#<- technically. its blue without his suit so

[ratgingi]

hey guys

[damselneedssaving]

BATBOYS BUT THEY WITNESS A STRANGER PULL F!READER INTO A HUG AND CLAIM TO BE HER BOYFRIEND. FT. MARK GRAYSON! P.T.1

★ TAGS: older!damian wayne, older!duke thomas, everyone is 18+, mention of death, romance, mark is utterly devoted to you, jealousy, lots and lots of jealousy, little bit of dark!batboys, kind of dark!mark too

★ A/N: yes ik the pic is technically the mark variant who wears a shiesty but that's still mark and it's a hot pic so it's staying. anyway that poll on if y'all would read a mark grayson x reader fic alongside the batboys x reader was almost unanimously yes and i'm so happy because of it 🤭

★ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ★ | ★ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ★

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW YOU ENDED UP HERE—

—trapped in the embrace of a stranger.

One moment, you're in your kitchen, preparing a nice, hot bowl of popcorn for both you and your house guests—the next?—you're at your door, stood rigid and tight and ever-so-still as your arms are pinned to your sides by another pair. A stronger pair.

A stranger's pair.

The embrace is warm, seeping with this longing you've only ever felt from Dick that one time he returned from a mission that lasted way longer than it should've; that one time he hugged you swearing he'd never let go.

But even then... Dick did eventually pull away.

Something about this stranger's tight grip tells you they won't.

Your name is whispered, breathed out on the tongue of whoever it is holding you as he squeezes just that tad bit more, just that tad bit tighter.

It's strange. You're sure you've never met this man in your life, yet something about his embrace feels familiar, intimate in a way no stranger could ever imitate. 

No stranger but this one at least.

You can ponder on it for all but a few more seconds before a new warmth is on your shoulder—this time: a recognisably familiar one—and without being given a moment to even blink, you're yanked out of the embrace of the stranger, vision flooded with the broad back of your dear friend as a click bounces off the walls of your once quiet apartment.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't lodge this bullet between your eyes."

Jason stands before you, finger nestled snug against the trigger of his gun like it's just waiting for the opportunity to pull it, like he's just as eager to give it the command to do so.

The stranger puts his hands up, and it's just then that you realise he's clad in a skin-tight suit. Yellow and blue. With goggles over his eyes. 

"I don't want any trouble."

"Yeah?" scoffs Jason, "Well you shoulda thought of that before pulling up at princess here's door."

"[Name], get behind me," Dick calls from further in your apartment, a hand quick to spread out over your clothed stomach and push you even further back than before.

You know by the way your light starts to flicker that Duke's also on guard, and you can't imagine that Tim or Damian are that far off either.

The tension in the room is thick—heavy in the air and just as swallowing—the boys' muscles all taut. It's as though they're ready to lunge the moment just a strand of hair moves out of place.

You try to swallow, but all that goes down your throat is sandpaper.

He catches it though.

The stranger's head tilts ever so slightly after your gulp, just enough so that you're fully in his field of view again.

From under those goggles, you can't really see his eyes, but the way his brows visibly pinch is enough for you to feel the desperation radiating off his form when he speaks your name again.

Dick moves to cover you further. "I don't think so, buddy."

"Look," the man states simply, head subtly moving back up, "I don't mean any harm, really. I just wanna see her."

"Tt." The slink of a sword slipping out its sheath sounds from behind you. "And what business is it that you have with her?"

The stranger tilts his head again, letting out a frustrated grunt when Dick only moves to counter once more. "[Name] please," he whispers, tone uneven, watery and wavering, "it's me: Mark—"

Then he does something unlike your boys, unlike any vigilante you've ever seen really, and he moves his hand up to his mask, slipping it off with the ease and trust of someone not currently at the door of a stranger's house.

"—Your boyfriend?"

You can't even fully observe his face before a bang bounces off the walls of your home.

Your eyes widen, pupils shaking and hand already pushing Dick to the side as you hiss out a severely pissed, "Jason!" 

But before you can even think of screaming your heart out at him, of having a go at your friend for shooting an innocent person at your door, your mouth falls agape, muscles tensing just as much as the rest of the vigilantes you know as you catch sight of what you're sure should've been a dead man on the ground.

Except he isn't dead. And he's nowhere near the ground.

In fact, he's floating off of it, brows now furrowed and lips pulled tight into a snarl as he yells, "What the hell, man?! You just shot me!"

"And you aren't dead," Jason replies through gritted teeth. "Why the fuck aren't you dead?"

"Not to worry," Damian replies before the stranger—before Mark—can, "I'll fix that."

All it takes is the lights flickering once more and the sound of a staff whirling in the wind for you to snap out of your little stupor, for you to see and hear and feel everything around you once again.

And once you do, your voice rings clear and final.

"Enough."

The boys tense, forms faltering as their eyes finally leave the stranger to fall on you.

You take a step forward.

Duke blocks your way.

"Duke." Your arms fold over your chest, his name stern and heavy on your tongue.

"[Name]"—his brows furrow—"you can't be serious. This is a stranger. A meta too, no less."

"And you aren't?" You quirk a brow. His jaw ticks. "He hasn't done anything. All he did was hug me."

"That doesn't mean he won't do anything," he retorts stubbornly. "That doesn't mean he can't do anything." Then, his tone softens, brows scrunching a little as he regards you with a look all too warm and familiar. "I don't wanna lose you. Not you."

Your arms uncross, one hand gesturing out as you return his gentle look. "And you won't. I promise. Just let me talk to him."

You can tell he's reluctant, can see it in the way his jaw is still tense and his eyes suddenly can't meet your own. But you also know Duke, and you know that he's a hero—one that, if given the chance, will choose the option of peace over all else.

And so, his shoulders fall, and he steps to the side to allow you through, to which you flash him a grateful smile before taking a step forward...

...only to be blocked by yet another wall, one now back to facing the person floating at your door.

"Jason," you call, but he doesn't so much as spare you a glance. "Jason."

His jaw squares, the only sign you have that he's hearing you.

"Put the gun down."

But he doesn't listen. He hears you but he doesn't listen. Because of course he doesn't listen. You're speaking to Jason Peter Todd, when the fuck does he ever listen?

"Jason!"

"I'm not putting the gun down until he's bleeding on the fucking floor."

The meta snarls at Jason's words, and the latter is quick to return it with his own look of disdain, blood boiling enough for heat waves to be visible in the air around him, for even the hottest lava to envy what courses through his veins.

"Then get out of my way so that I can speak to him."

The man lets out a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "And let him feed you another lie to bring down your guard some more? I don't think so."

"I'm not lying," Mark hisses, floating just a tad bit closer.

"Oh yeah?" Jason tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting in that familiar way it does when he mocks a crook. "Why don't you say that to your so-called girlfriend? Because to me, it doesn't look like she even knows who you are at all."

That seemed to have hit a nerve, because the next thing you know, Mark is lunging forward, and Jason is just narrowly dodging his shove, rolling to the side and letting out another bullet in his direction.

You're only able to blink once before your form is engulfed, covered by the oldest brother in the room as he regards you with soft, gentle eyes.

Yours only scrunch in return.

"Dick, let go of me."

He tosses a glance over his shoulder as another bang rings out. "Don't think that's the best idea right now, princess."

"Dick."

He meets your gaze again.

"It's either you let me go so that I can break up the fight, or you let me go so that you can break up the fight. Your pick."

He holds your gaze for a few seconds, eyes wide and disbelieving. "You can't be serious."

You don't say a word, and he blinks owlishly.

"You're serious."

"Deadly."

"Okay, fuck," he curses, head turning to the side as his eyes all but seem to run through a dozen different scenarios at once, acting more like a computer screen than sclera.

Then, after at least two more seconds pass, he turns back to you, shoulders falling in quiet resignation.

"Fine. Stay here. I'll break it up. You're not going anywhere near that fight on my watch."

You feel the way your shoulders fall at his words, a wave of relief crashing over you like a sudden change in tide as you flash Dick a smile much like the one you gave Duke earlier and he starts to slowly get up with a roll of his shoulders.

"Alright you two, break it up."

Mark pauses, and Jason takes the opportunity to lunge, but before his arms can even graze the meta human, Dick hooks them under his own, and you quickly take the opportunity to put yourself between the three men.

You then proceed to waste no time to deliver a mountain of fury to the man who started the fight.

"Really, Jason?"

He pauses his struggling against his brother.

"I mean, seriously"—you throw your arms out in front of you, scoffing the words on your tongue out in disbelief so heavy, it fogs your vision—"you're a grown ass man, starting fights like a child, over something as small as someone claiming to be my boyfriend?"

He opens his mouth to retort, but purses his lips once you send him a narrow look, opting instead to scoff and turn his head to the side.

"Oh, and don't think I didn't notice you two getting ready to join in, Tim, Damian." You turn your stern gaze to the other two currently armed individuals in the room, and they both mirror their brother's reaction to a tee.

It's funny, really, how they react like children being scolded for something like drawing on the walls rather than grown men who were planning on murdering someone in the comfort of your home.

Or at least, Jason was.

Geez, you really thought you had this talk with him already, that he'd changed his previous ways and swapped out his real bullets for rubber ones, that he'd sworn off killing for the rest of his life.

Guess not.

You pinch your nose, taking in a breath and counting up to ten just like your momma taught you when you were little, just like you always do when your veins get a little too heated for your own good.

Each second in your head is a second the heat flushes out your system—and your muscles unscrew themselves from the stiff boards this whole night reduced them to—until eventually, you can feel yourself finally calming down.

Then you open your eyes again and witness the mess that is your living room, and all that effort flushes down the drain.

"Look"—you find yourself sighing, turning to face the still-floating Mark as you address him with heavy eyes—"Mark, was it?"

