hug he’s given in his whole twenty-one years of life.
And thankfully, such an impulsive interjection is all it takes.
The walls his friend’s erected around himself this past season topples like wayward dominos. They smash against the ground, crumbling into vulnerable, vulnerable fragments.
Steven sobs into his shoulder with a raw, shattered fervency that stretches leagues beyond any outpour of emotion he’s ever witnessed from another living person. It’s messy. It’s visceral. And in the precise context of this intensely specific turn of events, it’s a damn cathartic relief… because when it comes to training your brain out of a deep-rooted death wish, feeling anything— literally anything at all— is step number fucking one.
“I wanted to die so badly,” the teen warbles, his ugly mixture of snot and tears staining his shirt all the while. “B-but… I’m just such a worthless, pathetic failure that I can’t even do that right!”
He can’t help but cringe at this admission, but resolves to remain silent, not wanting a gentle pushback to such brutal self-loathing to spook Steven away from showing any shred of vulnerability whatsoever. He’s been there plenty of times himself. After all, when a person who’s caught in such a void of hopelessness and despair makes a last ditch appeal for help, they’re usually not looking to be told ‘everything will get better in time, you’ll see’ or ‘don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re not a worthless failure at all,’ or whatever other empty attempt at reassurance someone who doesn’t have such intimate experience with depression and suicidal ideation as he does might come up with. In many cases, such people are simply vying for their bleakest, most private feelings to actually be heard for once in their lives.
The moment’s sanctity unhindered, the boy continues to cry against his shoulder for a good long stretch of time. Lars barely even breathes as he sits perched at the very edge of that couch, consigned to nothing but a statue as he holds him within what’s gotta be a record for the galaxy’s most awkward and stiff embrace ever shared.
A miniature eternity passes within this space before those sobs finally begin to lighten up.
“‘M sorry,” Steven mumbles through a face full of snot, pulling away from his offered comfort as a flicker of shame wrests control of his features.
Lars shakes his head in a vehement refusal of the habitual guilt spiral he’s sure the guy’s a split second from slipping right into. “Dude, don’t be. Stars, I— I’m just glad you came over to me, okay?”
Then, swallowing… and doing his upmost best to consider the most respectful way to broach such a sensitive topic, he continues:
“I… I don’t mean to pry, but… are you… taking anything for this?”
Steven’s glassy expression scrunches into a configuration that screams nothing but blank confusion. “What?”
“Like… medication, or—?”
A bright understanding dawns within his gaze like the glow from a passing star system, before immediately collapsing inwards into a bitter, shadowed singularity.
“No… no,” he protests, gesticulating all the while, “I keep telling everyone— my therapist, my dad, the Gems— I don’t wanna take any medicine! I’m not sick, I’m not, I don’t need drugs in my brain, I just— I just need to stop acting like this, just need to do better, to be better, I-I need—”
“Steven, no offense, but it’s called mental illness for a reason,” Lars says in the most deadpan tone he can muster, crossing his arms as he leans back upon the plush of the couch cushion. “Your brain is ill. That’s literally what this is. If you had the flu, you’d be taking flu medicine to help yourself get over it, right?”
“I’ve never had the flu,” he says in miserable contradiction.
“Yeah, well— come on, man, just work with me here,” he half-snaps, throwing a hand up for emphasis. “You agree that someone who is ill deserves medicine to feel better, right?”
The teen merely shrugs, his features growing cold and sullen. And good golly does he super want to smack all this noncommittal, self-sabotaging bullshit out of his stupid fucking system right this instant— because it reminds him so damn much of himself, and he hates that it does— but… aughhh. He’s gotta be more mature than that, doesn’t he?
As the older of the pair, he’s gotta be the role model here.
“Then, don’t you think you might benefit from the same thing?” he presses.
Steven responds in the negative, swiveling his head from side to side. “I don’t know how it’d interact with… well—”
He flashes a sharp gesture towards himself. More specifically, towards his very center, where his gem sits. Lars has no need to live inside his thoughts to pick up on the tricky little issue he’s hinting at here… he’s worried about how human medications would interact with the complexities of part-Gem physiology. And to be fair, it’s a reasonable concern to have.
But then again…
“That’s how it is with humans, too,” he shrugs. “It takes some people a lot of trial and error to find a drug and dosage that works for them. For once, you wouldn’t be any more an unusual case than anyone else. Do what you want, but—” deep inhale— “if it were me, I’d really consider talking with a psychiatrist about this.”
