#and a big thing that shows you how tornadoes are formed

[edsbacktattoo]

I’d take you to a planetarium 👉👈

as long as u also tolerate me bouncing around bc I fucking love space dmfbkdbf

anon it’s a date <3 i’ll wear something nice

also if i was with someone who didn’t get excited about space i would simply go home. they’re not worth my beautiful sexy time. bounce around to ur hearts content cause i’ll be bouncing with u bro

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[flw3rrr]

Thank you for responding! And honestly, creative freedom! An idea could be y/n (or however you wanna write it) is new to the team and is a little too eager and Tyler has to be that 'in charge' 'voice of reason' when she wants to take too risky of chances(like maybe they're chasing a Tornado and she decided to jump out of the truck way too close, idk) .. But if that doesn't vibe with you, that's totally ok! My fav is when he ends up manhandling y/n or the reader😅

No sense of safety

Tyler owens x gn!reader

Warnings: Reader has no sense of safety keeping tyler on his toes, no description of reader, no mentions of y/n. reader is a little clumsy (mention only) But also saves a cat so it's worth it

A/n: Tysm for this request anon, and thanks for the creative freedom. i based it off the details you gave along with a bit of ideas from me. I really hope you enjoy it and feel free to request more!💖

word count: 2k

Not really proofread but a little is i like wrote this at 1am. sorry for any typos

Have a request? Feel free to send me it in my inbox!

The little diner that basically was in the middle of nowhere almost sounded silent, with the only things heard being the clinging off class plates or mugs. seniors mostly seen, and then in the corner the tornado wranglers sat. It was the happiest day for you today because you were new to the team, and excitement was built up deep within you.

You've known Tyler for some time and gotten close to him; he was the one who brought you to the world of tornado chasing, and you were glad he did. You enjoyed the science behind it and how many different ways someone could tell a tornado was forming, the speed of wind, and a ton more.

But when you become excited for something, you tend to lose all knowledge of safety. getting too eager to start the job and have fun, but of course Tyler knew you and how you got so the night before today he sat you down and told you the rules and not to forget any of them. which you replied to him you wouldn't.

Soon a hand landed on your shoulder, looking up; it was Tyler standing up and looking at everybody. "Alright folks, today's the day we get some tornados!" The table cheered quietly in knowledge of others in the little diner trying to enjoy a meal. "And don't forget our safety rules." Tyler mentioned your name at the end, making sure it kept snug in your memory forever.

You just gave Tyler a nod in return, a little embarrassed since Tyler had obviously told the crew on how you got when too in the moment and excited. Taking one last sip of your water before heading out to the truck and the rest of the vehicles. Taking one of the monitors, you began to calibrate and made sure it was ready for whatever was ahead for today. 

"So you ready to join in the fun and chaos?" Looking over to see Boone approaching with the camera in hand. You'd always liked Boone; his humor was quite enjoyable, and he always made sure to capture the good moments for the viewers to see, but then he also knew what not to show. "Yeah, I am really pumped and ready." Not really having enough words to express, you just kept your response short. 

"It'll be fun, I promise, and the viewers always love new people who join. Perhaps you'll be the new star." He lets out a chuckle from his comment. Within seconds, Tyler appears, "New star? already plannin' for their future boone?" Placing his hands on his hips, his arm muscles clearly showing through the sleeves of his shirt. You'd admit to yourself only that he definitely was good-looking. "Yep, you know me gotta’ plan for everything. I know a star when I see one."

You felt very welcome by everybody and already felt like a star. Perhaps they were just boosting your confidence, but you enjoyed every part. recalling how you told your parents you joined the tornado wranglers with a big smile across your face and your parents held concerned looks. 

"No need to boost me that high, Boone; nobody really knows me, and they'll have to get to know me first before they decide if they even like me." Your parents always taught you growing up that it takes a while for people to get used to someone new, especially if it's something big.

Tyler let out a huff with a smile before turning his head toward you. "Nah, if I like you and the rest does, then they'll like you back. Don't doubt anything." You let out a laugh before speaking up. "Unless they see me do something stupid." Having moments in the past where you almost set off the fireworks in his truck when he showed you them for the first time or accidently set up the monitor the wrong way, causing it to freeze for a whole hour.

"We all do stupid stuff on streams, like one time i-" Boone began to speak once before Tyler cut him off. "Yeah, don't even continue on that." shrugging it off before nodding, you walked away to get more things needed for this chase. Carefully packing it up in the van and truck, making sure each is tucked away safe and not able to fling around from harsh turns that will come up sooner than later.

It was finally time to get out and start driving. Sitting in the back of the truck with all the equipment that you use to track the weather and tornado levels. "Hey, can you hand me the light for the camera back there? I forgot to replace this one," Boone asked. You just gave a smile in return before your arm moved in front of you, handing him the light, just before you could move. Tyler's hand landed on your wrist tightly, startling you in the process.  

Eyes slowly looking down to see why you realized your hand was close to setting off the fireworks almost once again. Quickly handing the light and bringing your arm back to you, "Sorry, I didn't realize." A wave of embarrassment rushes to you, wanting to sink into the seat and disappear. "It's fine. Just be careful this time. Okay,  we don't have a lot of fireworks on hand this time." He began to drive, his face stern before going to excitement for the camera.

His reaction scared you, thinking quickly that he was upset at you and annoyed. But he wasn't; he was just nervous having you on this chase, knowing how you get, and afraid of you doing anything stupid you'd regret. Slowly looking back at the monitor to show the camera and explaining who you were as well as what's on the screen.

Within minutes, there were so far three tornadoes; they were tiny and didn't really do damage, but I made sure to document them for future reference and further study. "So far, guys, we are getting good results, and you are all seeing this live!" Tyler yelled out loud to boost the viewers and likes. As you wrote down more, trying to make the handwriting more clear than messy, when in a moving car you take notice, Boone asked you a question.

"So why don't you tell them what you're doing as we drive down a boring road?" pointing the camera back at you once more. Blushing a little knowing millions were watching live at this very moment made you hesitate before speaking up. "Well, I work for a weather company, not a big one, but I'm getting every bit of data and tracking info I can get on each tornado that forms or tries to form basically so we can use it whenever something like this happens again, which it will." 

"See guys, they are also smart, so Tyler did good letting them join." Slowly turning the camera back to Tyler and letting you do whatever you needed to do. Enjoying the moment and everything, but your eyes missed the monitor at the moment you were writing. Showing high data of something big and dangerous, then it turned off with no signal shown on the screen.

"That's weird." You picked up the monitor to fix it, but nothing would work. The only thing it would do was turn off, and on displaying the "no signal," it was odd for you at least. "What's the matter?" Tyler spoke, taking a quick glance back to look at you. Glancing up at him before shaking the monitor, "It's not working anymore; it says the signal is lost. I can't see anything at all." 

Just as you tried shaking it, trying anything possible to work, the sky got darker, almost as if it were night. "Are you seeing this or?" Boone spoke up, breaking the silence in the truck, his hands holding the camera tightly. A crackle sound came from the radio that sat on the dashboard. Dani spoke up. "Guys, im saying this now we have to get to safety, um, it appears its going to be a big one."

Suddenly, Tyler hits the gas hard, sending you to fly back into the seat with a huff, the air pushing out harshly. Boone just cheers at the fast driving, while you were silently begging in your head for it to quickly come to an end. 

A small town in the distance appears almost quickly as Tyler continues to speed, the rest of the crew following behind. As Tyler slams on the breaks once again, you fly forward, but the thanks of seatbelts, it was cut. basically choking you, and the only time you were glad about choking.

Just as everyone got out, the wind speeds picked up quickly, chairs blowing away, leafs flying everywhere, and people running to safety. Just as you and the rest began to run to the basement of a store, your eye caught a glimpse of a tiny cat. 

Standing still and looking to the basement entrance and back to the cat, you take a step before a strong hand grips onto you. Looking back to be met with Tyler, "What on earth are you doing?! Do you realize you need to get to safety right now? Even I know that better than half of these people who are just running around!" His face looked harsh and desperate.