In an instant, he lowers himself to your height, and now that there's no goggles in the way anymore, you witness the true extent of the way his eyes stare at you, wide, unwavering, like you're the only one they truly see.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow air. "...I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong girl. I've never seen or met you in my life. I don't even have a boyfriend."

At that, his shoulders fall, sagging in a way that has you biting your lip and half-contemplating taking it all back if it meant you'd get to see that look on his face again.

Wait... what?

"Right..." Mark starts, his solemn tone enough to pull you straight out of your thoughts. "Different dimension. My bad."

His words, though muttered, couldn't have been louder to your ears, and you raise your head in time with the rest of your friends, eyes wide and trained onto him.

"I'm sorry..."

He glances up at your voice.

"...Did you just say 'different dimension'?"

TAGLIST: @silas-222, @bloofairyfox, @wiseavenuelove, @inkycapps, @velovicy, @mmentallyelsewhere, @verysynical, @1abi, @bluepartywobblernickel

[fuckitupfelix]

Hear me out,

A soft spoken hero reader. He's mainly for damage control and healing. He is well liked by the public and even gets cutesy nick names and edits on the internet.

And jealous Mark, who's slightly possessive over reader. But it never goes beyond thoughts because the reader is his own person.

But the variants obviously have to have different thought processes and morals. It would be interesting to see how they react to this universes version of reader.

(You can choose the variant(s) because I really suck ass at remembering their names.)

never letting you go.

invincible x male reader

chars: full mask, no goggles, mohawk, sinister mark variants

warnings: canon compliant violence + mild suggestiveness (no goggles, mohawk, sinister) + straight up cannibalism ? (sinister)

mainstream mark has liked you for a while. the two of you have grown close during his time as invincible— mainly due to him absolutely wrecking himself every time he fights and you're the one healing him— but he's grown fond of you over time. you both like seance dog, even though it took him months to squirrel that information out of you; you're always so quiet, so soft-spoken and nervous and shy. but now he knows you better, and you've warmed up to him.

you jokingly scold him more when he comes to you for stupid little injuries, and you send each other memes and edits that you find of your hero personas. he really cares about you, and he'd never want you getting hurt. thats one thing that never changes; even across universes.

full mask!mark

when he came during the invincible war, he had two people on his mind; debbie and you.

when he finds you he's absolutely pathetic

-> im talking practically on his knees, clutching at your waist, fingers digging into your sides (only slightly)

he was so convinced he'd lost you forever, but now that he finally had you back? oh he's never letting you go..

very gentle with you. he knows you aren't technically as fragile as a normal human, but compared to a viltrumite? you're like glass to him

used to HATE when you healed him because it fatigued you so much with how many injuries he bore

he lost you once. he's not losing you again.

you're out in the city, doing your best to help anyone that was unlucky enough to get caught up in the carnage. the amount of times you expected to pull out people and only got detached limbs made your stomach churn. you've been at it for a while when you notice mark descend next to you, his suit dripping with blood.

"mark...?" you murmur, eyes wide. without hesitation, your hands are on his shoulders, placing your forehead against his as you wait for your healing powers to work. a subtle but warm blue light envelops you both. "are you okay? you look... terrible."

he doesn't respond, instead leaning into your touch. he wraps his arms around your waist and lets his head dip into the crook of your neck. "god, its been so long..." he murmurs, lips ghosting over your neck. you tense up at his choice of words— this isn't your mark. fuck.

you stop your healing slowly, and try to gently peel yourself away from this.... imposter.... but his grip tightens on you almost immediately. "please, [name].. i can't believe its you." he almost whines into your neck, pressing soft kisses into it. "i know im not your mark, but let me bring you home with me. i'll keep you safe. I promise. i'll be a better boyfriend than your mark is."

"mark and I... we aren't..." you trail off, but he gets the hint, and immediately shoots up into the sky, cradling you flush against his chest.

"shhh, my love, it's okay," he murmurs, even though you hadn't made a sound. "i'll take care of you, i promise. you and mom are coming home with me. this time I'll keep you safe."

no goggles!mark

he's absolutely obsessed with you

in his universe, you used to heal him no matter how badly he got hurt

-> the healing process hurt equally as much at the actual fighting, your powers working overtime to set his broken fingers back into place and regrow adult teeth in a matter of minutes

-> yeah he got off to it. he would sometimes let himself get a little more beat up just to see you

stalked you back in his universe! he's got your daily schedule and mannerisms memorized, down to what mugs you prefer

you haven't even stepped foot out of the kitchen when mark comes in through that window with loose bolts— some things really don't change, even across dimensions. you hear the window creak, and you turn to see him there. you know this isn't your mark; his mask and suit are slightly different, but also his expression. he looked too.. calm. too cheerful.

"hey, mark," you murmur, your voice dying in your throat. there's a solid chance he's going to hurt you, you think. your grip on the counter behind you tightens. "what're you doing here?"

before you can blink, he's floating inches away from you, bringing his hands up to cup your face tenderly, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. he leans close, inhaling your smell; fresh laundry mixed with mild rosemary. just like his [name].

"hey, you," mark coos, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. he sounds too happy; too giddy. "missed ya sooo much, babes."

this isn't your mark. your mark is touchy, yes— but he knows his boundaries. his touches are arms thrown over shoulders, loose hugs, and light shoulder punches. not this. not tight squeezes on your shoulders, wet kisses across your face, or thighs rubbing against crotches. definitely not.

"we aren't dating," you whisper, gently curling your hand around the one holding your face, carefully peeling it away from you. mark snorts at that, and grasps the hair on the back of your head, gripping tightly. "sorry."

"well, in my universe, we are. isn't that good enough, [name]?" he giggles, and he pulls you so your lips crash against his, but its softer than you'd expect. it was almost sweet, if not for the intense grip on the back of your head. you bring your hands up to push against mark's chest. he chooses to ignore that, pressing you harder against the counter, forcing his tongue into your mouth and nibbling on your bottom lip.

"mark," you mumble against his lips, finally shoving him off of yourself, ignoring the little flip your stomach does. "i need to go help people."

"come on, i'd end up killing more people than you could save," he groans, letting his thumb trace over your bottom lip. "actually, I think you're saving more people staying with me here, dont'cha think? come onnnnn, [name]. don't you wanna keep all those people safe?"

mohawk!mark

hates how nice you are. like actually loathes it, and he tells you that

-> always talking about how you should be meaner, how you're a little pussy. his version of you doesn't take it to heart as much anymore

prob one of the few variants that won't be extra gentle with you because of your powers

-> "im not even being rough— you can just fix yourself later, stop bein' a crybaby."

definitely mocks you whenever you cry but licks the tears away anyways

he finds you when you're looking for your own mark. you tried calling him, texting him, asking cecil if he knew. nothing. then mark comes along, hovering over you with a nasty grin on his face. only... he's got the sides of his head shaved. of course you find a knockoff and not your actual mark..

you hold your hands up in a placating manner, as if you were dealing with a feral animal; you were, in a sense. except this was a more unpredictable situation.

"finallyyy," mark groans, floating down closer to you, arms crossed. "i was starting to think they didn't have you in this universe." he then pins you to the ground, his hands trailing and groping every inch of your body as he practically straddles you. "fuckin' missed this," he grins.

you tense up, and try to knee him in his crotch. he winces a little, spitting out a curse, and his thighs tighten around you. "come on, cutie, don't be a bitch," he scoffs, staring down at you. he grabs you hair, yanks your head up, and then proceeds to smash it down into the pavement. a strangled yell leaves your lips, your hands pawing pathetically at the pavement beneath you as a blue light circles around your shoulders. your head is throbbing, and you can feel a small sticky puddle forming under your head. you resist the urge to throw up.

"why're you.." you grit out weakly, hand grabbing at mark's thigh, nails digging into the flesh.

"awwwh, is little [nickname] tryna heal himself?" mark laughs, grabbing you by your throat and wrapping his hand tighter and tighter, pressing you down into the pavement. "you know only I can make you feel like this, yeah? i know you like it, so quit fucking struggling and be a good boy, hmm?" he coos, leaning down and messily smashing your lips together.

sinister!mark

uses you as his chewtoy. deadass

you're less of a romantic partner, more his property

-> if he's badly hurt and needs medical attention, he goes to you. if he needs sexual relief, he goes to you. if his teeth ache and he needs something to gnaw on, he goes to you.

keeps you close to him whenever he does anything; he can't have his property getting damaged, now can he?

finds you and your powers very interesting.. keeps you like a little science specimen

-> he talks down to you all the time, and he always expects an answer. nods or little noises won't cut it.

you're trying to help people, attempting to heal the people you just dug out of rubble. there was one more person you had to bring, but when you turn around, you see a floating figure clad in yellow and black, and wearing a cape. you've been at it for hours now; long enough to know this mark is fucking dangerous. even if he is anything like your mark, the chances of him being actually nice are.... pretty slim.

"ahhh. i was wondering when i'd find you. this is cute, trying to save all these people?" mark hums, hovering just in front of you. he smiles. its unnerving.

"mark. hi." you say, trying to keep your voice steady. you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. keeping your breathing consistent, you continue. "it's, uh, good to see you."

he doesn't bother acknowledging what you said. "you really think you can help these people? why?" he scoffs, and in an instant, he darts behind you. the warm blood splattered on your back processes faster than the screams. you turn around slowly. there he stood, atop the corpses of the civilians you had just struggled to save, his arm poking straight through a person's chest.

"m-mark—" your voice dies in your throat when mark turns to look at you. he hovers over, the metallic smell of blood filling your lungs. his feet finally touch the floor. he rolls his shoulders, muscles flexing.

"i told you. it's pointless. you're more useful for other things." he chuckles, his crimson-soaked hand squishing your cheeks together with one hand and grabbing you by the waist with the other . he tilts your head an uncomfortable amount, and bites down into your shoulder. he shoves your head into the crook of his neck to muffle your pained scream, but the sound still cuts clean through the silence. He moans at the taste of your blood, his teeth ripping off a chunk of your flesh. he runs his tongue over the newly formed crevice in your shoulder, lapping the blood up.