The teen issues a dull huff through his nose. It’s the sort of response that makes it clear he reluctantly agrees with Lars’ logic, but should he actually follow his advice— and stars, he hopes he does— won’t be doing so with a willing heart. That’s fine, though. Sometimes, being the most supportive friend one can be means that the other party won’t always like what you have to say. He knows this from intense personal experience… from being the person on the other side of this kind of conflict. Sadie was never afraid of serving him the tough love and cutting perspective he needed when he opened up to her about his own experience with suicidal ideation, and he’s forever grateful for that. Thus, the least he can do now is try to be that kind of advocate for Steven, too.
Which brings him to the next vital topic rattling within his brain.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Lars says, folding his hands in his lap and looking him directly in the eye. “This is important, so please be honest with me. Have you told anyone else you’ve been struggling with these kinds of thoughts?”
“Not really,” he mumbles, his own gaze slipping aside amidst the turbulent throes of his clear shame. “I just… I wanted to deal with this myself. I don’t want them to be disappointed. They all think I’m doing so well these days, but then—”
“Steven.”
There’s no acknowledgement of his call, at first. He’s just too damn tangled within his own thoughts— expression glazed over and restless fingertips drumming in an endless thrall against his thigh.
“Steven, come on. Look at me,” he implores, interrupting his manic fidgeting with the reassuring solidity of a hand over his. “Please. Promise me, when you go back through my head, you’ll call someone else— anyone else— and tell them. Tell them, and then have them contact me. I want to hear you promise.”
“Lars…”
“Promise me,” he repeats with an even stronger fervency, his normally sluggish heartbeat surging halfway to its old full-strength status quo. “Listen, I don’t want to invade your privacy any more than you want me to, but if you don’t do this by the end of tomorrow… if that very clock—” he jabs a finger towards the so-mentioned object hanging upon his wall— “hits midnight and I don’t hear anything from your family… then I’m calling your father and telling him myself.”
Steven’s expression twists with a sharp jolt of dismay, his mouth falling ajar. Lars cuts off any pending protests with a swift flash of his hand and continues undeterred.
“I’m not joking. I’m like, a billion light years in space, man. You need someone closer to home in your corner, too.”
Unable to ignore the hard hitting truth of this statement, his friend finally acquiesces to his request, his shoulders slumping inwards.
“Fine,” he mumbles, folding his arms to his chest. “I promise I’ll tell Dad.”
“Thank you,” he breathes in sheer spine tingling relief. And by golly, does he uber mean it.
Because holy shit, have the past fifteen or so minutes of conversation been an absolute stress-soaked ordeal. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so emotionally exhausted in his whole ass existence.
“In the morning, though,” Steven adds. “I—” the kid heaves a long, exhausted sigh— “I really don’t think either of us are prepared for that kind of conversation this late.”
“Absolutely fair enough.”
His friend sniffles a little, gaze averting once more. “Can I— can I stay here, for tonight? I really, really don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Of course,” he nods. In his mind, Steven’s request was never a matter up for debate. “Always. I’ll… I’ll go get some blankets.”
Hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, Lars pushes himself off the couch and slowly shuffles his way to the door. (The storage closet he keeps all his extra personal elements in is a short distance down the hall, past Rhody and Padparadscha’s shared room.) He keeps his expression as blank as he can muster… at least until he’s moved well out of both visual and auditory range. And then… once he’s absolutely positive that Steven can’t overhear… all that built-up worry and emotional strain simply overflows.
He’s not outright crying— not in the way that others might— but damn if he’s not real close to it.
Lars’ whole body shudders with a burst of delayed grief as he braces himself upon the closet door. He clamps a hand over his mouth, stifling the impact of the shaky exhale that spills from his lips otherwise unhindered. Just… fuck. What the fuck. All of this feels like a horrible nightmare. When the hell did things get so bad for him? Who let things get this bad? Is he at fault—? Like, geeze— he always knew something felt awry with the kid (and that’s half the issue, isn’t it? He’s not just a sweet little kid with simple lil’ problems anymore, and in many ways he never was), but should he have said something? Confronted him about it? Told his guardians about his concerns, privacy be damned?
He grits his teeth as he muddles over all the infinite complexities of this problem.
Ugh.
What if, what if, what if.
It’s all useless conjecture.
The bottom line is, Steven doesn’t deserve any of this. Not then, not now, not ever. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of these horrid, horrid thoughts. Stars, if anything had happened to him— if he actually did follow through with his plan, then—
Lars drops his head against the door panel, doing everything within his power to will the thought to evaporate from his mind.