"I have too. There's a cat, and I'm not letting it fly up in the air, and if I let that happen, I'd cry forever." Losing your grip, you ran to the cat that stood still in fear; its tail stood straight. Tyler watched you as every second passed, a little annoyed, but he never took his eye off you. Within seconds, the wind picked up, and with the cat in your arms, you struggled to walk. Taking action, Tyler ran to you, and before you could speak, he picked you up tightly and back to the basement of the store.

Tyler put you down carefully and looked at you strongly. "That was a dumb move, and never do that unless you say something before. You can't die on your first day; I won't allow that." A breath of relief left him as he glimpsed down at the poor cat that still shook in fear.

"How about in three days then?" You asked with a smile, your hand slowly petting the cat to comfort it to the best of your ability. "I'll have to see." Just then the power went out, harsh winds

were heard loudly, and the cries of children filled the room, but Barely heard. Out of instinct, Tyler takes you into his grasp, holding you close to him. perhaps to comfort you or himself?

Just as your head turned to meet his, barely making it out with only a tiny emergency light lit the room. It felt as if the wind stopped and nobody was there but the both of you. Tyler leaned in first before his lips met yours in a heated kiss. It only lasted a second before the cat shook more as the emergency light began to flicker.

The tornado and storm lasted two hours before it was alright to get out. Trees everywhere, some stores destroyed, and cars, including Toyota's trusted truck. It was sad to look around as police and paramedics showed up to check up on everyone. You gave the cat to one of them to fully check on the cat."I wanted to apologize for acting harsh at the start of today and a few hours ago." 

"It's alright, Tyler; you just were used to everyone knowing how to do things normally and knowing to get to safety quickly." Stepping closer to him with a soft smile. "You didn't realize is my guess?" he suddenly spoke, which confused you. "realize what?" shaking his head with a sigh, he spoke again. "The tornado was like right there when you ran out to get the cat. That's why I was basically screaming at you."

“Oh.”

[tomssexdoll]

Can you do like a 2014-2017 Tom? Anyway so you and him got into a fight in the morning and you ignored him for the whole day. At night you and him were laying in bed and he was trying to apologize. But you get annoyed and just say like "fine now leave me alone." And he does... until... he pulls your close and puts his hands in between your thighs and starts to finger you... Then when you come he hugs you and you both cuddle each other to sleep 😻🤭

This is also my first time asking to do a story so sorry if it's weird...

YES OFC DW

Broken promise

PAIRINGS: Tom 2016 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N were supposed to have a cute little breakfast date but instead he goes and does his own thing, when Y/N confronts him he just shuts her down, she decides that she won't put up with his shit and ignores him for the entire day, then when in bed he tries to apolgise, in ways she wouldn't expect...

A/N: eeee

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, fingering, yelling & arguing

The morning started as peaceful, we woke up and kissed each other like we usually did, cuddling for half an hour before we got up, then things turned to shit.

I planned for us to make breakfast together, I even bought all the ingredients we'd need, but he just sat there on the couch watching TV. I thought nothing of it at first, just that he may of been waiting for me to prepare the ingredients, but when I called him over he just ignored me.

"Tom!" I called out, "what?" he grunted, frustrated that I took his attention of his sports game. "Cmon, we're making breakfast together," I smiled, showing him the cute measuring spoons I bought just for this occasion. "Nah, we can do it another day, this game is important," he mumbled, turning his attention back to the TV.

I felt a pang of hurt in my chest, "but Tom, you promised.." I called out, "shoosh Y/N! This game is important!" he grunted, closing the kitchen door. I was just stood there, shocked at what he'd done.

What the fuck was his problem, he'd never done this, ever. I walked out of the kitchen and grabbed the remote, switching the TV off, "hey! What the-" I cut him off, "no! what the fuck is wrong with you? You promised me you'd do this and what, you throw is all alway because of a fucking sports game?" I raised my voice.

"Oh, stop acting like it's so important! We can do it another day!" he grunted, trying to reach for the remote again, "no! you've never done this before, you always stick by your word, you can't even acknowledge my feelings?" I looked at him in disbelief, how could he do this?

"You're so sensitive!" he yelled, "it's not that big of a deal for fuck sakes!" "what the fuck Tom? Why are you acting like this, what have I done to deserve this?" I felt my emotions rising, ready to spill over the edge.

He knew I got emotional very easily, any mean word would send me into hysterical crying. He sighed, "I just wanted to relax and watch the game, what's the harm in that?" moving closer to me and caressing my cheek.

I pushed him away from me, "don't fucking touch me, you digust me," I wiped away a stray tear, storming off and sobbing. "Fuck.." he muttered, sitting back down on the couch and holding his head in his hands.

"Fucking asshole," I mumbled as I slammed the door to our bedroom, going into the bathroom and running a bath, desperatly in need to cool down. I grabbed my phone, headphones and some candles from the room and locked the bathroom door, not wanting to be disturbed.

I added my rose scented bubble bath soap, slipping off my clothes and relaxing in the warm water. "Ahh.." I exhaled, grabbing my headphones and connecting them to my phone, I put on an e-book and closed my eyes, enjoying the peaceful environment I was in.

I kept at this for an hour, switching books every 20 minutes, the warm water soothing my stressed out body. When I finished the last book I slowly got out, unplugging the tub and watching as the water drained, a little tornado forming as the water reduced.

I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my body, walking over to the mirror and grabbing my skincare, applying it all, wanting to take care of myself since Tom obviously couldn't give a shit. I dried off and put my clothes back on, walking out of the bedroom to see Toms tall figure standing there, eyes sad and guilty.

I just ignored him, walking past him and into the backyard, grabbing my gardening tools and blasting my music, pruning and water my lovely plants.

I could his eyes burning at the back of my head but I payed no mind to it, if he wanted to treat me like shit and not even apologise, then he's going to get silence, he doesn't deserve my forgiveness. He shouldn't of treated me like that in the first place.

Later on when it was time for bed, I kept my act up, not even acknowledging his precense, even when he stepped into the shower with me I pretended like he wasn't there, when he grabbed my waist I just walked away.

As I finished my bedtime routine I slipped into bed, covering myself with the thick, warm blankets. "Baby.." Tom whined, getting into bed with me and trying to bring me closer to him, but of course, I pushed him off.

"Why can't you just let me apologise, please baby..I'm sorry.." he sighed, I just continued to ignore him, not ready to speak up just yet, my feelings still hurt. "I'm so sorry schatz, you know how much I love you, I was just acting like an idiot, i'm sorry," he kissed my shoulder, rubbing my back gently.

I huffed, still not satisfied. "Baby just face me at least, I can't stand it when you give me silent treatment, I need to hear your beautiful voice, yell at me if you want," he begged, the urgency in his voice very apparent now. But I was still stubborn, I wanted so badly to forgive him I really did, but I was hurt, choosing a sports game over quality time with your girlfriend?

"Please baby..I'm sorry..", I finally decided to put him out of his misery, I couldn't keep this act up any longer, we both knew that I couldn't sleep without us being on good terms. "Fine..now leave me alone.." I grumbled, "okay baby.." he whispered, kissing my neck softly.

But then, he wrapped his around me, pulling me closer to him. I thought nothing of it at first, it was just him trying to cuddle me to sleep, like we always did, but I started to feel his hands drifting down, going in between my thighs, rubbing the sensitive skin.

"Tom.." I gasped, arching my back into him, "let me take care of you, hm?" he kissed my neck while sliding his hand into my panties, "just relax honey.." he whispered, pushing 2 of his fingers in my wet pussy, "mm..." I moaned softly, my cunt throbbing on his fingers.

He picked up his pace, slamming his fingers in and out of my needy hole, wet noises coming from my pussy as he continued to finger me. "Soo good.." he groaned, sucking on my neck as his fingers fucked me rapidly.

"Fuck.." I pushed my ass into him harder, throwing my head back to give him better access. He left little hickeys, kissing and biting softly on my neck as his fingers fucked me so well.

He continued to pleasure me so well, his fingers going deeper with every stroke as he fucked me with them. His thumb came up to my clit, rubbing slow circles around it.