"go on. heal it." he says, digging his tongue into the wound. your hands dig into his back, clawing at the fabric of his cape and suit, your yells of pain barely muffled by his shoulder. you can feel your knees buckle underneath you, and your head feels heavy as you try and heal yourself. it's not working as fast as you'd hoped— you're long since exhausted from working for hours saving the now corpses behind you.

"god, are you even trying?" mark scoffs, and his hands dig into your side, fingers piercing the flesh by your ribcage. "come on, pet. you can do better than that," he sneers, dragging his nails down and through your skin.

the writing blurbs are so uneven im so sorry :< if you want me to do other variants lmk!! I might continue this with shiesty and viltrum mark at some point...

[michelle-is-writing]

Clothes Shopping, Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.6k~

I have never felt more award in a store. Looking around me, I find myself a bit weirded out by the store I'm currently in while waiting for Spencer. Mannequins dressed in fancy suits litter the male clothing store while shelves hold the same pairs of oxfords, each pair barely changing with the shades of black and brown they possess. The men at the front registers wear what the store advertises, and their posture is so straight and unchanging that they could be mannequins as well. When Spencer said he needed to shop for some new work clothes, this place wasn't exactly what came to mind.

"Spence, you almost finished?" I ask from behind the blue curtain of the changing stall. The clanking of a belt against the floor sounds through the dressing rooms before the constant thump of Spencer's jumping feet follows it. "Need any help?" I ask him with a smirk, gaining an odd and almost annoyed look from the worker at the changing room desk. These people are really stuck-up.

"I'm almost done, (Y/n)," I hear him say, his voice showing mild frustration. A little concerned, I pull back the curtain to see my husband having trouble getting his pants on, my eyes quickly catching the error in his ways.

"Spencer, honey," I state, walking into the small room with him and placing my hand on his shoulder. Spencer doesn't stop in his movements, however.

"It's okay, I got it," He assures me, making me smile and shake my head. I probably shouldn't be so amused at Spencer being so uncoordinated, but who wouldn't at least be a little tickled by their husband putting on his pants backward?

"Spencer, you really don't," I tell him, sliding my hands over his. He stops in his actions before looking up at me with pleading eyes. No matter what, he will never audibly ask for help, but the pitiful puppy eyes I get from him sells him out every time without fail.

"You kind of..." I begin, only to cover my mouth with a hand as I try to conceal my oncoming laughter. "You have them on backward," I quickly explain to him in a whisper, his eyes immediately shooting wide open before he turns in the mirror to see himself.

"Oh my God," He mutters, finally smiling in amusement. Turning back toward me, he sighs before looking down at the front of his pants that are technically the back. "That explains why this," He gestures to the middle seam line fighting for its life. "Felt weird."

Laughing again, I shake my head before handing him his original ones. "I think this is a sign," I note, gaining a quizzical look from Spencer as he begins to take off the pants.

"Why do you say that?" He asks, sliding the ugly pants off before putting on his original pair, meeting my eyes once he's pulling his zipper back up.

"Because these clothes," I start, gesturing to the area around me. "Are not you," I point out, earning a slight nod from Spencer. "You are sweater vests and black converse, not... tight-ass jackets with leather shoes that need more care than a small child."

He smiles at me before nodding in agreeance. "Rossi recommended the place," He explains, "I didn't say anything when we came in, but..." He leans in closer, beginning to whisper. "I hate everything I picked out."

Shaking my head, I stifle a laugh before gathering the unbought clothes together over my arm and hanging them up on the rack by the dressing room doorway. With Spencer back in his original clothes, we head out of the store, but not before gaining a few pointed glares from the mannequins at the front desk, of course. Hand in hand, we head across the mall to another clothing shop, one that I think will be better for us.

Last time I came here to the mall, I noticed the mannequins in the windows were wearing outfits that Spencer would wear - you know, clothes for a mid-century banker. Without hesitation, I went into the store and found a few things for him, to which I purchased and brought home. When I gave the sweaters to him, I didn't know if he liked them or not, but whenever I noticed he started to only wear the three jumpers I got him without switching back to the other ones he already owned, I knew he liked them.

"Go crazy," I tell him, gesturing to the men's clothes section. Watching as Spencer's eyes scan over the many shelves and racks of his type of clothing, I smile. "I'll be looking at the dresses," I inform him, pecking his cheek before heading over to the women's section.

A few minutes pass, leaving me to myself while Spencer fills his arms up with clothes he likes. I'm glad he's finding a lot of things he deems wearable and his style. He hasn't gone clothes shopping since he first joined the BAU, and even then, I was the one to find everything for him since most of it was from magazine catalogs sent through the mail. Now those clothes are so old and worn out that everything either has holes in them or the color has faded a few shades.

Only finding one dress and a pair of heels, I head back to the dressing rooms where Spencer's trying on his clothes. I knock on the wall beside his stall before pulling back the curtain and walking in. Spencer stands in the mirror, smiling proudly at himself and his new clothes. A dark brown wool coat sits on his shoulders while a black, soft-looking button-up lies beneath it followed by a matching pair of dark brown pants.

Turning toward me, he smiles with a light laugh that shows his happiness. His innocent smile is like that of a child's smile on Christmas. I guess finding clothes that he genuinely likes feels like a blessing to him, and for me, it truly is a blessing.

"Do you like it?" Spencer asks, making my smile turn into a grin. Walking forward, I adjust a few things before smoothing down the fabric of the blazer.

"I do," I tell him. "It looks very nice on you; it's sharp," Turning my eyes up to his, I furrow my eyebrows together. "This isn't all you found, right?" I ask him.

Turning toward to the chair beside the mirror, he points at the gigantic stack of clothes. "No, this just happens to be my favorite," He sheepishly admits, making me laugh. Kissing the handsome man, I rest my hand on his chest before looking back at the mirror.

"It looks nice on you," I repeat myself from earlier. "I hope you're getting it," I tell Spencer, his eyes going down to the dress over my arm as he nods.

"What did you find?" He asks. Smiling, I pull the dress from my arm and hold it up for him to see. "I like that," He notes. "You should try it on."

Agreeing with him, I begin to pull my shirt off as Spencer moves his news clothes onto his lap while sitting down in the armchair. Moving onto my pants, I unbutton my jeans and slide them down, giving Spencer a small show at the same time. Peering back at him, I see his eyes watching me intently while resting his chin on his hand.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask him with a smirk, his smile reappearing above his perched arm.

"I'll never stop loving my wife's amazing body," He answers proudly, making me blush. Four years of marriage, and he still manages to make me feel the same way I did when we were dating.

Pulling the dress over my head, I push it down the rest of my body and watch as it nicely conforms to my legs and waist. Grazing my hands over my clothed curves, I smile at my reflection in the mirror just as Spencer had done with his. The dress is long-sleeved and made of a black, silky material that clings and spans down to the space above my knee. The neckline is a little low too, showing the tops of my shoulders which makes it appear seductive, yet sweet. Sliding on the silver pumps only add to the seduction of the look, making me smile. It's not a bad look for me.

Turning my eyes to the new reflection behind me, I feel Spencer slide his arm around my waist before tugging me close to him. "You look..." He begins, his eyes lingering on his grasp on my hips in the mirror. "Absolutely gorgeous... and sexy."

Smiling even more now, I turn toward him fully and wrap my arms around his neck as he wraps his other arm around my waist to match the other. Looking back at the mirror with me, Spencer smiles. "We look like we're ready to jump back in time," he points out, making me giggle.

He's not too far off, we do look as if we're trying to recreate a picture of Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando, and I love it. What I don't love is the sweater that my eyes catch peeking out of Spencer's stack of clothes.

"Spence, honey, why'd you pick out a sweater with armadillos all over it?"

[edutainer2022]

I have part two in my, so technically it's a Wednesday WIP. Things take place some time after Hyperspeed. Scott is rather popular with all creatures large and nerds. Sometimes Earth has some insights to share about the Sky and celestial objects.

HELIOCENTRIC

He didn't look down from the sketchbook when a chestnut head hit his thigh as a lanky figure folded itself on the sand next to him, by the edge of the small palm grove. An exasperated grunt and an oomf followed. Virgil knew better than to ask. Partly because John had already clued him in, in broad strokes. Partly because he was engrossed in a particularly intricate shading. But mostly because if Scott had hunted him down on the beach, having barely parked Thunderbirds One after the trip to CERN, he would talk. Or maybe not. Either way, if Scott needed comfortable company and a friendly ear - Virgil was both. There was no need for extra prying. Not that time, anyway.

"Brains hates me!"

"No, he doesn't."

Virgil response was as automatic as it was nonchalant. It went without saying - Brains deeply appreciated and admired Scott. Just like all of them.

A powerful huff from the general vicinity of the ground ruffled the edge of the page. Virgil glanced down only to be faced with brilliant blue, welling with desperation. If he didn't abhor the idea of biggest brother in any sort of distress, he would find the whole situation highly amusing.

"Well, he's mad at me, at least! He was so eager to meet Tycho Reeves in person - IR was his moment to shine! Now he thinks I stole his thunder!"

The painful grimace that followed the diatribe was so full of misery, Virgil finally put away the sketchbook and reached to ruffle dark brown curls.

Dr. Tycho Reeves had professed undying friendship with one Scott Tracy after the Hyper-reel misadventure - and did so urbi et orbi. Definitely to the latter's equal befuddlement. From what Virgil gleaned out of John's quick heads up - the Tracy Industries visit to Dr. Reeve's lab in New Geneva earlier that day was met with excitement and enthusiasm that resulted in some significant damage to reasonably good china, a coffemaker, a suit that could bankroll the economy of a medium-size country, several holodiscs of cutting edge equipment blueprints, brought in for consult. And Brains' pride, apparently.