No.
No…
He doesn’t even want to consider that possibility. Steven’s like a brother to him at this point. It’s not gonna happen. Not now, not ever. Not on his watch.
He’s not sure how yet, but he’ll make damn sure of it.
…
Once he’s cooled himself down, Lars returns to his quarters with a couple of blankets in hand.
Upon passing through the doorframe, he’s met with a somewhat reassuring sight: Steven already sound asleep on his ratty old couch, curled up against the armrest and snoring softly. Heh. He sure doesn’t blame him for tuckering out so soon. Poor guy must’ve been exhausted after such a rigorous emotional outpouring. Moving with calm intent so as not to disturb him, he quickly lays the blankets across his slumbering form before retreating to the far wall to keep watch for the night. He stretches back against the metallic panel, inhaling as deep as he can muster to erase the quavering tension staining his countenance.
Standing vigil over a soul in need… just in case.
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random Merlin Rewatch: Where a random number generator gives me a season and an episode from BBC Merlin; and then I comment on it as I go.
Today's episode: Season 2 Episode 11 - The Witch's Quickening
First off, before I start. It's got Mordred on the cover, so I'm assuming it's the episode where Merlin tries to kill little baby Mordred? And bby Mordred fucking shows off some of his magic in it as well. Don't remember much else but that, so.
LET'S FUCKING GO INTROOOOOOOOOOO
Oh, it's that ugly ass blonde guy that's gonna manipulate Morgana or whatever it is. Ugh. I don't like him. Glad to see him on the floor, but I know it's all a ruse.
Why is every Camelot knight fucking useless, y'all cannot be serious right now.
Was he. Fucking floating or something??? That looked goofy as shit, brother. Loser.
LET'S GO MUSICCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC
It is a testament that Camelot must have a lot of different knights and guards, 'cause they don't recognize the guy but that's alright. I'm assuming they're so used to seeing each other with the helmets that they just. Forget each other's faces?? I don't know, maybe it's me, but I can recognize a face.
Oop, not Merlin snooping in on some random telepathy convo.
Before that, I wanted to comment. Absolutely bonkers that they're carrying Mordred (? maybe) inside a barrel. At least I'm assuming that's what they're doing.
That must've been so goofy to film, thank god colin just puts his whole pussy into everything he does.
A rare occasion of some guards being useful. Too bad magic's a thing, huh.
Does the druid speak give Merlin headaches?? Poor boy looks like is getting one. Also he looks so comfy.
NOT MORDRED INSIDE THE BARREL, MY GOD. That cannot have been comfy. Also him just. getting out like that. So creepy, I respect it.
Oh the two people just lifting him up like that, he's so smol!!
Why does the blonde guy has such a slutty shirt, wtf.
Why is Morgana sleeping with a big ass bracelet on, girl, take that off!!! You don't need it babe.
Morgana smiling :((((( My love.
OOP ICONIC ARTHUR CHOKING MERLIN UP THE WALL SCENE, LET'S GO
Ohhh the way Arthur just get's so protective when Merlin tells him they're in Morgana's chambers. They love each other so much, I'm SICK.
Ugly ass man, no one asked for you to talk, BITCH. fucking Alvarr or whatever the fuck, he can suck my dick, his vibes are SO OFF.
Morgana is so empathetic, like, she GETS IT!!! Of course she has some degree of privilege by being Uther's ward, but she is so fucking afraid everyday of being found out!! I'm SICK.
NOT MERLIN GETTING ALL GIDDY BY A COMPLIMENT FROM ARTHUR, OUGHHHHH
Hate seeing Morgana get so manipulated, hate it hate it, I'm SICK OF IT, LET MY GIRL LIVE HER FUCKING LIFE
EWWWW GET AWAY FROM HER, EWWWW
AHHHHHHHH MORGANA'S ACTING IS SO GOOD, FUCK I LOVE THIS SCENE, SO GOOFY!!!
She's so gorgeous. But also I love Merlin's little head tilt at Morgana's excuse "Don't you think if there was someone in my room, I'd know about it?" because, frankly, no you wouldn't!! And merlin knows this, but she says it with so much confidence they just take it.
Damn, Arthur getting so sassy n aggressive 'cause he was so scared of finding a horrific scene in Morgana's chambers, and now he's got nothing but Merlin to let out steam to. Damn, damn, boys.
I don't Mordred understands that his role in this mission is nothing more than just ensuring they get the crystal via manipulating Morgana with his existence. Very sick game Alvarr is playing. But Mordred could also be in the know. Hmmm.... we'll see.