"You like that don't you? You like the way I fuck you with my fingers.." he smirked, pumping his fingers in and out roughly, curling against my g spot. "Mmm!" I cried out, feeling his rock hard cock press into my back.

"Cum on my fingers baby, cmon," he egged me on, pounding his digits into me, my orgasm building up. He groaned as he felt me tighten around his fingers, "you gonna cum for me princess? Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good little slut, hm?" I nodded quickly, moaning loudly as my orgasm washed over me, spilling my juices all over his fingers.

"Good girl..such a good girl for me.." he smirked, removing his fingers slowly and licking all the cum off, "come here baby.." he whispered, flipping me over to face him and wrapping his arms around me tightly, bringing me into a warm hug.

"You forgive me now?" he chuckled lightly, kissing the top of my head, "yeah alright, but we better make breakfast tomorrow, make it up to me," I glared at him playfully, he nodded and kissed the tip of my nose, "of course, lets get some sleep now.." he rubbed my back soothingly, both of us drifting off to sleep.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @tomsonlyslut @bkaulitzlover @charliesgoodboy @estxkios @miyukafujii @ge-billsgf

[custardcrazy]

true connection

summary: Your boyfriend returns to you after a short disappearance (to who knows where). (gn!reader) 

wordcount: 2.4k 

A/N: set after peter gets dropped back to his universe. established relationship woohooooo!!!!!!!! (too lazy to write friends to lovers rn but i really want to) 

You weren't sure what happened to Peter when he vanished, but there was definitely something different about him when he returned. 

It was late, the sky an inky blue by the time you'd attempted to go to bed. Filtered through the small gap you left in your bedroom window were the sounds of the city at night: cars passing by, the occasional angry horn, pumping music from a couple of doors down. 

You didn't mind any of that. You could deal with the noise, of course. 

But what caused you to jump up and push all your covers aside was a familiar knock on the glass. 

It'd been years since he'd stopped showing up at your window, but lo and behold: there he was. 

To your mild relief, he didn't look injured or anything. Just a little scruffier than usual. 

Before, when he'd leave for certain periods of time, that usually meant he was off fighting some big bad alongside other superheroes. However, he always told you before he left to fight said big bad; this time, he was just up and gone. Apartment empty, things scattered around as if a tornado had swept through the small space. 

It was only natural to assume the worst. 

So, when he climbed through your window, landing maybe a little clumsily, you were torn between bombarding him with questions or clinging to him like some sort of touch-starved koala. After all, you'd been worried. To say the very least. But you didn't speak yet, as he stood up straight and rolled his shoulders. 

The air hung low, for a moment. His gaze met yours. Searching.

And then, his arms were around you. You were encapsulated by familiarity -- his were hands you knew, hands you'd held and kissed and examined countless times, even when frustratingly covered by his suit. You could feel the slight scratch of stubble as he pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering. 

"I missed you." Voice low, though it trembled a little. There was something else besides the normal homesickness that you were accustomed to.

"I missed you too," you echoed. Peter seemed content to just look at you for now. Now, his thumb was tracing your cheek. You let the tenderness of the action sink in, before breaking the silence. "Where were you?" 

And how important was it, for him not to let you know? 

His mouth opened as if he was going to speak, but he closed it soon after. A crease formed between his furrowed brows. "Uh," he began, "it's … a really long story. I'd try and explain it to you, but you'd probably think I was crazy or something." The corner of his mouth quirked up, and you couldn't help but match it. 

"You've fought countless outright bizarre villains -- I think I can handle it." 

There was another scratchy kiss pressed affectionately to your forehead. "I bet you could." 

"But, really." Even though he was smiling, you knew he was being serious. "I wasn't kidding. It's a really long story, and I don't really feel like doing the whole play-by-play right now." 

You exhaled slowly. "That's fine. But you'll tell me … eventually, right?" 

"Of course I will." Peter inclined his head a fraction of an inch, dipping more into your space. "I just need a really, really long hot shower and then a really, really long nap." He huffed out a quiet laugh. "And maybe a grilled cheese." 

"I think that's possible." You dropped your eyes for a second, thinking, then quickly met his once more. Naturally, he was downplaying his own exhaustion -- but again, you'd known him long enough that even his strong and practiced attempts at hiding his own weakness were easy to decipher. Obviously, he was worn. Tired. He always carried it on his back and shoulders, and especially in his eyes. 

"There's definitely some of your old clothes around here somewhere, if you wanted to use my shower." 

At that, Peter's smile widened. Sure, it wasn't an all-out grin, but it was just as sweet. From your close proximity, you could pick out the beginnings of crow's feet making their idents; sure, you were well aware that he wasn't the fondest of the few wrinkles that were forming on his face. 

Honestly, though? They only made him more attractive. 

"You're a lifesaver," he gushed, "seriously." Hesitating for a second, he added: "But could you indicate which towels I can use? I'd feel guilty for stealing yours." 

"Like last time?" 

"... That was three years ago." 

Reluctantly, you detangled yourself from his arms. "And yet, I still remember." 

"I'm a changed man, okay? You can trust me. Stealing is against my moral code." 

As you headed the short distance to the bathroom, Peter stuck close to you. Even if he wasn't holding you anymore, he didn't seem keen on leaving your side just now. His arm brushed yours as you moved past him to get to the closet. 

"These  -- and those, too, if you want." It took a little effort to reach around the various piles of things, but you handed him a towel. Bright cyan, with seashell patterns. "That's big enough, right? 

"Looks like it," he affirmed. "Thanks. I'll be out in a jiff." 

As if. Whenever he said that it'd take him at least half an hour. You wouldn't be surprised if your water bill suddenly skyrocketed. 

You retired to the living room, flicking on the television. Some late-night old movie reruns that looked semi-interesting, even if the video quality was a little shot, and the Transatlantic accents a little too smooth. Since the bathroom wasn't too far from the living room, you could distantly hear the water running in the background. 

"But Richard, no, I, I -- " pleaded the female lead, gazing at her man with nearly-teary eyes.  

" -- You've got to listen to me," he interrupted, nearly void of emotion in comparison. "Do you have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we'd both wind up in a concentration camp." 

--

It wasn't long before Peter emerged, hair damp and the seashell towel around his waist. A distinct cloud of steam wafted from the bathroom as he approached you, thankfully not dripping water onto the carpet. Even so, you could still notice some drops lingering on his shoulders and whatnot. 

"I'm guessing my leftovers are in your room," he said, a little pink in the face from what you assumed had been a burning hot shower.  

"Probably," you answered, getting up from the couch. "Let's see." 

After some rifling around in your dresser, you found them -- gray sweatpants, some worn plaid sleep shorts, an assortment of boxers, and a couple of ancient tee shirts which were probably old enough to legally own property. All the clothing got unceremoniously tossed at Peter, who looked mildly amused. 

"You should assign me my own drawer." Checking the shorts for holes, he paused to grin at you. "I bet there's even more stuff in there, huh?" 

Leaning back to sit on your heels, you sighed. "There's definitely more. But trying to find it all would be like trying to find buried treasure without a map." 

"And in this case, 'treasure' would be an extremely faded Daily Bugle sweatshirt." He raised his eyebrows. "Speaking of. I want that back, please." 

"Hey, it's really comfy, okay?" 

By the time you managed to rearrange the rightful contents of the drawers you'd thrown into a state of chaos, Peter had put on a shirt and the sleep shorts -- the latter were maybe a bit too small, but it wasn't like you were complaining. And it didn't seem like he cared, either, yawning widely as he stretched his arms to the sky. 

You stood up, mirroring his stretch. "Tired?" 

"You bet." He rubbed his eyes a little, before running his fingers through his hair; that ever-present lock of hair falling onto his forehead. "Are you?" 

"I was just about to go to bed when you showed up, so … " You absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "Yeah." 

"Oh, sorry 'bout that." Suddenly sheepish, he scratched the back of his neck. "I wasn't really thinking about the inconvenient time. I just wanted -- " 

" -- to see me?" You finished. 

The Peter of years prior would've ducked his head shyly. And, sure, that in itself was adorable, and would've made you go a little crazy. However, this Peter maintained eye contact, and nodded firmly, dropping his arm back to his side. 