Virgil peered down again at his brother's face, still contorted by a frown. His other hand joined the task force and administered an obviously needed reassuring shoulder squeeze.

"So, you did the thing. Big deal! Brains won't hold a grudge!"

Confusion darkened the edges of the blue.

"The thing?"

"Your thing. The Scott thing. You are the gravity center of every gathering in every room you're ever in. Or a light source, more like!"

Virgil smiled at his own metaphor. He definitely liked that idea more.

"Yep, that's right! You're the sun, Scooter. We all orbit you."

If he hoped to lighten the mood and put biggest brother's mind at ease - that wasn't the achieved effect. Dark brows furrowed even more. Scott even lifted his head from the comfy, jeans clad cushion, and nearly yelled:

"That's not true!"

Virgil was beginning to feel entertained.

"Oh, yes it is! Everyone gets under the spell one way or another, Scoots. That's just the way it is!"

Virgil's large palm gave the now disheveled brunet head a pointed push back on its perch on the brother's thigh and added a soothing rake through the curls to boot. A quieter protest followed.

"I don't want that!"

Virgil hummed, fully amused now.

"Well, tough! You're just THAT awesome, brother."

The almost whisper that chased Virgil's cheeky comment switched him on high alert again. Trust Scotty to find ever more fault with himself.

"Dad was the sun. I'm not."

[I'm not him.]

He had a good hunch Scott would genuinely believe that, but it hurt just as well to see up close how little biggest brother thought of himself. Virgil gave it a pause, then made sure to catch the blue gaze, now deepened by ever ready rue.

"No. He wasn't. Dad was thunder and lightning. Mom was the light. Then you."

He stopped the depreciating shake of the head with a flex of his wrist, before it could gain momentum.

"You really don't get it, do you? You were Dad's light! You cheered him on and you supported his every endeavor, you stood by him and you made him believe he could do anything! Even after Mom. Even after TV-21. And you're ours! You let us flourish and you champion the best selves we could ever be!"

He had to gulp down what had to follow next - "and you gave up everything to burn yourself for us all!"

Bright wide-eyed blue, staring up at him, was brilliant with disbelief and barely contained tears. So Virgil didn't hesitate to shift operations into the territory he knew best how to navigate - with a tug on the sleeve he enveloped big brother into a tight hug.

TBC

[bambiraptorx]

I keep forgetting to post my iteration art so here goes lol

[I.D. Drawing of a personal iteration version of Krang. They are a goopy bipedal person colored in various shades of pink. Their limbs and face have a melted appearance, and little definition. They have narrow eyes with blue sclera, and a somewhat annoyed expression. End I.D.]

Here's roughly what Krang's "true" form looks like, as much as they can have a true form given that they're a shapeshifting alien blob of flesh-goop lol. Technically they can go full blob and have no limbs, but they do tend to prefer a vaguely humanoid form if they have to be around people.

[I.D. 2. Sketch page of Krang's human form. The first image has two sketches of his face and one of his body. He is the same fleshy pink as before, but this time his features are much more defined and humanoid, with sharp, exaggerated features, strong cheekbones, and a bumpy nose. The first bust shows him frowning severely, while the second shows him smirking. The second is drawn without ears with the note "regularly forgets ears" next to it. Below them is a sketch of Krang from about knees up, one hand on their him and the other in a fist by their side. They are very muscular and broad-shouldered, their physique exaggerated. They frown slightly. End I.D. 2]

And here's some sketches of Krang's human disguise/form, plus their villain suit. Much more defined and humanoid. That said they do occasionally forget elements of human faces, like the ears. The human form is actually fairly hard for Krang to maintain, as it takes a lot of conscious effort. Even so they spend a lot of time in this form.

[I.D. 3. Two variations of Krang's villain suit, one with purple highlights and the other with red. In both, they stand with one fist against their hip and the other by their side. In both, the costume has a grey torso and legs, with the neck and arms being black. It has grey gauntlets with silver spikes on the elbows, and silver pockets on the thighs. It has a logo on the chest shaped like a symmetrical, three-toed foot. It also has a helmet that covers the entire head, black lenses covering the eyes. It has silver fangs over the mouth, and a three-pointed silver prong over the eyes with smaller decorative kites shapes between the main prongs. In the first image the helmet and foot logo are purple, and in the second they are red. End I.D. 3]

Might end up tweaking the suit over time because it doesn't fully scream "villain outfit" to me? Idk might be overthinking I do that. Also I'm still going back and forth on whether Krang is the Shredder or the two are separate characters, so that's also going to affect the design I think. Anyway, the suit is designed to help Krang hold its human form for longer periods of time.

[icanexplainwhythisnameisbad]

Secrets of the Mimic

well I’ve finally wrapped my mind around most of the details in secret of the mimic

spoilers for those who haven’t seen the game yet

edit: half of this is details from the game itself & the other half are my thoughts I kinda trailed off the further I typed. you’ve been warned.

-Edwin was a heavily flawed guy but I kinda sympathize with him. sure he attacked the mimic but it was out of anger and grief, after all wouldn’t YOU attack someone (or atleast scream at them) you thought was mocking a dead loved one? -the mimic’s design was cool (no idea how it went from that into what it became in Ruin )

-Several of the SecurityBreach Animatronics (and a bunch of other characters like chica & music man) came from Murray’s costume Manor Roxy, Monty, Sun (technically), Moon & DJ Music Man (via Big Top who became music man and went back to his, until now unseen, roots as DJ Music Man )

-the Cupcake had legs (& friends-)

-David was also copied into a program and can be used to fix the mimic (which some people interpreted as David having always possessed the mimic and started ranting about how abusive Edwin was (like he somehow knew that and still “intentionally” attacked the mimic ) (sadly not the canon ending (unless David grew to like mimicking & murdering ) )

-just my opinion but I love the “main mascots” (Jackie, Big Top Dollie, (the currently without a prefix variant of) Chica & Tiger Rock (or whatever the Blue & Green eyed White Tiger is called ) (mainly Jackie, Bigtop & Dollie though the other 2 are okay but 1s just a lore relevant variant that mechanically is just another mascot suit instead of having any semblance of a personality (sure big top is a music man counterpart but it has a microscopic bit of a personality with its 1 voice line) like the previous 3 & tiger rock is just the mimic’s fursona (and it spouts lines Edwin & others said in David’s voice so it’s also just a costume the mimic seems to like instead of an actual character) )

-I wonder if any of these mascots will show up later in the series (I mean I doubt it since this game (as far as I’m aware) takes place before every other game and while Big Top is another Music Man seeing Jackie & Dollie in the modern day in universe would be cool

-this kinda went from me talking about actual info I found out to my opinions at this point… 🤷🤷🤷

-it’d be cool if we could see some of the places MCM sold things to

or in general a game where you go to multiple locations/attractions within one game (no not like security breach. you ever heard of the cancelled fangame aftonbuilt? Something like that)

-based on a specific line down one specific ending route the mimic stuffed the corpses into specific costumes it deemed fitting for them

-I also love how the game takes the best elements from both the original games & the steel wool games

huge areas & tons of collectibles combined with claustrophobic and dimly lit areas with a decently sized roster of murder bots

overall it’s a really good game (the only bugs I ever saw was a floating mannequin & a bouncy chain I saw in a playthrough video but that’s irrelevant )

10/10

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 37

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Fade to Black by @yokohogawa

Things between Keith and Lance are changing but Keith is restless, especially with Shiro still weak, and ends up taking a bad decision: he leaves Lance alone in the Castle with a Lion he cannot pilot. Unable to form Voltron without the newly appointed Red Paladin, the four Paladins left struggle against the sudden attack of a Galra ship and later on take damage from the explosion of a star in close proximity. Lance, on the other end, is left to defend the Castle by himself and has little time to succeed: without energy, the Lions have only 6 hours of breathable air. Beyond that point, his friends will be dead.

okay yes technically this series is unfinished. HOWEVER the first two works ARE finished, and they are amazing showstopping incredible etc. tbh im not much of a black paladin lance fan, i genuinely think solo leadership is not what he is suited for, but this fic made me way more open to it. the way he handled severe crises was as fear stricken as it was awe inspiring highly recommend

2. once again i am a child by @lilaclavenders

“You’re not a spare tyre,” Adam interjects.  “I know that,” Lance says, too unsure to sound completely defensive.   “That almost sounded like a question.” “No... it didn’t,” Lance says.

Lance and Adam talk.

i have always been a fan of lance and adam even tho its the most evidence lacking fanon thing in this fandom. its truly just so interesting. and to have lance as a young cadet getting slammed so badly just in so many different directions being given at least one grownup in his corner...its a good read.

3. Lance the language man by @irish-vampire-blog

Lance didn't really try to learn a language. He just, kind of, picks up the basics and then works from there. Its usually unintentional. Ish.

He isn't stupid though. He isn't an idiot. He just isn't the same kind of smart as his friends are.

this kind of smart for lance is so REAL bc no he cannot do like quantum physics or whatever probably but the way he seems to have a pretty innate ability to successfully do many things that he tries. he just can u know?? thats the autism with the gay audacity i would imagine but i love seeing fics like this

4. my boyfriend's back (and you're gonna get in trouble) by teacupfulofbrains

hey la, hey la, my boyfriend's back

Keith Kogane has never heard of Vine. Lance McClain takes personal offense to this, and makes it his personal mission to teach his boyfriend to meme. Keith is confused, mostly.

(OR: several instances of Keith not getting the meme™ and two times he did)

I LOVE THIS FIC SO BAD I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT RECCED IT BEFORE. yes i am a cringe zillenial who still finds vine funny and quotes it on the internet but truly idc idc. this fic is funny. this fic is cute. established klance my love and light. also keith comparing lances eyes to the star of bombay is some of the gayest shit ever and also the only time i will entertain blue eyed lance

5. The Most Dangerous Thing is to Love by running_downn

Last time something like this happened to Lance, Keith wasn’t there. He’d thought he would have been able to do something if he had been there, or at least if he was, the guilt wouldn’t be so heavy on his chest. But this time he was there. He was right fucking there and he decided that it was infinitly worse.