Merlin IS very smart, he understands people, but most of all he understands magic users and what they need to do to survive, even if it means sacrificing yourself for others to survive.
Ough, that braid and that green dress. Morgana is just stunning.
"I was looking for Arthur." immediately looks down, guilty as fuck. Morgana is a good liar, but that doesn't mean she likes it all the time. This is Merlin, someone she supposedly trusts. And she is committing a serious crime. Tense.
God, I do love the aesthetics of this show. Love it love it, the fire, the stone walls, everything. And they never played about the clothes.
Merlin can never sleep in peace, and Arthur can never eat in peace.
Well. I do have to say, I was wondering why Arthur's door wasn't locked if he's known to be away. Merlin babe that's kinda on you, you should've locked it :///
Love the difference between Merlin apologising to Arthur n him just walking away, and then Uther being very harsh to Arthur for the same reason. Something something if Arthur can, he'll bear the burden/blame of others since he already feels responsible for a whole kingdom even as a prince, so what's more of that weight on his shoulders right? Technically, the fault is Merlin's but if Arthur can help it, Uther will never know it. He cares so much for Merlin.
Arthur lying through his teeth for Merlin, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
This damn fucking dragon, fuckkkkkkkkkk
"Because you don't have a choice." OOP MERLIN ATE WITH THAT ONE.
God, the way Kilgarrah talks abt Morgana, I hate it!! UGH
Hm. The fact that Mordred possibly can use the crystal but Morgana can't (KIlgarrah's words). Interesting. So, from least to most poweful: Morgana<Mordred<Merlin.
Gwen just trying to spend as much time with Morgana because I bet they normally chat and stuff.
Oof, the mix of anger/fear/apprehension on Gwen's face with "My Lady." i bet it doesn't happen often when Gwen is reminded that Morgana is a lady and has the power to fucking execute her at will, she's that powerful. It must be so scary when she gets reminded of that. Of course, she knows Morgana would never; but what if?
The difference between Morgana's pristine tall white horse and Merlin's smaller black horse. Love that. Loveeeee it.
Oof. The fact that Morgana balks at Alvarr and his strategy of just. Killing anyone at Uther's side, even innocents. Like, she just cannot understand that, but!! She's at her most vulnerable at this time. Right now, she's not sure what's right or wrong. She doesn't know if what she thinks it's the right thing to do anymore, if it's what's needed for magic to be free, for her to be free of this fear and be herself. Is cruelty the answer? Is she being too merciful? I wonder if these are thoughts that she's having, knowing that what feels right is that she doesn't want to kill civilians, just bring Uther down. But what if her approach is wrong, and they fail, and it makes it all worse? What is there cannot be any "half measures"?
DONT FUCKING TOUCH HER BITCH EW
"I dont want to be alone anymore." THIS!!!! This is what leads to Morgana becoming what she becomes in season 3. Ultimately, she feels so alone. What other friends she has besides Gwen? Arthur? And now those two are poisoned because of her secret. She doesn't know if she can trust them fully anymore. She was already bitter, and full of hatred for Uther, and she was already capable of being ruthless and brave. But this? Being alone? This is what sets her off at her path. Even if she has allies, in the end she will always feel isolated, separated, alone. Even with Morgause. The second she gets into the mindset of "I have nothing of value to lose." She goes down Uther's path. The second she convinces herself that everyone either wants her dead or gone or whatever, she's on Uther's path. And Morgause doesn't count; she helps with this actually. Because Morgause is also very isolated and alone, but still puts herself in a certain distance with Morgana. Yes, they're sisters, they're High Priestesses. But they know their roles are much grander than themselves. Morgause even makes Morgana sacrifice her for their shared goal. The connection she has with Morgause only intensifies this idea that Morgana does not need others, she has a purpose outside of herself, and nothing else matters. This is what leads her down Uther's path. And once you start self-destructing, you realize how easy it is; and how much harder it becomes to put yourself back together again.
EWWWW THEY ALMOST KISSED!!! Another proof that Morgana is just so desperate for connection. First sign she sees of pure acceptance without fear she wants to dive right into that "safety". Ugh. Hate Alvarr and his manipulation.
EWWWWWWWW FUCK I HATE THIS GUY BROOOO
Oop, cult leader esque vibes. Should've known.
Not Gaius straight up telling Merlin "Let's lie to the King." Bet Merlin teases him abt that.