Your heart did a neat double backflip. 

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I did. Like I said earlier … I missed you. A lot." 

The look in his eyes was genuine and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm glad you're back, Peter." 

--

The morning eased its way into your room, rays of sunlight trickling through your window and onto your face. 

You could hear the whirring of air-conditioning from the apartment above yours, as well as a couple of birds chirping. However, the sounds that overpowered the rest were the usual city ones: the aggressive morning commuters paired with the train passing by, clacking loudly on the tracks. 

His arm was slung over you, face somewhere near your shoulder or the top of your head. And he was completely dead to the world, quietly snoring near your ear. You smiled a little -- he smelled like your soap now, and not that three-in-one shampoo that he used. It was a nice change. 

For a little while, you remained laying there, enjoying the moment. He was warm, of course. Very comfy. A lot less sarcastic when he was asleep. 

Though, eventually, you did have to get up in order to make breakfast. 

With some effort and finesse, you wiggled out from under Peter's arm and scooted off the bed very slowly. To your relief, he was still basically unconscious, and just rolled over as you left the room, the wooden floor cold under your bare soles. 

There was some pancake mix left in your pantry, and although you were still a little groggy, making pancakes was practically second nature to you by now. Just like boxed macaroni and cheese. Or instant ramen, even if that didn't really count as cooking. 

By the time you'd loaded up a plate with the fruits of your labor, he was awake, practically lumbering into the kitchen. 

Upon sighting the food, he immediately moved to snatch a pancake straight from the plate. With no preamble whatsoever. Not even a 'please'. You knew by now it was futile to try and stop him, so you just let him take it. 

By the time he had half of it in his mouth, he finally spoke, words garbled by the food. " 'Morning." 

"Good morning to you, too." You tried not to comment on his lack of manners. "Sleep well?" 

He swallowed and leaned in to plant a kiss on your temple. "Excellently, actually." Pulling back, he brushed a couple of errant strands of hair out of his face; speaking of, his hair was sticking wildly in multiple directions, and he hadn't bothered to fix it just now. "I haven't slept that well in ages." 

Idly, he split the half of a pancake he was holding in half, lost in thought. "Scratch that. Maybe I have? After you helped me get that new bedframe from IKEA or wherever." 

"Yeah," you agreed, "seriously, why didn't you get a new one earlier? I didn't even know you were using just the mattress." 

He shrugged. "Couldn't fit the thing in the moving van." 

"Oh." 

Soon, you were both seated in front of the television, pancakes in tow. Peter flipped through the channels, before settling on the news. It was all normal stuff -- traffic backups, strings of petty theft, a new office building, et cetera. For a bit, you sat in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the ones that weaved their way in from outside, and the noise coming from the TV. 

Even though there was more space on the couch, neither of you wanted to move away from each other. 

Peter's head fell to rest on your shoulder. Instinctively, you wrapped your arm around him, and he audibly sighed, scooching closer. 

"So," you said, after a few seconds. "How long are you gonna stay here? Your apartment's a mess, isn't it?" 

"Do you want me gone that bad?" He volleyed back, teasing. "Then, no, I'm not leaving. I'm gonna mooch off your food, money, and WiFi -- forever." 

"Peter -- " you couldn't help but snicker, "you know what I meant." 

"Okay, okay." Dropping the snark, you could practically hear the grimace in his voice. "Later today, most likely. You're right, I do have to clean all that crap up." Barely audibly, he muttered, "god, I hate cleaning." 

"I know, I know." You leaned your head against his, not even paying attention to the news lady going on about some sort of rain pattern. "Seriously, though. Did a bomb go off in there or something? When I went to check on you, it sure looked like it." 

There was a noticeable pause before he responded, as if he was trying to figure out the best way to phrase what he was saying. 

"Uh, I swear I'm being honest, okay?" He began. "I'm not joking or anything. Really.” 

“But no, it wasn't a bomb, it was a … a portal.” He inhaled slowly. “And I got sucked through it. Some of my stuff got messed up because of its sucking." He made a couple of motions with the hand that wasn't resting limply on his thigh. 

"A portal? Like, a Doctor Strange portal?" 

"No, no, not like that." More hand gestures. "It was to another dimension. And that was why I didn't get any of your calls." 

After the initial shock -- honestly, it made sense. It had seemed like he'd just straight-up disappeared right off the face of the Earth. Sure, he got busy, but usually, your voicemails never went unanswered. 

"Oh, okay," you replied, calmly. 

He sat straight up, looking at you with more than a little bewilderment. "... 'Oh, okay?'" He repeated. "That's it? You're not gonna question it?" 

You shrugged lightly. 

"Why should I?" 

Just like you, it only took him a split second to recover. 

"Fair enough." 

He was back to leaning on you before he spoke again. "So … I'm assuming that you wanna hear all about my thrilling adventures?" Smirking, he sounded pleased with himself. "I became a mentor, you know. And saved every single alternate universe ever." 

"Oh, really?" 

When he kissed you, you reciprocated without hesitation. He tasted very faintly of chocolate chips -- and lingered again, before finally pulling away. 

"Really," he said. 

You smiled. 

"Tell me all about it, then." 

[koishiro]

# - 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

masterlist | genshin masterlist | upcoming anon asks

Diluc

Okay I’m sorry but he’ll flat out ignore you at first,

Or at least he tries to considering he can’t stop thinking about you which will make him confused for a while on why his heart “aches” when you’re around. He doesn’t realise it but when you’re around or generally anywhere near him, he’ll subtly scuffle closer towards you and I can imagine Diluc trying his best to be in your line of sight as much as he can because that’s his way of infiltrating your mind. Every time you visit Angel’s Share don’t expect to pay for anything, it’s conveniently on the house. I can imagine he’d also want a form of validation from you (and only you) after he gives his opinion in a discussion, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Fancy seeing you here Y/n, the usual? What are you doing? There’s no need to spend your mora on such wasteful things”

Zhongli

…I hope you like tea,

Because you better expect to be invited to the funeral parlor “for tea” at least 3 days a week. If you’re ever walking through Liue and compliment something at a passing stall, he’ll buy it for you without a second thought because let’s be real (and these are his words exactly): - “mora has no value if it’s not spent on something worthwhile” …this man - he doesn’t realise how much of a flirt he is and is always confused if he catches your red face. He’ll also subtly court you without making it too obvious, like he’d appear at your place of work quite often with the excuse;

“the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is running quite slow today, I wondered if you’d like to take a stroll around the town with me, possibly have a look at the stalls”

Kaeya

This flirtatious bastard,

He’ll always think of ways to make you malfunction. You’re a regular at Angel’s Share as well?: “Ah so this is where all the pretty ladies are kept hm?”, followed by a drink he bought you. Any time he sees you walking though the streets of Mondstadt he’ll jog up to you and say: “Going somewhere m’lady? I could escort you if you’d like, maybe you’d care for a drink at the tavern?”. I can imagine Klee giggling to herself when she sees you as if she knows something you don’t…

“Sorry miss Y/n, Klee was told she can’t say anything, Kaeya made Klee promise - oh, you won’t tell Kaeya will you miss Y/n?”

Al haitham

This withdrawn boy…

He’d quite literally just stare at you from across the room until someone (Kaveh) nudges his shoulder, telling him he’ll scare you off if he continues. If you’re already aquatinted with each other he’ll most likely try and impress you by giving you book recommendations or talk about his findings at the Akademiya while you zone out and stare at his face for the next few hours. If you’re not aquatinted, he’ll saddle up to you and still give you recommendations:

“If I could just interject, herbal tea would be best whilst chamomile shall just make you drowsy, if you’d like I could show you how to make your own”

Childe

Ah yes, the cocky ginger,

I imagine he’d act like Kaeya, if he saw you strolling through Liue, Childe would stride up to you and ask if he could escort you to where you need to be with the excuse; “you can never be too careful” and this would become a habit to the point of meeting you once your shift ends to walk you back home. He’d also 100% spend his money on you no doubt, like Zhongli his excuse would be

“what’s the point of mora if I can’t spend it on a pretty girl hm?”