~

Basically there's a new threat after the Galra and it almost kills Lance. Desperate making out ensues, but it's okay to recognize when it's not the right time for it. Keith cries a lot cause he's older and grizzled and therefore not as emotionally stunted.

green sock reality? team still out fighting as adults and lance isn’t a fucking farmer while the rest of the team isn’t? keith’s abandonment issues treated with respect and dignity and also the acknowledgement that he’s older and therefore mature enough to handle those issues in a way that doesn’t risk a relationship that is important to him? lance understanding all this and using the supportive nature he is known for??? yes yes yes. stellar fic that should have way more hits than it does

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hey I was just wondering if you could do a tadc x reader who dies their hair very often? like every month or so they dye it a different color and no one knows what color it'll be next

TADC cast x reader who dyes their hair a lot!

UEUEUEUUEU hope this is okay! i must admit i was a little uwuwuawua on ideas for a lot of the characters </3 grr finding new songs to play on loop to get me into writing is hard; though currently antonymph by vylet pony is doing things to my brain

CAINE:

makes a huge deal of things whenever you dye your hair simply because he thinks what you do with yourself is cool; and since its the digital world you can get away with dying your hair as often as you want! cant damage what technically isnt real! probably makes hair color suggestions and is absolutely thrilled when you actually follow through within the coming days. prepare to have some weird combos, though... probably changes the color of his suit to match your hair... even adds stripes if your hair has stripes, or any other pattern dyed into it

POMNI:

honestly? more power to you, thats her reaction mostly. would pomni dye her own hair, or otherwise get anything to modify her appearance? probably not... but she thinks you look great with it... probably asks why you chose the current color you went with, as well as asking whenever you change. nothing like "oh WHY? why THAT color?" but like genuine non-rude curiosity... doesnt like outwardly betting or wondering what color youre going to pick outloud since she doesnt want you to think shes rude or something

RAGATHA:

has probably made multiple color variations of accessories she has made for you so you can wear anything without having the colors clash... thinks your hair is pretty, me thinks! doesnt matter what color it is, could literally be the unpleasant green-pink-brown color gradient meme and she would still find something nice to say about it... does sometimes wonder what color youre going to choose next... probably has a hush hush bet going on between her jax and zooble on what color youre going to choose next... huh what no jax didnt just get all moody because you walked in with aqua blue hair- no hes not passing something to ragatha, what are you talking about?

JAX:

as mentioned above he makes bets with some of the other circus members on what color youre going to rock next... if you ask him for any suggestions on what color you should change to next, dont expect any serious answers. even if he is being serious, jax doesnt strike me as the type to care much about colors and shades so hes probably going to drop the most basic colors. ..

"purple."

"what KIND of purple? light? dark? pastel? reddish or bluish?

"purple."

stuff like that, i think! probably fiddles with your hair, especially if you dye your tips a different color... jax fidget headcannon strikes again

KINGER:

on a bad day he might just not recognize you for a short moment... i originally said that as a joke but considering he sometimes forgets gangle is literally standing right next to him, i dont... think thats much of a joke... but after the initial confusion, i think he would really like whatever color you choose! likes playing with your hair, if you let him! he finds it soothing in its own way, and now he just has pretty colors to look at! cant explain why but i feel like he would be very good at identifying colors, so if you come in rocking some new color hes going to ask if its (insert specific shade of red that no one knows the name of. like. amaranth red.. or something..)

ZOOBLE:

honestly, they get it! i like to think that they swap out their pieces in order to fit whatever look or vibe they want for the day; aaaand i personally hc that in the real world they would dye their hair and get a bunch of piercings! though, they dont really remember much stuff from the real world, at least not clearly... but the point still stands, you guys probably get together to make a new look together! though, on days where they dont give any input on what hair color you choose next, theyre making bets with jax and ragatha... dont know why but i think zooble wins the most in the bets... shrugs

GANGLE:

oh she thinks its so pretty! has probably always loved things like that, since its a form of self expression! and she can kind of relate to that since shes an artist, albeit her medium is paper rather than her body... thinks... probably gives shy recommendations for colors if you ask her, is also bad at masking (lol) her surprise when you actually take her idea into consideration and follow through with it... makes her feel some type of way that someone cares enough about her ideas that they literally apply it to their appearance, you know?

[stopthatfool]

You said don't get you started on Ice's helmet or you'll be mean... please be mean. Please be mean to him. What is so disastrous about his helmet design?

my time has come. i will be mean to him. (thank you for getting me started on this. it bothers me every time I watch top gun.) this is also gonna be so long. yippee!

stopthatfool's issues with Tom "Iceman" Kazansky's helmet! aka this bad boy right below. (I'm sorry if anyone loves Ice's helmet, it's just not for me)

The placement of his name. WHY is it on the side? Both him and Slider have their names on the side. That makes me think it's a squadron thing? (the VF-213s) but regardless i don't care cuz i think it's stupid. (again sorry if someone thinks its genius. ok i'll stop apologizing)

My biggest issue with the fact it's on the side is that it creates this uneven weight distribution. The side with his name feels considerably "heavier" than the side without.

And the thing i don't understand is that Ice's name is evenly numbered!! He could fit 3 letters on either side of the line that comes down the helmet! the letters wouldn't be unevenly distributed, so I don't know why he felt the need to put it there!!

Here, I have "annotated" his helmet and provided other viewpoints of his helmet!

The font/typeface! Ice.. is that ARIAL?? and it's not even bolded??? so not only is his name to one side and weirdly small... it's skinny and unbolded. (like you're THE Iceman. Don't you want your name big and bolded? I shouldn't be searching for your name when you're Mr. Iceman!)

Looking at his helmet head-on, part of his name isn't even visible.. like ok ICEM!

And then! There's this weird switch up in the shapes and line types that he used-- the angular and sharp points of the lightning bolts and the half circles surrounding the squadron logo (is it a logo?? idk im gonna call it a logo)

What i think Ice is trying to do here is create a "connection" between the circular part of the logo and the lightning bolts as the bolts go all the way to the back of the helmet... but in my opinion... it's not working. like at all.

The comparison between the harsh lines of the bolts and then the curves is just kind of hard on the eyes (for me anyway). I just don't know where to look. Should i be following the leading lines of the lightning bolts? Or the curves of the half-circle things? Or should I be following the line of the lightning bolt in the logo?

And all throughout that... i barely end up seeing the name on the helmet.

Continuing off the logo... for Top Gun 1986, Ice and Slider are in the VF-213 squadron, but the movie switched the logo to the VFA-25s that looks like this on their flight suits-

(yes that is the best quality image i could find from the movie my bad) So why does the logo on his helmet look like this???

WHY do the fingers look like that. they look like hotdogs im so sorry. (logistically it was probably easier for the decals to be printed and then applied like this. but. we're not talking about technicalities here. right now i'm tearing apart the entire composition of Ice's helmet.)

I like version of the logo on their flight suits soooo much better! It's got more "rhythm" and flow to it that the lightning bolts lack! Plus no hotdog fingers.

Ok ok, now on the colour scheme. The harsh and bright blues I don't mind. Like yeah, you're The Iceman, punch me in the face with blue. I can forgive that. The thing that really bothers me.. is the silver/grey base of the helmet.

It's this really harsh grey that really doesn't help with the already harsh blues. I think he should've continued with the blue he has going. cuz this grey ain't working, king.

Ok, anyway. Since I should be studying, I'm obviously doing anything but studying. So i redesigned ice's helmet. ya idk.

it's kind of wonky.. but whatevs (ignore how the lightning bolt on the side view doesn't line up with the front view) (and ignore the inconsistences in the lettering. i was lazy and did it by hand)

I also didn't want to completely change/get rid of the aspects of Ice's helmet. So the changes aren't huge (except for maybe the name placement/"font")

ok I changed the background colour (finally, it's less all up in your face now) I continued with the blues and lessened the intensity just a little bit. I really wanted his name to be front and center!

Now the colour scheme is also consistent. No random black lettering (again, in arial???) there's now black in both his name, the outline of the lightning bolts and the logo!

Now his name is evenly distributed! See how it fits on either side of the line that comes down the center of the helmets from '86? See how you can actually see his whole name? See how it's heavier and fits the whole "iceman" theme better? (at least in my opinion)

Come on, Ice! You should've used the leading lines provided by the lightning bolts to guide people to your name! There's now a fun little overlapping moment!

(ignore how i forgot to dot one of the i's in distribution whoops)

No more weird half circle things! No more conflicting leading lines! But! I decided to extend the arm of the squadron logo to continue the line of the lightning bolt as it moves backward. I think this makes the circle of the logo fit better, while simultaneously creating that "connection" he was trying to get in his actual design.

The lack of half-circle things also allow for the logo and lightning bolts to just "be." There's no distraction. it's not overly "busy" anymore (like maverick's helmet). It's simple, but he's The Iceman! He doesn't need it to say/have more!

And the use of the "actual" logo seen on Slider and Ice's flight suits creates that sense of movement that was absent before! Plus no hotdog hands!

Is this new proposed design perfect? Absolutely not! The logo and the lightning bolts still create a weird point of almost intersection that still bothers me. But I think fundamentally, there's always going to be issues with these two components: the circle will never quite fit in, and the lightning bolt the hand is holding will always "cut" the whole thing in half, creating a weird separation in the helmet, that will always bother me.

Anyway, this was a lot of fun! (I love being mean to these guys. they need their egos brought down a couple pegs!)

[surrealisticduvet]

Album Review: Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash (1973)

I’d like to start this review with another excerpt from liner notes - please indulge me. It will become relevant in a few paragraphs. 