Goddd, I love their sibling banter. Also love how Arthur just cannot seem to tell when someone's hiding something when they're someone he truly deeply loves n trusts. Hope that doesn't bite him in the ass or something.
DON'T FUCKING KISS HER EWWUHHHH
Not Arthur just bullying the fuck out of Merlin. Too bad he's too busy listening to a telepathic convo.
THIS IS SO FUNNY, MERLIN JUST BEING LIKE "There's a footprint!!! (Oh fuck it's not enough, um-) LOOK!! MORE!!!"
"Yes they are" says Merlin prophetically and then somebody get shot with an arrow. Seriously, how did nobody get that Merlin was a sorcerer?? Did they just think he was. very weird???? Actually, that's exactly it.
Not Merlin aiding in the death of a child.
And just like that, another part of the prophecy solidified. Welp!!
Not Merlin seeing what Kilgarrah will do if he releases him and then that's exactly what he does.
OUGH??? MORGANA SENDING AWAY THE GUARDS WITH JUST A FLICK OF HER HAND??? HOT?????
OOP??? I FORGOT HOW HARD SHE WENT IN THIS SCENE HOLY SHIT???? This was, lowkey, Morgana sealing her fate. She was just so done with being passive and just taking the luxury of being Uther's ward. She saw what Alvarr and the druids and anyone with magic has had to do to survive and to end this reign of terror and she got so sick of just being on the side-lines. No wonder it was so easy for her to just betray them past this point. To her, she was already alienated from Uther and Camelot and everything it stands for. Alvarr being sentenced to death, not even telling the whole truth of her aiding him, radicalized her here. The title of this episode makes so much sense, this is Morgana getting more and more cold and ruthless towards Camelot whether before she just hated it and suffered under it. Go off queen.
OUGHHHH NOW THAT BROKE UTHER'S HEART, DAMN!!! She fully just. resigned from this family (I don't think she's fully processed that this means resigning from Arthur as well, she's just so focused on Uther).
OUGH THAT LAST LINE. UTHER'S SHOOK BITCHHHHH
"The future is as yet unshaped." This is why I believe destiny is not set in stone, but!! Once you do a set of actions, one path of the future solidifies and it is basically impossible to erode yourself out of it. But not truly impossible.
Morgana lying to Gwen, separating herself more n more from those she loves but that could hinder her new path. Oof...
Not Morgana bribing the guards with alcohol, jesus they're so stupid.
Fucking HATE ALVARR UGHHHHH
Oh, the way that Uther knows, and Morgana knows he knows, but Uther just cannot bear the thought of the truth, cannot say it out loud. OOOOOHHHH DELICIOUSSSSSSSSS
Damn what a good ass episode bro. This is really where we see Morgana become herself, I guess; or the hateful, ruthless version of her. It is both sad but so freeing to see. But I do think she only really wanted Uther to be gone, her hatred for Arthur and Merlin came later, through Morgause and her manipulation, but also their own actions.
#merlin#bbc merlin#arthur pendragon#morgana pendragon#hey look i posted a thing#Merlin Random Rewatch#had ton of funnnnn
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
will could not make it any more obvious come on michael get your head in the game
#this look ALONE would've convinced me that someone is in love with me#come on michael#stop being oblivious for once#i was gonna say something else about this scene#but i know what some of yall are like#so i didnt#byler#byler endgame#will byers#anti mileven
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
Holy fuck, man. What a trip Fearne has been on, huh?
You tell her how grateful you are to have her in your life, you flatter her, you tell her you need her, that you have to do this together. You have her make a promise that has this woman, born of chaos and fey, agreeing through shaking hands and a trembling voice.
You make her deceive your friends; you make her follow where they cannot know; you make her help you into this contraption; you make her feed this thing into you despite the fact that you both have been warned extensively of the risks. You make her watch you crumble and splinter and shatter and fracture and burst and implode. You make her watch you die, over and over and over and over, for a minute in agonizing bullet time.
You make her do all these things, because when she tries to back out, when she tries to not be the one who let you do this—how could you do this—
you tell her, "YOU PROMISED."
Because if there's one thing you know, it's that the fey do not break a promise.