Itto

I hope you’re a dog person,

Because this is at your beck and call. One of the ways he shows his interest towards you is gift giving; you need a certain herb? Wait here while he goes and hunts it down for you, or maybe you need some meet? Don’t worry, he’ll quickly chase down a boar for you. And if you thank him a big smile when he delivers them? His tail could cause a tornado with how powerful his tail is wagging. Another way he shows his interest is physical affection; you’re sitting down reading a book? He’s there with his head on your shoulder, you’re both walking through town? He’s got a firm grasp on either your hand or your arm,

“what? I can’t let you wander off and get yourself lost, what would I do then? Who would hive me head pats?”

Kaveh

You wouldn’t even know he has a crush on you,

Instead thinking he’s just this friendly with everyone. Being an architect, no less from Sumeru, he would show and explain his ideas to you and ask for advice on what you think about them, sometimes he’ll deliver miniature structures to you that he made, for example: he once made you a wooden mobile (like a baby cot mobile) to hang wherever you please that plays music because he knew you had trouble sleeping or another time, he made you a glass wind-chime that would reflect the sun and cause rainbow rays to spread across your porch because you spend so much time in your garden. He’ll either make these as a thank you, a just cause, or he’ll make up a white lie and say it’s an experiment he’d like you to test run, always delivered with an excuse he made beforehand:

“Ah Y/n, glad I ran into you! I noticed the other day that you were struggling to keep on top of watering all of your plants so I made an automatic watering system! If it all goes well, I might start a batch of them”

—

－𝘬𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

[rowdyhughesy]

Like father like son - Jack Hughes

“ you have chaos in your soul and lightning in your veins. You my dear were made for wild, magical things “

- erin matlock

word count: 1.2K

There's a lot of things you'd like to say in this moment, things you'd like to do as you watch him stand in front of the mirror. Lip tucked between his teeth and nervous features on his face. But you know that what you have to say won't make a difference so you stay silent. Newly painted fingernails twisting and turning the ring on your fingers, a habit you've developed since you got married.

It's not until familiar arms wrap around your shoulders, the hands grabbing yours to stop your anxious fiddling that you get out of your head. "Breath Sweets, I'm starting to think you're more nervous than he is." Jack chuckles pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Turning your head you lower your voice, scared that you're gonna make your son even more anxious if he hears your conversation.

"I'm just worried he's going to be disappointed." Jack gives you a lazy smile in return. Giving you a quick peck he walks over to your oldest grabbing the tie that lays discarded on the hotel bed.

It warms your heart, watching Jack walk over to Lake,  bumping his shoulder against the teenagers in greeting. How they share small words between each other as he helps him with his tie.

It brings to back to Lakes first picture day in preschool. You’d styled his unruly curls -he got those from Jack- and he had whined about how the dress-shirt was itchy while Jack helped him tie his shoes for a solid 5 minutes.

“What do you think mom?” Lake does a twirl showing you his finished product. Dark green suit making him look more tan than he already is and the brown curls are falling in his eyes. You’d told him to get a haircut but he had been persistent in not ruining his precious flow. Faint freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.

Blinking away the tears that are forming you stride over, tugging the tall boy close in a hug. “You look so handsome baby.” Is all you can muster up between the sniffles. Lake gives you his signature look when he thinks you’re embarrassing. It often comes out when you’re at his games screaming so loud you can hear it on the other side of the rink.

Jack feeling left out pulls both of you into a group hug. The three of you stay like that for a while, reminiscing back to when it were only the three of you for a solid 5 years. Back in your apartment in Newark, before you bought the house in Hoboken. Before the twins were born.

It was free days with no practice, games, school or work spent playing street hockey and eating breakfast for dinner. It was Lake scoring a goal on Luke for the first time at 5 and a big toothless smile as he jumps in Jacks arms screaming daddy did you see that?

Things weren’t as hectic but it’s all the chaos, road trips and early practices that brought you here and it’s all you could wish for.

This day is all about Lake.

A small knock on the door catches your attention. Giving Jack a look as to say I've got it you wrap your hand around the handle opening it. In the hallway stands your families. The twins Parker and Kaiden come barrelling in like the tornado they usually are as soon as the door opens. A laughing Luke following after along with Quinn who gives you an apologetic smile. "They couldn't wait any longer to see you guys I'm sorry."

“It’s fine Quinn.”

Kaiden seems to have found interest in pestering Lake per usual, babbling in his ear about how he’s better than him at hockey to which Lake only puts him in a headlock. Knuckles ruffling the blonde hair as Kaiden screams for Parker to save him.

Parker isn’t listening to his pleads though because he’s fully concentrated on watching something on Luke’s phone.

The pair of them more best friends than uncle and nephew. Jack believes it has something to do with the fact that both of them are the youngest out of three brothers. You think it’s because Luke is secretly Parker’s hero.

“Kai stop annoying him. Lake don’t give your brother knuckles he’ll go bald if you do that shit” Jack finally breaks Lake and Kaiden apart, having grown tired of their fighting. Kaiden stares at his dad astonished for a second before his head whips around glaring at his older brother.

“I’ll never get any girls if you make me bald asshole!”

“Kaiden language!”

Your knee is bouncing up and down in your seat, hand tightly holding onto Jack’s in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. Lake is biting his lip again but it’s pointless to say anything because he will continue doing it until his name is called.

You know he doesn’t anticipate being picked first overall, his numbers are even better than Jacks were during his draft year but Lake is a realist. Something he got from Jim, he knows he can be number one but there’s other players equally as good so he waits.

The start of the draft before the picks start going off has you even more anxious. Why is it taking so long?

When the spokesperson for the New York Islander steps up on the stage you grab Lake’s hand on instinct. Giving it reassuring squeeze as to say it’s okey. He squeezes right back. One hand running through his hair just as the man in a suit speaks up.

“The New York Islanders are proud to select as first overall from university of Michigan. Lake Hughes.” Before the announcer even has the chance to say the full name you and Jack are up on your feet cheering. Lake stands up with his eyes wide as if he can’t believe what just happened. Like he’s waiting for someone to wake him up.

You whisper how proud you are and how much you love him in your sons ear as he hugs you. Silent tears spilling from your eyes and you don’t even try to hide it because this is all he’s ever wanted and it happened.

Jack brings Lake into the tightest hug you’ve ever seen and that’s saying a lot since he’s always hugging your kids whenever he has the chance.

“I love you Lake. Now go up there and show them what being a Hughes means alright? I’m proud of you buddy.” Jack wipes away his tears when he thinks nobody’s looking but you all see it.

Lake walks down the stairs, shaking peoples hand with a toothy grin as he goes. Handing off his suit jacket when he reaches the stage and shakes more hands before the jersey is given to him.

Turning to Jack you find him already looking at you, glassy eyes and soft smile.

“You did that.” You tell him and he only shakes his head before kissing you.

“No baby, we did that. Together.” And it makes you giddy.

Yeah you did that, you made an awesome kid who loves hockey.

His skill set aren’t thanks to you though because you’re a lousy shot and fall on your ass most of the time when on the ice. The hockey? The hockey is all thanks to Jack.

[im-a-marion3tt3]

I Am Cruel Only To Be Kind

Big tw for attempted Suicide and self harm. Please don't read if this will trigger you. Remember, you're not alone ❤ reach out and seek help if you need it, that's nothing to be ashamed of

An all time low. That's what Dewdrop had heard people call it before. It never made any sense to him either, until now.

His room was a mess, clothing blankets and toys were strewn all about his room, shoes as well. It looked as if a tornado had circled through his room and no one had even tried to clean up after it. At the heart of the storm layed Dewdrop, curled up underneath his blanket. He had done his hair, dressed nicely and even tried to do his make up but nothing made him feel better. Not even when Rain joined him in the bathroom with a new case of razors. The two of them had spent over an hour carefully placing the blade against their skin, sometimes dragging it, other times pressing down harshly. Dewdrop had gotten caught up in the feeling and went to cut his radial artery, something so alluring about how this one action could end it all for him. Rain hadn't allowed for that though, pulling the blade out of his hand and looking at him with fear. Whatever the water ghoul had said didn't stick with him, nor the clean up. Dew doubted he had cleaned himself up though, a sick part of him praying that he would bleed out.