“Mine has been built on logic, which is probably one of the subtlest traps going... that whole 2+2 trip... the logical development that leads to fear of anything outside itself... ... Music was always the gum in those works... All that thinking went to hell when the music came. I'd be sitting around, immersed in this bubble-bath serenity of having figured something out... put right into its nice little orderly spot, and then - WHAMO - I've got to deal with music... no reason... no basis other than just its purest expression…”

Pretty Much Your Standard Ranch Stash (the one where he’s doing the George Harrison wink on the cover, next to the words “Buy This Record / Compact Disc”) was the last album for Michael’s RCA contract, and it did about as well as the first five did (guess the subliminal messaging didn't work...) What makes this record stand out from the others is that it was recorded with a group of artists from his own Countryside label - which was somewhat by chance in terms of the timing - as opposed to with a dedicated band, or in a duo.

(pretty much your standard rambly review... below the cut!)

Favorite parts of the album:

I think recording with the Countryside group was a great call and very fortunate - the musicality of this record is really iconic, and if you weren’t familiar with the track listing, you could still instantly pick out these songs as parts of the Ranch Stash sound. It’s made up of a rather simple but effective steely guitar strum, in uncomplicated keys, and it suits the songs on this record perfectly. This is not his most technically complicated, his most ambitious, or his most poetic album – but it does have a fantastic, self-sufficient sound, and if I wanted to put on something of his to listen to casually without having to worry about lyrics or themes, I might reach for this one. Another quote from the liner notes:

“The music was just the music. Not really earthshattering, mind- blowing, brilliant... none of that. Just music. This whole album was one of those conversations me and the music had. Don't get fooled by the lyrics... Lyrics aren't really the communicative part... Lyrics are just the logical part for people who are into that…”

The lyrics on this album are good, albeit a little simple at times. There’s nothing really experimental here, except for “The Back Porch and a Fruit Jar Full of Iced Tea” and the words (a medley of a poem and a song written by someone else) are not what makes it a fantastic song – it is the music and presentation. 

Other hits from the record (well, to me – not to the charts) include “Some of Shelly’s Blues," a well-deserved staple for live performances, and “Prairie Lullaby,” where he sweetly yodels a loved one to sleep. There’s an alternate version of “Marie’s Theme” on the extended release as well, which is pretty good if you’re not up for the cinematically trailing original edition on The Prison. “Born to Love You” is perennial, albeit simple, and “Winonah” is apparently hailed by critics as one of his most true-to-form country-style songs, although it’s rather low on my own personal favorites list.

Critiques:

Only three and a half of the seven songs were written by Michael (he co-wrote “Winonah”), although I suppose at exactly 50% that’s not bad, but it feels less substantial than usual. His line about the lyrics being set by the wayside for this one does kind of ring true. 

Conclusion:

Can I first of all just say, it is amazing that his records so far are so highly rated – rateyourmusic is certainly NOT the end-all-be-all of music journalism, and the ratings are highly subjective (but it's where I'm at, lol) -- but for a secondary-career solo artist’s first six albums to average at over 3.5/5 stars is very impressive, in my opinion. I really can’t say enough how good and inspired I think his music is. That being said- 

With Ranch Stash, I think he was really nearing a point where he needed to try something new and invigorating, and he certainly achieved that (spoiler) on his next record-slash-project. He was branching out into many directions, struggling with some personal things, and not doing great financially – I don’t want to say that this album suffered because of any of this, but it makes sense why it didn’t try to be more ambitious. It “kept it simple, stupid” in a very modest and effective way, and it’s still great to listen to. In fact I’m very glad that he had a set of studio musicians who could support him in this way, which is something he always longed for. He seemed self-aware of these external influences and, once again with those liner notes, sort of sums up the philosophy behind the album with this:

“And if I come to a fork in the road, I don't panic anymore, I just assume that one is the road and the other is a road off to the side.”

[blush-and-books]

oh wait i do have another technical suits question for you lol

this has been bothering me since i watched it. okay so in faith 5x10 they’re both in this like, angelic pristine dare i say virginal white . and like him i get okay its about him being a child and his childlike innocence but HER?? why is she in white theres gotta be a reason—like is it the fact they’re the same person? is she somehow Innocent of the crime of destroying the family? but also shouldn’t it be about Corruption?? like she was guilty of infidelity and it took his childhood away?? i dont get it why are they both in white i cant figure it out!!

okay i don't think this is the response you wanted but it's the response i have formed now that I rewatched the scene!!!!

you're asking about them both wearing white but when i rewatched it i found it impossible to analyze the white without the context of the blue. blue and white are the two most prominent colors of this scene, not just in costuming, but the whole household - the foyer is blue, the front door is blue, the couches in the living room are blue; the kitchen is white, the rest of the living room is white, the outside of the house is white.

after harvey catches lily with bobby, he runs down the stairs into the blue foyer and actively runs OUT of the foyer and into the living room. then he storms back through the foyer into the white kitchen, and finally one last time so that he can get outside. he makes a conscious effort to NOT be in the blue, because the blue seems to equate bobby (blue shirt and just standing in the blue foyer after coming down the stairs).

lily is all over the place - she's the mediator between the blue and the white, her and harvey are matching in costume color (both wearing white indicating a family tie) but she remains in the blue foyer or in doorways to the foyer most of the scene. when harvey stands in the living room, she stands just outside of it. when harvey is in the kitchen about to call his dad, she stands in the doorway and keeps him from doing so.

could they have used literally any other color? yeah probably lmao. but like you said, white representing purity is actually very important to this too bc she's wearing white as a costume of purity and family to match harvey even if it is ingenuine.

wowww if my professors could see me now!! also thank you so much for this ask i literally love this so much <333333

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Eleven: Don't be Weird

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

[A/N] I've finished writing this fic, yay! It's 23 chapters and an epilogue. I have no idea how it ended up being that long but I had fun with it. Also, heads up, I got even more lost in the angst sauce towards the end. How bad it gets, I'm not a great person to ask because my perspective on such things is skewed (I read and write super heavy stuff fairly often and it's pretty light compared to some of that but certainly heavier than where this fic is now). If I remember, I'll put a proper content warning at the top of chapter that has the worst of it. Despite that, this fic remains, technically the funniest fic I've ever written solely because it contains the most funny moments (the rest of my funny stuff is short drabbles and one shots) so that's cool.

~

Behind every door was a dead end. Sometimes just cold concrete, other times the walls were made of rotting flesh. It twitched and burbled as something started to rise out of it. Gordon slammed the door and continued on. Overhead the light before him flickered on while the light behind went out with a small pop as the bulb shattered.

Gordon’s friends… traveling companions had gone on ahead while he’d slept. He was weak like that so they’d left him. Surely he would catch up soon. They’d be behind one of the doors or further down the hall. Keep going and he’d find them.

The next door hid behind it a blank room with a health station at the far end. A flickering light shined down on it from an unseen ceiling. He walked towards it, the door closing behind him with a bang. It was locked, leaving him no choice but to continue forward.

A few steps away from the health station, the unseen light bulb burst with a flash and a loud pop, sending shards of glass raining down around him. Darkness rushed in, engulfing him in its thick oily presence. Hands came with it, grasping him, beating him, pulling him down to floor. Whatever they belonged to was dead and rotting; the stench of it filled his nose and mouth, choking him, suffocating him.

Struggle was futile. He tried anyway as he was pulled down and down until until he was partially submerged into the cold concrete floor itself. A hand, its flesh partially sloughing off its bones, grabbed his wrist, yanking it out. He screamed and struggled harder. No one cared. Why would they? He didn’t even have the HEV suit this time, making it all the easier for the saw to…

“Wakey-wakey.” One of the hands was on his shoulder, slightly shaking him. “Time to rise and shine.”

Gordon jerked away, snapping his gun hand up. The instant before he squeezed his ‘hand’ to fire though he stopped. Even in the darkness without his glasses, the sharp yellow of Benrey’s new eyes marked the figure looking down at Gordon as him.

“Yo, you said to wake you if you looked like you was having a bad dream so… I did.”

Gordon’s heart hammered in his chest as he panted for breath. His arm was still tense, moments away from firing the gun. He needed to calm down and relax. Gunshots in the middle of the night would call attention they really didn’t need on them right now. Trying to take a deep breath didn’t work though. The air was still thick and heavy and oh gosh, he was gonna…

Benrey sang a familiar pretty tone, snapping Gordon’s eyes back onto him. Soft blue light rode the sound. Aimed directly at Gordon’s face, he breathed it in, flooding his mouth with the sweet taste of blue raspberry, erasing any lingering trace of rot from his dream. His whole body shuddered a little as the tension was forced out of it, leaving him able to catch his breath finally.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling more onto his back as the sound ended. “How does uh… how does your sweet voice work exactly? If that’s okay to ask.”

“I don’t know. They gave it to me as an experiment, never really bothered to explain anything ‘bout it and I don’t really care.”

Gordon could ask for more information, wanted to but… he didn’t want to bring up a potentially painful subject. Instead he sat up and looked towards the clock. … It was too blurry for him to read. “What time is it?”

Benrey turned his head to look too. “Uh… 3:36am.”

Damn, way too early. He’d barely slept at all. Maybe he’d have more luck if he waited until sunrise to try for another nap. In the meantime… “Well, I tried sleeping so uh… wanna play something?”

“Nah, bro, you need sleep. Coomer says you’re supposed to sleep uh…” Benrey paused as he pulled out his phone, presumably to check his texts, “seven to eight hours and it’s not even been half that so… not enough.”

“So you went to Dr. Coomer for info, huh?” Since when had Benrey cared enough to even think about such things, let alone go to the trouble of learning more?

“Yeah. Apparently you can die if you don’t sleep enough. And uh… for you, you said that’d be permanent which would be a bummer.”