#cant wait for her to fucking pissed for a very long time. shes really packing the entire human experience in a very short period of time.#critical role#cr spoilers#c3e77#fearne calloway#ashton greymoore#bells hells#just gonna get ahead of the um actually mfs and state that i am aware that its not confirmed that thats why ash brought up the promise#but boy howdy would it make for some great drama down the line huh?#edit: apparently i did not get ahead enough cuz ive had to turn off replies#since ppl were somehow interpreting this mini introspection piece as me infantilizing fearne??#anyway the first line is now changed to something a bit more neutral. after sleeping on it i do see how it was a bit aggressive at the top#other than that im not sure how else to reword without completely disregarding the core of the post#i might make more posts addressing this but im not sure yet. i wanna try to approach it in the best way possible.#but if it helps any the point of the post was not to say fearne had no agency. she had plenty of moments where she tilted one way or the#other. the POINT was to just shine some light on the emotional pressure she had been put under.#hasnt your friend ever asked you to keep a secret or promise that felt wrong or unsafe or made you anxious?#it has nothing to do with the amount of agency she had. ash wasnt holding a knife to her throat and forcing her to follow against her will#all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an#overview of the kinda stress she was under BEFORE theyd reached that scene. this entire ep was everyone discussing how grateful they were#for this family theyd made. and while im not saying ash was PURPOSELY emotionally manipulating fearne..#there is a level of unintentional manipulation when you pair the severity of his request with the convo theyd had 2 seconds prior#as well as the desperate need they all have to save each other NO MATTER WHAT.#ash was giving incredibly strong energy of a friend who peer pressures you into helping them do something that you know in your gut WILL#cause problems. hes a fucked up guy. theyre all fucked up guys. even if he didnt mean to “force” her into anything the pressure was THERE.#<- i feel like all of this overall gets my message across. i think maybe ill clean it up later into its own post.#im gonna try not to rush myself to get it done tho.#im under no obligation to explain myself. especially when ppl approach the misunderstanding by being rude af. but i do think it CAN#be clarified so id at least like to try to some degree
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
what was he gonna say WHAT WAS HE GONNA SAY?!?!!
#the bear#sydcarmy#i just rewatched that scene in ep9 where he asks about her mom#and thinking about how their walls are coming down#and they're opening up to each other and how carmy wants to know more about her#then i remembered this scene and him talking about her dad and asking about her mom and that he was gonna say something else#but he never finished his sentence#WHAT WAS THE REASON#WHAT WAS HE GONNA SAY#was he gonna give her more advice like earlier#was he gonna ask more about their relationship#what was he gonna say i need to know#but srsly we're literally watching them go from a very deep working relationship#to a very deep personal relationship right in front of our eyes#like this is them becoming integrated into each other's lives
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
y3 has made me feel many things but one of the things that lingers with me the most about it is how majima takes every possible opportunity and makes every possible gesture to say “please don’t leave me alone again, please take me with you when you leave, I WANT to be right next to you when you need me, I’ll literally do anything for you, just don’t leave me alone again” always indirectly but in strong enough ways that i think it’d be obvious to anyone paying attention EXCEPT Kazuma Kiryu, The Densest Man On Earth, who he’s pleading to in the first place. it’s. frustrating to watch. someone needs to grab kiryu by the shoulders and tell him. for the love of god. this man loves you so much and you keep leaving him when all he wants to do is help you and be with you please just take him to okinawa oh my god
#kazumaji#it’s FRUSTRATING#specifically thinking about the scene in the bar after the pink truck debacle#where majima finally says like. if you’re going to Okinawa to deal with this whole assassination thing or whatever comes up I’m coming#with you. you don’t have a ton of support down there and me and you together are basically unstoppable#pretty much completely outright#and kiryu. the dense stubborn motherfucker he is. is like. i don’t have No One down there I have a few friends (missing the point). I’ll be#fine. I don’t need your help there. you should stay here#I’ll give him some credit because then saying ‘someone has to stay here and keep the Tojo clan from total collapse’ is a good point and it#does mean something that he trusts majima to be that person (especially given I don’t think anyone else on earth would trust him with that)#(despite him being totally capable- you know mad dog persona and all that blah blah blah)#like that’s a good point idk who else would be a good choice to do that considering daigo’s out of commission and who’s even left after that#obviously mine is Sketchy. kashiwagi is (supposedly) dead. everyone else kiryu trusts in the yakuza is dead or injured more or less.#not gonna leave fuckin DATE in charge or something#so. fair enough point. but nonetheless it doesn’t erase the fact that kiryu overlooks what majima means in the grander scheme of things#and still believes first and foremost that he doesn’t need/want his help when he does and he should#he’s just. allergic to making life easier for himself#among other issues#sigh#yakuza 3#y3#goro majima#kazuma kiryu#kiryu#majima#rambling
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
The way they framed surfer boy pizza with Mike in s4 makes me optimistic about the prospects of smalltown boy agenda actually