That had been hours ago, however. The bandages that had been taped to his skin were long gone, having joined the floor with everything else. Dew had tried to scratch open the scabs but they didn't bleed nearly fast enough before they clotted up once more. It made him sob silently as he scrolled aimlessly through his phone. It was the only thing he had energy for; especially when it came to reading comments full of hatred directed at him. Really, it just fueled his desire to die.

A text came across his screen. It was from Mountain, asking about dinner and what people wanted. It made Dewdrop's stomach hurt with hunger but truthfully, he didn't care. The next time he got up would be his last time, or so he told himself. Another text came through, this time from Rain asking about how he was holding up since he seemed way too into cutting himself today. If only he knew, he unfortunately would know soon enough.

The nail in the coffin finally came, though not in the form of a comment, rather, a picture. It showed the world on fire next to a polluted ocean and melting ice caps. That was his last straw, his will to keep fighting had completely dissipated as he realized just how horrible the creatures they performed for were. It was ironic considering he as a ghoul was deemed a monster.

Dewdrop sent his phone flying across his room, hitting the wall with a sick crack. A note had already been written, it rested on his bed side table everything else had been shoved to the floor to make it clear. He then headed to his closet, pulling out a belt. It was unfortunately time.

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

Rain shared a wall to Dewdrop's room, meaning, he heard a lot of what happened on the inside. When the text he sent went unanswered, he just assumed that the other was asleep. Self harm was emotionally and physically draining after all. However the sound of something crashing against a wall put him on edge. He knew Dew's anger sometimes got the best of him but there was no yelling or sobbing to accompany.

Rain needed answers at this point and even if Dew couldn't convey his feelings, then he should at least be there for the other ghoul. Slowly, he slipped out of his room and softly knocked on the door. No answer. So he knocked again after a minute or so. Still no answer. Rain just sighed and opened the door anyway, expecting to find a very upset ghoul throwing a tantrum.

Once he made out what he truly was seeing, Rain dropped to his knees, feeling so dizzy. "Dewdrop?" He whispered looking up at the body that hung from a shelf that was mounted to the walk. Rain couldn't see straight, his body felt heavy and his mind was dizzy. All he could do was crawl towards his best friend. Once he was touching the wall, he used it to hold himself up, quickly ripping the belt apart. It sent Dew falling to the floor only to be caught by one of Rain's arms.

"Dewdrop? Dewy? Come on, you're okay... Come on, come on!" Rain cried, shaking Dewdrop and getting louder the more he panicked. It drew the attention of Phantom and Mountain who had been outside enjoying the pouring rain. Mountain poker his head in first and gasped softly before dragging Phantom into the room. The quintessence ghoul was still struggling with his abilities, yes, but he was there best shot.

Words were exchanged between the three, Phantom taking a spot next to Dewdrop's unmoving head as he did his best to work his magic. Mountain's large hand rested on the young ghoul's knee, trying to comfort him the best he could without being a distraction.

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

Through many tears, a passed out quintessence ghoul and a trip to the infirmary, Dewdrop made it though he wasn't the same little flirtatious spitfire they all loved. No, he was a shell of himself, seemingly stuck in some dissociative episode. That didn't stop Rain though he spent all his free time sitting next to Dew, telling him about his day, what he did and what he wished to do once Dew was back to normal. His favorite thing to do though, was read. As of lately, he had started enjoying reading to the other, that way he didn't have to have his heart get crushed waiting for a reply.

"Where were we Dew?.... Ah, here, okay 'He went and stood at Polonius’ body. ‘As for this lord, yes, I’m sorry, but heaven has chosen to punish me with this and this with me, that I have to be heaven’s agent for its retribution. I’ll take him away and pray for him. So, again, good night. I have to be cruel only to be kind... "

[relia-robot-writes]

Original prompt from Impressions of Detail on Cohost: A dim shelf of strange bottles, each containing tiny things frozen in time: storms, sounds, moments, people.

"Of course," she says, her back to you as she picks up a random bottle on the shelf, blue with a light wooden cork, "they always say you should start small, but how does that get you anywhere? My motto has always been to start big."

She tosses you the vial - not much bigger than two of your fingers put together, really - and gestures for you to unstopper it. You struggle for a moment, and then pure distilled sunlight pours out, liquid gold on your palm and fingers. You try not to let it drip, and catch the scent of cut grass and a warm summer breeze. The reflection of the room in your palm looks almost like a butterfly... she takes the vial and stoppers it again, leaving you with sticky fingers. Your clothes glow where you wipe them off.

"A summer's day, taken whole. Kid's stuff, really, the work of an amateur, but it emboldened me." She replaces the vial and picks up a storm-grey flask, its contents swirling quicksilver. She attaches it to a machine on her bench, which rumbles, extracting a single drop of sparkling grey. She lets it fall, and the workbench is awhirl with wind, save for a single spot in the dead center.

A lightning bolt makes you jump, to her delight. "You took a tornado?" you cry, incredulously.

She shakes her head, smiling. "I took a hurricane." she replaces the flask, and pulls open a cabinet to show several more. "And a few more, just in case. Wondrously useful, hurricanes, when," she glances at you, smirking, "properly controlled."

You gulp. "So," you say, trying to cover your emotions, "you steal the weather?"

She raises an eyebrow. "I take what I choose. I started with weather. It taught me many things." She pats a machine in the corner, a large cylindrical tank with various pipes leaning in and out of it. "Bottled things can be distilled, you see. You take a hurricane, and it can be separated, sluiced out. The thunder's crack torn from the lightning's power. The wind and water divided and partitioned. But that is only an apprentice's magic." She rolls a ladder across the room and skitters up it, throwing wide a door to showcase an entire rainbow of potions. "The journeyman's magic is in these, elements of the world formed and purified. Here," she tosses you a bottle, glowing cyan and electric to the touch, "try some liquid Motion. Or perhaps," she tosses you another, and you fumble for a moment to catch the bottle of red ooze that tries to drag your hand to the floor, "some Solidity? Or," she tosses a third bottle, orange and flickering, and you frantically attempt to juggle all three before they all fall to the ground, shattering open with a thunderclap. You try to shield yourself from the shards and liquid, but after you flinch you realize that it's all formed into a single muddy ball of glass and magic at the tip of her finger. "Breaking my vials, dear? That might cost you," she says, stroking your chin with her other hand.

Sweat beads on your forehead as your chin is lifted upwards, tilted towards her. "What- I didn't-" She's trying to bait you. You can see it in her eyes, in her devilish grin. You crush your eyes shut for a moment, trying to reorient yourself, but her touch on your face is driving all rational thought from your head. You stumble towards anything to say. "What," you breathe, almost unheard, "what about the Master's magic?"

She withdraws her touch, and you follow her forward half a step. Your eyes open to see her half-smiling still, her eyes aglow with the question. "I worked long and hard for mastery of my craft," she murmurs, her eyes locked with yours, "and it will forever amuse me that I started so large only to end so small."

She pushes you, gently, and you stumble backwards into a chair you hadn't realized was there. Had it been there, before? She spins it, raises it up, and you realize it has several instruments, needles, sharp things arranged around it - and restraints, which she closes efficiently. You try moving your arm, and feel the soft leather gently bite into your wrist.

She twirls in front of you, skirt flaring out, to yet another cabinet of bottles and strange machinery. "The master's magic," she declares, "is in the invisible, the undefinable - personhood, humanity, intelligence, kindness, cruelty." She picks an ampoule off the shelf, a tiny thing filled with viscous cloudy liquid, and dangles it in front of your face. "Each person is comprised of a thousand thousand parts; emotions, desires, memories. I can take a human and break it down into its most basic elements, or make a brand new one from distilled parts. Fill someone up, or empty them out like a dried husk." She restores the ampoule to its rightful spot, among the hundred identical ones that sit on she shelf. Her fingers trace up your arm, and she whispers in your ear.