“Ah, okay, I get it. You can’t have me die until after I buy you that Play Station 3 I promised, right?” And he seemed to largely be a social gamer so he liked having Gordon around to play with since they seemed to be into a lot of the same types of games. So it was most likely more a matter of Benrey being concerned about possibly losing entertainment opportunities than actually caring much about Gordon’s health or well-being.

The look Benrey gave him was utterly unreadable without his glasses and the only light in the room coming through the crack leading to the hall, but it was certainly some kind of look. “Just uh… go back to sleep, bro.”

Gordon scoffed as he slid over to grab his glasses and put them on before standing. “Nah, can’t after that. I’m too uh… wound up. But don’t worry ‘bout me dying of sleep deprivation, ‘kay? That takes a lot of not sleeping… though I guess accidents related to sleep deprivation are fairly common. I’ll be careful and won’t drive or whatever tomorrow until I’ve had another nap or something.”

Benrey was silent, his gaze heavy on Gordon as he stretched and paced a little, trying to work out the last of the post nightmare jitters. The blue sweet voice had helped a lot, it was amazing. It didn’t erase the memory of the dream though and did nothing to ease the bone-deep exhaustion that seemed more and more like it might become just a normal part of Gordon’s life now.

He wasn’t alone though. Benrey wasn’t just a voice on the phone this time but physically here with him, making his presence all the better. Their friendship could work like this. Gordon used him to calm down after nightmares and for company and Benrey used him for entertainment and video games. Maybe not the fairest exchange in the world but when one didn’t have many friends, one should take what they could get. Bubby had betrayed him, Dr. Coomer had tried to kill him once too, and heck, even Tommy hadn’t exactly tried to help him after he’d been jumped. So Gordon was no stranger to being desperate for companionship to the point of being willing to overlook things others would likely end friendships over.

The darkness, not being conducive to one contemplating staying up the rest of the night until sunrise, Gordon made his way over to the light switch. Before he hit it though…

“What if… what if I help you fall back asleep?”

Gordon turned to face Benrey, still standing next to the bed. With his glasses on now it was obvious that his eyes were glowing ever so slightly. Some kind of night vision thing or something he was doing because he thought it cool or whatever? But more curious than that was his offer. “What do you mean?”

Benrey didn’t reply, just kept looking at him.

“You got a sweet voice that can put people sleep? Or maybe just more of the blue might help but…” Even if being too keyed up to relax was the main thing making sleep feel far away despite his exhaustion, the fear of descending right back into that dream made him reluctant to try.

“Nah, in the Black Mesa facility, the uh… the first night you spent back there when I was there too, when I went to your room I was just gonna lie next to you for a bit. But you were all tense and mumbling and stuff, having a nightmare. I was gonna wake you but then you just kinda… grabbed me and hugged me. You’re warm, it was nice and you relaxed so… I stayed. Didn’t seem to have a bad dream after that so maybe uh… we could try that.”

Oh. Gordon vaguely remembered having woken with the vague sense of having had a nightmare but it was so gone form his mind by now that’s all he recalled. Not at all like the vivid dreams he’d been having. Perhaps nightmares that centered or at least heavily featured being alone were a bit harder to have when holding someone and being held. “You’re offering to cuddle me back to sleep?”

“Mm-hmm. It was nice and it’s kinda cold. Just don’t be weird about it.”

Gordon almost laughed. Normally it was Benrey making things weird. But well, he was tired and he’d had the thought of cuddling before going to bed before dismissing it as stupid. It was kind of cold in here though so if Benrey wanted to do it to warm up in addition to helping make sure his ticket to getting a PS3 didn’t die of a sleep deprivation related accident before fulfilling that promise, who was he to say ‘no’? So… “Uh… I guess it’s maybe worth a try. Just… don’t make it weird or tell anyone. Tommy probably wouldn’t care but we’d never hear the end of it from Bubby and Dr. Coomer would probably have a thing or two to say about it too.”

“Got it. It’ll be our little secret.”

“Yeah, our little secret. Go uh… get ready for bed, I guess, like put on pajamas and… whatever else it is you need to do.”

Benrey turned and headed for the closet to pull out the sleep wear Gordon had bought him under the assumption he slept like a normal person. He didn’t take it to the bathroom but started undressing right there. Gordon turned away; Benrey might not care about privacy but he did. He returned to the bed and took off his glasses again, placing them back on the nightstand. Getting himself to settle down and lie on the bed again took a bit of hyping himself up but he got there eventually.

By the time he did, Benrey was ready to join him. This already being awkward enough, he did so without either of them saying anything. Unsure how to proceed, Gordon let Benrey initiate the cuddling. Which he did hesitantly at first before pressing into Gordon’s chest, seemingly losing all his shyness over it the moment they made made physical contact.

He wasn’t just not warm but actually a little cold. It was slightly unpleasant but as they settled into each other, he was also soft. Both of them wearing thinner, looser clothing meant a bit more skin contact too. He seemed to have that ‘surface of slime’ feel to all of him, perhaps attributable to his shape shifting. Maybe his true form was a slime monster? Would that be cool or gross? … A little of both. Mostly the former though because slime monsters could be pretty neat sometimes and if that’s what Benrey was, he certainly counted as pretty neat. That being said though…

“This is kinda awkward.” Gordon didn’t entirely hate it though. If nothing else, it was a very good distraction from bad dreams and bad thoughts.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Silence resumed after that as they shifted and got more comfortable. Much like a pillow, Benrey lost his coldness over time, making him just soft in Gordon’s arms again. And then, not long after noticing that, Benrey started purring. Rather weakly but it was still unmistakable in the silence and with how close they were.

“Oh, okay.” After how he’d reacted to Gordon bringing it up, he hadn’t expected Benrey would let him hear him purr ever again. “You’re asleep or…” was he actually choosing to do it this time?

“I told you not to make it weird.” His purring stuttered a little but he kept doing it, his voice rumbling with it. “You said it was soothing… helped you fall back asleep or whatever.”

“Sorry. It… it’s nice, lovely even.” Comforting especially as it strengthened, becoming a deep pleasant rumble that Gordon could feel in Benrey’s chest. “Thanks.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

Gordon’s choice on that matter was rather quickly dwindling. Being a bit awkward didn’t make it not also nice. He was comfortable and comforted. How could he possibly have a bad dream, let alone a full blown nightmare, with Benrey soft in his arms and purring so wonderfully?

~

Next Chapter

[rentumblsstuff]

Stacy headcanons? Since I love the way you write her

OOOO YAY UHHH LEMME SEE

My biggest headcanon for her is that Melissa (TGWDLM, Hey Melissa) is her cousin. She’s not a serial killer but she does have a little bit of a screw-loose like her. She also loves cats (and as opposed to being all serial-killer-y about people being animals, she’s really just into petplay-)

That connection being established, I think her family is rich! In Miss Holloween (a couple scenes were read in one of the fundraising livestreams for Cinderella’s Castle), it’s established that Stacy goes to college at Vassar in New York and that is not easy to get into and not cheap, so they’ve gotta have a bit of dough ykwim??? And in Hey Melissa, it’s stated Melissa flew all her friends in, and paying for 3 peoples’ airline tickets can’t be cheap. So……… They’re well-off.

DOM.👏 ENOUGH SAID.

She wears vanilla perfume!

Neurodivergent (and is very unaware of this) and cheer is one of her special interests! She’s also involved in the dance team at Hatchetfield High and could go on an infinitely long rant about the history of any given genre of dance (cause “what kind of a dancer doesn’t know that stuff???” A lot of them, Stacy… a lot of them.)

She also LOVES Sanrio and is secretly a huge fan of “girly” animes. She’s always wanted to bond with Richie over their shared love of Japanese culture but they were never really allowed to interact before Max “went missing.” Her favorite anime is Kakegurui and she tried to learn how to play card games because of it.

She was THRIVING with the whole e-girl look in 2020 and that’s usually how she dressed when she didn’t have to wear her cheer uniform. She WOULD HAVE been bullied for it if that’s not what everyone else was wearing too.

She’s got double d’s and this headcanon is PURELY because of the Stacy’s Melons thing from Abstinence Camp

In the future she experiments more with her hair because now she can do so without fear of getting bullied

Her favorite colors are baby blue and pastel pink.

Back to Stacy attending Vassar, I think she majored in women’s studies. Cause I don’t think anything else suits her better.

She’s had a crush on Richie for a while and hasn’t acted on it because she’s worried she’ll get bullied too, he’ll get bullied harder than he already does, or that her approach to flirting/asking him out will be too forward and creepy because she’s been told she comes across that way by other boys in the past.

Tw in this paragraph for SH; When Richie first admits to her when they start dating that he struggles with his mental health, she kisses the scars on his arms that he shows her.

If she had to be claimed by a LiB I think it’d be Blinky. She has a lil bit of stalkerish tendencies that he would appreciate. (Steph is Wiggly-claimed and Brenda is Nibbly-claimed just for reference in my head :])

If the NPMD cast was in a polar opposites AU where they’re all the opposites of themselves I think Opposite!Stacy would essentially serve the same function as Ruth, but she’s not role swapped with Ruth if you get what I mean.

SADIST. Paddles and clamps and shit dude. All her sex toys are super cutesy and aesthetic too. Definitely owns a couple tails.

I think with guys she’s dated before, they’ve done stuff but never gone all the way, so she’s technically a virgin. None of them could match her freak anyways 💅 she likes hearing about Steph’s hookups though; living vicariously through her best friend is fun and she totally doesn’t feel like an animal scratching at its enclosure to get out whaaaaaaaaat???

Trying to think of a wholesome one to end on hold on-

Her favorite fruit is pineapple because she learned that there’s an enzyme in it called Bromelain that breaks down proteins, so when you eat pineapple, it eats you back. She thinks that’s sick as fuck.

She watched Tiger King three times.

OH and her favorite app on her phone is Pinterest. She’s OBSESSED. Her boards are all perfectly organized, not a pin out of place.