#byler#stranger things#mike wheeler#something about the van scene is so visceral…#the way the shadow of boy passes behind him#the back window is blurry but then boy becomes clear after Mike sees the painting until will says it was from el then blurs again#the way he’s sitting directly in front of it after rink o mania bc his mind was on Will (boy) and not El (girl)…#also the two snack (bar) references in s4 with byler looking incriminating in the frame…#idk smalltown boy agenda is low key still in the running I feel like#in general it's going to be crazy being a byler and seeing the duffers hint about stuff that only we understand#like with that Dawsons creek reference recently#Redditors are out of our league atp#like if smalltown boy was even referenced at all subtly in an obscure ass way…#we would be hyperventilating like okay it’s happening#and everyone else would just be like what?...#same with the milkvan break up in early s5… like we know from a story standpoint it’s guaranteed..#but no one else is ready for that…#s5 fandom experience is gonna be really satisfying for bylers that’s all I’m gonna say!#also the promo has to really ramp up positively for byler if they expect to pushback all the criticism successfully#there’s going to be a lot of homophobia and claims byler only happened bc of fan service#that’s why I do think they’re going to have no choice but to change their tune#bc it would be weird to go from not considering byler a possibility at all to surprise they're canon#they definitely want people to root for them while watching the last season!#s5 promo is most likely going to be like s4 but a little more intense#it’ll be HILARIOUS seeing people try to downplay obvious evidence#like if hypothetically they dropped a character teaser with all the characters and mike got one with smalltown boy in the background...#we would be on the floor#and all the redditors would be downplaying it like it means nothing!!#tbh I think byler would have to literally kiss for those still convinced there is zero evidence to actually consider it a possiblity#like they are 100% convinced there is zero evidence... and I just can't take that seriously..
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
rebirth is gonna destroy us i just know it
#as a zerith stan knowing aerith dies in zack's timeline is messing me up#like... they cannot meet unless they 'fix' the timelines or whatever#there's a chance the characters are not actually dead in zack's timeline but idk...#so yeah in the original timeline zack is dead of course#but in zack's timeline they are ALL dead. allegedly#so essentially it's like. if zack gets to live the others die instead??#what is zack's timeline gonna be like? i'm so curious and confused and lowkey scared aksjhkahlds#it's too soon to assume things but it doesn't look good for zack 🥴#he only has cloud atm and he's still in a bad condition apparently#he wasn't anywhere in that last scene in the DLC so either zack left him resting somewhere#or something else happened?#idk about y'all but i'm kinda going insane thinking about theories#the more i rewatch the trailer the more i realize how depressing it could potentially be...#also sephiroth might be travelling between the timelines#and i'm thinking... zackseph reunion maybe? 👀#he was also calling genesis but the trailer was from Ever Crisis right?#so what's going awn.......#i've seen ppl saying the tornado which potentially killed the party probably let weiss nero AND genesis out...#out of the deepground i mean#so does that mean zack will have to face the three of them at some point? that happened in HIS timeline#anyway i'm rambling ajskhakjs i HAVE TOO MANY QUESTIONS
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
absolutely hilarious to me the contrast of writing happenstance while occasionally getting inspiration & drafting stuff for my next project which is… drastically different 😅 here’s a wholesome scene about the power of friendship & love 😊 ok now here’s a family of deeply hurt & flawed individuals with absolutely no hope of salvaging any of their relationships ever 💔
#scream au is gonna be so different from anything else I’ve written if I follow through with it 😱#it’s honestly fun tho. really a fan of the scene I just drafted between Azula & kiyi. I usually write them with a wholesome twist#but uh. don’t count on much wholesomeness from the fire fam at any point if I do this idea 😅😅#there’s something delicious about two traumatized people who just absolutely fucking loathe each other tho you know#no hope kinda shit can be sexy sometimes what can I say <3#like. the. we could’ve been besties in another life maybe but it’s too late for that now & there’s no going back in time#also having fun letting kiyi be a little awful. as a treat#I should stfu this project is SO hypothetical#I need to stop vague ing 💀#rose.txt
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rebecca (1940, dir Alfred Hitchcock) // Vievee Francis, "Apologia" (Excerpt) // Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca
#THIS WAS THE POEM BTW. that no one asked for but I am offering regardless <3 <3#''SHE LOOKED ALMOST TRIUMPHANT'' !#rebecca#just gonna tag this under#web weaving#for organizational purpose#has anyone else been ruminating over this scene for years or has it just been me#she is constantly reminded of how different she is from rebecca (wrt beauty wit boldness etc etc)#but in retrospect with this confession rebecca's negatively perceived traits such as selfishness#are intended to be the unspoken additional differences maxim et al see between them#but then she hears maxim's confession and as the shock wears away-- she feels something akin to giddiness#selfishness one could say!#a triumph at last--right there in the chamber. it does feel like she's echoing rebecca a bit#(even if it is a hollow triumph imo)#and do I even need to go into fontaine's acting here. just so good#rebecca is really one of the most interesting iterations of the bluebeard tale#the last wife does still die in a sense. but it is alongside her bluebeard as a pair of unmoored ghosts#while the story remains forever enclosed in the first dead wife's fist#I'm now thinking about that rebecca fanfiction I wrote as a teenager where the first and second wife meet#and maxim just wasn't there lmao. shows my priorities#anyway i'm forever fascinated by both ladies in this story goodnight and thank you
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm having to rewrite a smut scene in vampire Johnny to better match the vibe of what's going on in the rest of the scene, so here is the cut snippet for those interested:
Because this bed is where Andy and I fucked. It's where we slept. It's where we hid out when the world was too much for us. The last time I saw him had been in this room. Steven's scent, his presence, all felt so out of place. Like a phantom in a faded old photograph.