"But that's why you came to me, isn't it?"

You feel a sting at your neck, and the room begins to go dark as the instruments and her smile descend on you.

Original tag commentary: #Doll conversion? Bad ending? Serial killer? Truly extra endocrinologist? The world may never know.

[threewaysdivided]

Hey ! i'm a longtime follower of your blog and I've read a lot of your YJ analysis and why the latter seasons totally flopped. I haven't seen you comment on Young Justice Phantoms, although I guess your opinion remains the same. However I'd love to read it one day.

PS : I do think Greg Weisman is a decent writer, but not that good at characterization and desperatly needs editors and not enablers *sigh*

Hey nonnie!

Glad you’ve found my YJ writing critiques interesting. 

The reason why I haven’t commented on Young Justice: Phantoms (or the final Targets comic) is that I haven’t watched it, haven’t read a synopsis and have no plans to ever do so.  My interest in the series went pretty cold as far back as Invasion but at the time I was willing to give the showrunners good faith on their claims that they had a plan to bring things together and that the problems were mostly production issues.  However, after how bad Outsiders was (and having seen similar awfulness from Greg Weisman in other franchises) I don’t have any good faith or trust left to give them.

I talked at length about how Outsiders left the show with no compelling narrative as part of this big Invasion breakdown (grumpier TL:DR version here), but here are the most relevant sections:

In terms of the Central Conflict, the Light are proved utterly correct: by Outsiders the Original Team are callous, hollow husks of their former selves, who have replicated a worse version of the same status quo the Team originally formed in response to. Dick, Kaldur and M’gann’s Anti-Light are a new upper echelon of older heroes who keep even more secrets from the next generations, who exclude the new generations far more strongly from knowing their plans, who give them even less reason to trust or communicate with them, and who do so for less just, less honest and less narratively justified reasons than their own mentors’ understandable (if condescending) desire to shield the proteges from the parts of the Life they may not yet have been equipped to face. Not only that but their constant lying with the intent to control others, and refusal to hold themselves accountable for those actions goes directly against both the League’s stated heroic ideals of “Truth, Liberty and Justice” and Red Tornado’s conclusion that caring is “the human thing to do”. By the end of Outsiders, even the existence of the Team itself is undone; decommissioned into the exact kind of safe training space that the Season 1 characters were desperate for it never to be. […] With Outsiders, any actual narrative set by Young Justice Season 1 is over. By their own standards the Team have lost, and lost entirely.

The meta-narrative of Young Justice Animated is that of a show that started with a promising initial season and strong sense of narrative identity, only to discard every part of that identity.  With Invasion the show discarded its original characterisations, themes and ideologies; replacing them with contradictory and often antithetical ones.  Outsiders would then shed even the surface trappings of its aesthetic (in favour of the more generic “modern DC” art-style) and mission-based narrative structure.  There is nothing left, save for some superficial proper nouns and call-back references: the textbook definition of an In Name Only Sequel.

I didn’t bother with Phantoms (and am frankly a little artistically insulted by its existence) because I knew it was doomed from the start to be a narrative stillbirth.  Having actively abandoned its original identity, Young Justice was left desperately scrambling to forge a new one, by clawing at the one thing it had left: people’s nostalgic attachment to the Season 1 iterations of the cast.  But this could never work because every season since has been engaged in a performative pretense of not acknowledging the character-breaking contradictions and hypocrisies forced upon the original cast by the poor writing decisions.  Phantoms would have to thread an impossible needle: wanting to be about the “journey” of the original cast for nostalgia reasons, while not being able to acknowledge that the last two seasons (and attaché comics) have resulted in all of them either actively failing or being tragically soft-locked out of their explicit character arcs without breaking that kayfabe of performative ignorance.  And, in trying to tell a story without engaging with that story's content or how broken it had become, what would they have left but to fall back yet again on canonical filler, sidequests and references held loosely together by contrivance? 

It could only ever be a zombie-fic of itself: having long-since concluded or abandoned any remaining character or plot threads, driven forward solely by the stream-of-consciousness compulsive-writing of a production team desperate to remain present, relevant and profitable.  And from the feedback I’ve heard from the general community and fandom friends who kept watching, it seems like Phantoms did indeed pull down the curtain on that empty, directionless, hollow-automaton-filled narrative for a lot of people.

As for Greg Weisman himself, while I agree that he is a particularly poor character-writer, I will respectfully but firmly disagree that he’s otherwise decent.  I think the fact that we have to caveat “he’s a decent writer” with the condition “so long as he’s surrounded by a team of strong editors and directors to keep him from being awful” kind of reveals that he isn’t.   I also don’t really accept the premise that the main fault lies with the people around him for not stopping that.  They certainly haven’t helped but he’s a grown adult who can make his own decisions. Enablers don’t generally induce behaviours; they simply amplify or become complicit in the behaviours that are already there.

In the video Plagiarism and You(tube), Hbomberguy did a great job of laying out the difference between “honest mistakes” – which can be easily cleared up by good-faith apologies and explanations – and “dishonest behaviour” – where the person(s) is aware that what they are doing is not appropriate and falls back on reputation-protecting deflections and “non-apologies” to avoid consequences when caught.  Weisman would not so-frequently disrespect his colleagues’ work with contradictions, or write patterns of misogyny, queerphobia, casual racism/ableism and abuse apologism into his stories if he did not fundamentally feel entitled to do so, was not comfortable and in agreement with those beliefs, or did not think he could get away with it.  And the way he has routinely responded to even gentle, good-faith comments by fans expressing frustration/confusion with inconsistent characterisation/structure indicates someone who knows he has done the wrong thing but resents being questioned or held accountable.  And then we see him continuing the same behaviours.  A “decent writer” should not need an editor to hold their hand and explain why directly contracting explicitly-stated characterisation is bad practice.  A “good ally” should not need someone to tell them that disproportionately subjecting queer/non-white characters to shock-value violence, writing minority characters to be dirty/dangerous/less valid in their identities, erasing/demonising/misgendering AFAB trans and bisexual identities, rewriting strong female characters to need motherhood or men to “tell them who they are”, writing gay men to be secretly misogynistic/racist, and framing victims as being equally responsible for their abuse is offensive.  All of which he has either directly done or tacitly allowed under his lead.  Multiple times.  Across multiple series.

These are not isolated incidents of “good-faith mistakes” from a newcomer learning the ropes (if they were, it wouldn’t bother me like this).  Weisman has had multiple seasons - multiple franchises even - and decades to show himself to be the kind of sincere ally and visionary artist of integrity that myself and his fans wanted him to be… and that he has so benefited from presenting himself as.  He has chosen not to. Say what you want about their stories, but you can’t claim that marginalised creators like ND Stevenson, Rebecca Sugar, Dana Terrace and allies like Neil Gaiman didn’t push back hard against their own publishers and make a lot of careful compromises in order to tell those stories in a way they felt was respectful. Weisman is in a very privileged position, with a resume that carries a decent amount of clout. He could have held himself to the creative standards he publicly expresses; could have worked improve his craft, could have examined his own biases and actually learned from the communities his stories speak about/over.  But he didn’t – because obviously it's easier and more comfortable to keep being lazy, keep relying on his colleagues to carry him, to not question his own biases/privileges and then lie when caught.  And with the money he makes, and all the second chances and new jobs he keeps getting handed, what incentive does he have to change that behaviour? 

So, personally I don’t buy his attempts to position himself as an UwU Nice Guy Ally whose haters are taking him out of context and whose nasty publishers keep forcing him to do incoherent bigotry.  He’s a grown-up, who can own his own behaviour.  And, even with a generous reading, this is at best the behaviour of a fair-weather sell-out who is willing to abandon his principles at the slightest hint of pressure from above.  That is not what respect looks like.  I wanted to give him good faith, but in light of all this, I find I can no longer trust him to keep his word or be honest about his intentions.