There’s 20 headcanons :) thank you for reading !!! <3

[calronhunt]

hope you’re still open to those oc questions! first more of a technical one — I’m quite interested in descon because I, ironically, am also writing a story that used to be an ocxcanon t/o/h fanfiction LOL! I’m curious if you have any specific process when it comes to redesigning the characters to suit your new setting? How do you decide how much of their og appearances to keep and such? Leander looks especially awesome in your design style! ^_^

and secondly! if it’s not too spoilery— do Dry and Faith interact much, or is it more of a “plotting to kill Faith from the shadows without them ever knowing” situation (at least up until his death, potentially?)?

YAY!! YIPPEE!! good luck on your own ocifying of a toh ocxcanon story!

Really I only took Belos from toh (and kind of Gaius but she used to be a golden guard oc alongside Fate), and honestly I probably should've done more to oc-ify him but C'EST LA VIE. im too attached now. The main things I thought about were what I wanted to keep physicality wise (old man, long hair, freaky blue eyes) and what I wanted to keep storywise (Capital F Freak, brother issues, The Leader of whatever nation the new story took place in). The star eye thing was a design decision I thought looked neat and called back to Belos's weird green goop scars without just Looking. Exactly Like It (I created proper lore for it later). And the cloak is very much inspired by Belos cloak in the show but Blue this time since that's what I decided I wanted Leander's color scheme to center around. Basically, take the aspects that you really really like about the design/think about how it translates into this new story and bend them a bit! Again, I kinda wish I had done more to change Leander from Belos but what can ya do!

As for the second one: Dry and Faith do interact a lot! Dry is trying to learn as much as he can about Faith so that he can replace them easier. Plus, its just easier to get the opportunity to kill someone if they trust you (but maybe don't completely mess up and catch feelings for the guy you're meant to kill)

[dracoqueen22]

For eeriansadow: FF7, any Turks +/- any member of Avalanche. Beach vacation. An actual, real, suits come off beach vacation. (Spicy or not, as the prompt moves you)

This wasn’t Cloud’s idea in the first place, so maybe that explains why he’s here, right now, glaring at an abomination of nylon and ruffles, the bright colors practically blinding beneath the fluorescent lights. Complicated straps make it impossible to puzzle out how the damn thing goes on, but he also refuses to ask for help. 

He can hear faint whispering and giggles from the other side of the door, and the silky nylon continues to taunt him with a gaudy flower print. 

“We’re goin’ fishin’,” Cid and Barrett declared, and while there was a part of Cloud desperate to find some reserve of machismo, fishing wasn’t it. 

Also, Yuffie had invited herself along, and Cloud’s head started aching preemptively. Yuffie was wonderful in small doses. Yuffie was not wonderful stuck on a tiny boat in the middle of a mosquito-infested lake while waiting for lazy fish to take a nibble. 

Vincent said, “I have business to take care of,” and stared moodily to the West, cape flapping in a non-existent wind. 

Cloud was smart enough to read between the lines – he wasn’t invited. 

Rude said, “I’ll watch the bar if you take Elena,” and Tifa barked “Deal!” so fast Cloud didn’t have the chance to even form the thought to volunteer first. 

If he stuck around now, it would break that tentative hand clasp of trust between two brawlers. Tifa would never forgive him. 

Cloud had no idea where Nanaki had gone. Probably back to Cosmo Canyon. Which was technically an option, but not a vacation. 

“Can I come?” Reno asked, batting those big baby blues, and Aerith said, “Only if you wear the swimsuit we pick out for you.” 

And that might as well have been a challenge. He agreed, scoring an invite to the ladies-only seaside vacation. 

Reeve declined the suggestion of a vacation. “Too much to do,” he lamented from behind a mountain of towering paperwork. “Maybe next time.” 

And there was Cloud. 

Obviously not fishing, watching the bar, studying astrology, staring off into space, or rebuilding Midgar. Neither had he offered any ideas of his own, only hesitated in the middle of a flurry of activity, trapped by indecision. 

The ladies – plus Reno and Tseng who decided Reno needed supervision – were heading to Costa del Sol for a week of fun in the sun, relaxation, mai tais, volleyball, and swimming. Cloud was invited, but only if he agreed to the same rule as Reno. 

One that, apparently, Tseng was not required to obey. Which was patently unfair. 

And then machismo popped out its ugly head as Reno leered tauntingly and Cloud declared, “Anything Reno can do, I can do better.” 

Standing in the ladies swimwear section, Cloud should have known. 

Reno struts out of the changing room without an ounce of shame, bright blue straps hugging his narrow hips and pleats along his ass just begging for someone to toy with them. The triangle patches over his pecs are subtly padded, offering the illusion of breasts, as more thin straps hug his ribs and criss-cross his back. He’s going to need a gallon of sunscreen to protect his pasty skin. 

Cloud has no idea where Reno tucked his dick, and frankly, he’s afraid to ask. He can’t stop staring at the tiny line of cherry-red hair that vanishes into the top of the bikini bottoms. Or the sway of Reno’s high ponytail. Or the pink scars all over Reno’s body, one of which Cloud is pretty sure he’s responsible for. 

“Your turn,” Elena chirps and shoves Cloud into the changing room while he’s too busy staring at Reno’s ass to protest. 

So here he is, glaring at a swimsuit through no fault of his own. Or maybe those are all just convenient excuses he can use when someone asks him why he’s in a bikini instead of a pair of board shorts. 

Heart pounding, Cloud undresses and stares at the suit. It’s got a skirt with ruffles, probably to hide his dick since he doesn’t know the ways of dick-hiding like Reno does. The top is a wide bandeau of fabric that probably ties behind his back and behind his neck, if he’s reading the straps right. And it’s a blaze of neon color, greens and blues and pinks that seem to be the required shade for beachwear. 

Tifa knocks on the door. “Cloud? Do you need some help?” 

“I’m fine,” he grits out, just loud enough for her to hear. 

A barely audible sigh floats through the hanging fabric. “You know we’re only teasing, right? If you really don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. This is supposed to be a vacation, remember?” 

“I remember.” 

The worst part, Cloud thinks as he fingers the soft nylon, is that he doesn’t not want to do it. In fact, he kind of wants to see how he looks in the bright colors. He knows how the girls will squeal. He knows he’ll get compliments and heated stares. In fact, he kind of wants them. 

It’s the part where he’s got to admit it to himself that’s the problem. 

It’s, you know, the dress he never threw away from Wall Market. Or the tinted chapstick he keeps in his pocket, and the pair of panties he wears when he’s one-hundred percent certain no one else is going to be doing his laundry or taking off his pants. 

Cloud likes having a dick. He wants to keep his dick. But there’s something about the silk and lace and accentuating lines that make his heart race. 

“I’m not going to back out,” Cloud says with just enough of a huff that maybe Tifa thinks he’s angry rather than scared out of his mind. 

Well, half out of his mind. He knows what being fully out of his mind is like these days. It’s not great. 

Holding his breath, Cloud yanks the swimsuit off the hanger and starts to wrestle himself into it. The top takes the most effort, and his knots aren’t neat at all, but it’s on, and now all he has to do is open his eyes and look at himself. 

He sees, well, not a bad look actually. Tifa and Aerith have great taste, as he should have guessed. The ruffles hide his package, the bikini top frames his pecs like actual breasts, the colors make his eyes pop, and he actually looks… good? There’s nowhere to put his sword, but he supposes that’s the point of a vacation. He shouldn’t have it, and he’s not helpless without it, so. 

So. 

All he has to do is walk out. 

Another knock pierces his indecision. “Cloud?” It’s Aerith this time, her voice softer, like it’s pitched so no one else can hear them. “Are you okay?” 

Cloud stares at himself in the mirror. He’d confronted his own inner demons. He’d faced down Sephiroth. He’d swum with a dolphin, snowboarded outside Icicle, drove a motorcycle with expert precision, and hiked from one side of the world to the other. 

He can do this. 

“I’m coming out,” he says instead. He stuffs his other clothes into a shoulder bag, takes a deep breath, and throws open the curtain like he isn’t deathly terrified. 

Aerith’s standing there, blocking everyone else’s view, and her hands go to her cheeks, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she says, color peeking around her fingers. “Why do you look better in a bikini than I do? It’s not fair.” 

“Better than Reno?” Cloud asks. Because if this is a competition, he’s going to win. 

“Much,” Aerith promises and hooks her elbow around his, tugging him into the circle of their friends. “Okay! Beach time!” she announces. 

There’s a round of cheers, and while Reno is openly ogling Cloud, no one else is making a big deal out of it, so Cloud lets himself relax by fractions as they pile out of the store and head straight for the sun and sand.

“You really do look amazing,” Tifa says, appearing at his other side to take his other arm, until he’s trapped between the two ladies. “Bet you’ll get more numbers than Reno.” 

Cloud snorts, but he eyes the way Reno struts, batting his eyes, making a display of himself that indeed, draws the attention of other tourists, men and women alike. If he’s bothered by the dull glare Tseng keeps aiming at him for making a fool of himself, there’s no sign. 

“Maybe I can,” Cloud says, shoulders squaring with the idea of another challenge. “What do I get if I win?” 

Tifa and Aerith laugh in devilish tandem. 

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Tifa says with a tickle of her fingers down his bare arm. 

Aerith snaps the back strap of Cloud’s top. “I’ll bet this looks as good off as it does on,” she murmurs with a heat in her eyes that makes Cloud’s cheeks burn. 

“Okay,” he says, because apparently he’s weak when it comes to Tifa and Aerith (and Sephiroth and Zack and the list goes on). “I’ll do it.” 

“That’s my boy!” Tifa smacks his ass, and she forgets to pull her strength so Cloud jolts forward by several steps, immediately crashing into a cluster of attractive, sunbrowned and oiled people. 

Game on. 

***