“Steven -” I murmured, shutting my eyes. “I…I need to change the sheets first. If that's alright.”
Steven gave me a perplexed look then silently rolled himself off of me. I hurried out of the room and went to get fresh linens out of the closet down the hall. Once the sheets were changed, I took them down to the kitchen and put them in the wash so I'd not be bothered by the scent of them anymore. Though a part of me wanted to rip them right back out and keep them safely stowed away in my tomb.
I headed back up to Andy's room and found Steven sprawled on the bed with his hand on his stomach. His face was flushed, and his cock was straining up through his jeans, so I knew he'd been touching himself. Though I wasn't particularly surprised. He'd been randy since I woke up.
I sat myself on top of him and playfully wriggled my arse down until he started to moan. “Yeah? You need it? You need me to touch you?”
Steven let out a desperate sound, and I suddenly realised he was about to come. I wasn't sure how I knew that, exactly, but I figured it was something to do with the binding ritual. Arousal was as intense an emotion as fear was, after all.
I lifted myself up so he could breathe then started tugging my shirt off. The buttons kept slipping from my fingers so I yanked it over my head and onto the floor along with my undershirt. I rolled over onto my back to get my jeans off, but Steven pinned me and began to kiss along my shoulder. I wrapped my legs around him with a loud moan then tilted my head to the side so he could have better access to my neck.
The two small scars there, from where I was turned, were especially sensitive, and when Steven sank his teeth into them, I felt my eyes roll back. My cock let out a sudden jet of precome, and I frantically twisted myself up against him for more.
“Fuck -” A loud buzzing started up in my ears when he did it again, and I blindly tore at my jeans until they were out of the way. I tried to get a hand around my cock, but Steven knocked it away. “I gotta - I gotta come.”
Steven gave me a knowing look as he slid down between my thighs. He pressed his tongue right against my slit, and I couldn’t push him away. I couldn't do anything. My neck was burning. My stomach was tight. I was so fuckin’ close -
“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck!”
Steven wrapped his mouth around me as I began to come, and in no time at all he started to go lax and loose. I shakily wiped up the mess dripping from his lips and sighed.
“I told you not to do that, didn't I?” I rumbled, my body still trembling. My cock hadn't gone soft yet, either, and I gave it a few slow pulls just to tease myself. “Just look at the state you're in.”
#Vampire johnny#I might come back and repurpose some of this but I'm trying to like#Preserve the giant chunks of writing I keep having to delete cause I change my mind every 30 seconds#I'm trying to better bridge werewolf Andys like#Disappearance to this particular smut scene since they're fucking in Andys old bed#But this isn't the way I want to go about it so I'm gonna try something else#And if I do end up using this well hey free preview#I do really desperately want to put all my half finished stuff on a03#I just don't know a good way to do it#Or like my first drafts or my wips i might come back to#There's just so much shit in my google docs you guys#So much#Oh and if you're wondering#Johnnys come is an aphrodisiac#Because I say so
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tombsda
ohdeer
3baymares-blog
Three Bay Mares
rotbegardon
Untitled
govtjobsector
Govt Job Sector
bestchildsafetypoolalarm-blog
what is the best pool alarm