This is kind of the other reason why I choose not to support or engage with YJ Phantoms (or the revival in general): on top of being utterly disinterested, I just don’t want to incentivise this kind of creative behaviour with more money or attention.  I also can’t ignore what could be a pattern where Weisman makes grand promises that he likely never has a plan or intent to fulfill, then deliberately leaves holes/timeskips/inconsistencies in his narratives in order to generate ongoing demand for separate-purchase side content which promises to “fill those gaps”… but which never does because there isn’t actually a plan to facilitate that (thus creating an endless cycle of demand and profit).  To me that cuts a little too close to the potential for a privileged creator to be exploiting their clout and the good-faith belief of their fanbase in order to grift those fans out of their time and money.  I don’t find that acceptable.

So, yeah.  Not to deploy the GIF again but:

It'll be a big, fat doughnut on YJ Phantoms content from me 🍩. Sorry!

[doom-nerdo-666]

If you recall my "Deconstructing the Dark Lord" post, you probably recall a bit saying "imagine if Doom's Devil was even bigger and scarier than the Icon of Sin".

But at the same time: Why can't Doom's Devil also be the Icon itself?

In classic Doom, it was technically the biggest demon at the time (Whose size was hinted in the end text as if it was really huge).

Then there's the manuals for Final Doom using names like Baphomet and Gatekeeper.

(And of course, there's the Romero head easter egg and maybe how Romero wouldn't do another Doom after 2)

D2RPG also gave it a different immobile design but still gave it dialogue like a character talking to the player and commanding demons, while you also fight it personally as the Virtual Icon of Sin.

Whereas Eternal has the IOS using Maykr armor, as a tool under Maykrs and even carrying the soul of Valen's son.

The IOS does get a body and more attacks/expanded moveset but doesn't have the antagonistic role it had in D2RPG.

Because one could also wonder if the IOS could have different bodies/forms.

The name "Icon of Sin" also feels like it could hint something special about the monster, as if it really imbodies sin as part of its existence or represents something more than just a big mean goat.

But on the subject of forms:

This one is from the "meytr" Rentry post: Its body is like that of Kronos from DRPG, a floating upper half with 4 arms but some are cybernetic and others aren’t, while under the body is a hybrid of a black hole and a tornado (It can suck you up if you fall); Its chest also has that heart thing Davoth has; Its stage is a series of platforms and hazards around him, while the background hints of the fight taking place in some creepy/weird section of Hell; He can summon like 5 demons at the same time by shooting the spawn cubes from his forehead; Has some of his attacks from Eternal (Rain of meteors, laser beam, flamethrowers, fast projectiles, stomping with hands) and a black hole projectile, that can pull the player in some vacuum-like way.

Another "meytr" one: A second phase after the Icon of Sin but whether it's the same creature is unknown; A level that mixes puzzles and combat as you're essentially "fighting" a creature you're inside of; The level itself looks surreal and gameplay consists of weak points (Some shootable, others punchable and others are even meant to be jumpable) and avoiding hazards and traps to stay alive; The player may also find specific artifacts to make them closer to defeating the final boss; This idea still needs more development.

There's also this line from the same post: "the planet Jupiter has an Icon of Sin head growing out of it and you can see that (Reference to TNT Revilution and the next “Doomguy uses the BFG10K to shoot a hole in the face of Mars)."

But another idea is making the IOS as the equivalent to something like AM from "I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream" like a giant tech thing with the IOS head and it uses dark magic to play tricks and challenge Doomguy, as if Earth became its personal playground.

Or even have the IOS' face show up on screens and dimensional holes/portals like Korax from Hexen.

ALSO, imagine this: VEGA vs VIOS, "God" vs "Devil" as ultradimensional "virtual" yet "real" beings using otherwordly powers against each other...

Yet another idea: If someone does a spriteset of the VIOS and want to add extra angles, maybe use the collectible doll of the IOS in Eternal as reference.

[bnhaobservation]

Ramblings about BNHA chap 374

Chap 374 dropped by and here I am, talking about it.

The chapter is mostly about rearranging the players on the table now that Kurogiri is awake, but it also contains a brief bit that offers some point to ponder in form of a… weather forecast.

So okay, I’ll go with the weather forecast first because is no action and more food for thoughts than anything else.

At first the whole thing seems a random information, as we’re told the flammagenitus cloud that formed over Japan is continuing to grow at an alarming rate and could influence the weather of north America.

This fact can be viewed also as an attempt to parallel a situation that’s recurring in small and big scale in the manga.

In big scale we’ve seen that all the other countries have decided to pull back from helping Japan… but what’s happening in Japan might end up affecting them if it grows out of proportions.

In small scale the story showed us, more than once how society left behind, pretended not to see some people… some kids and then this came back to bite them. We’ve seen it with Tenko, with Himiko, with Touya, with Jin. They were all left behind, abandoned, forgotten and grew up to become threats to society.

“You heroes hurt your own families just to help complete strangers! You heroes pretend to be society’s guardians. For generations you pretended not to see those you couldn’t protect and swept their pain under the rug. It’s tainted everything you’ve built. That means your system’s all rotten from the inside and crawling with maggots. It all adds up little by little over time. You've got the common trash, all too dependent on being protected, and the brave guardians who created the trash that needs coddling. It's a corrupt vicious cycle. Everything I've witnessed... This whole system you have built has always rejected me. Now I'm ready to reject it. That's why I destroy. That's why I took this power for myself. Simple enough, yeah? I don't care if you don't understand... That's what makes us... Heroes and Villains.” [Chap 281]

All that was swept under the rug collected together and became a giant flammagenitus cloud that can affect the weather of the whole nation and well beyond it, spreading to the whole world.

There’s more parallels in this bit.

Technically a flammagenitus cloud is a dense cumuliform cloud produced by the intense heating of the air from the surface (heating, in this case is courtesy of Touya, Shouto and Endeavour’s fires which they’re using at their maximum power). Flammagenitus clouds contain severe turbulence, manifesting as strong gusts at the surface, which can exacerbate a large conflagration, can produce lighting, can contain temperatures well below freezing, and the electrostatic properties of any ice that forms may also play a role. They can end up helping or hindering a fire. That’s because, with their rain they can extinguish the fire but, if the fire is too large and keeps on feeding the cloud, it can turn into a cumulonimbus flammagenitus, which may produce lightning and start another fire or just cause sudden increase of wind that would spread the fire.

This might hint at how the situation is arrived to a point where they either manage to deescalate it (rain snuffing the fire out) or it’ll only be able to grow progressively worse (the fire spreading and more fires being started).

Honestly I expect it’ll rain for no other reason that since Touya can’t cry due to his burned tearducts, the visual has used various tricks to hint at how he’s crying inside, like him losing blood or the hair-dye remover dripping from his eyes. So it’ll make sense the story will use the recurring trope of using rain in place of tears for a character that can’t cry.

But whatever, more pondering ahead.

Fantranslation and official translation differ a bit here.

The fantranslation implies there’s a parallel between the flap of a butterfly wings in brazil that set off a tornado in Texas and the idea that the birth of the luminescent baby might have set off the fall into chaos of the society, while the official translation not so much as it quotes the butterfly and the tornado but then has the forecaster just wonder if the society originated by the baby is just doomed to fall into chaos (without explaining what caused it).

I’m not sure which is the best translation but, personally, I prefer the fan one because it connects the two points better and because in this way it offers up food for thoughts on a theme that’s discussed often. In fact ‘the flap of a butterfly’s wings’ that’s causing society to fall into chaos wasn’t the birth of the luminescent baby…. but the reaction of the people to it. When Re-Destro talks with Shigaraki about Destro he narrates how Destro’s mother saw a society with plenty of prejudices against Meta attack her child day after day, how she defended her child’s ability labeling merely as a quirk and begged people to let the world be a place where her child could live freely… only for her voice to be lost in a sea of scorn and sneers and her to end up killed by the Anti-Meta mob. [Chap 232]

It’s no surprise that Destro grows up in a way that’s similar to Shigaraki, wishing to destroy the society that rejected him and deprived him of the only one person who stood up for him and that, to boost the confidence in himself, he came to see the Meta as superiors, they had to rule over the normal people, not the other way around.

Putting the blame on the birth of an innocent baby is convenient, it invites discrimination again because it claims this happened because the baby was different, when instead it was just society who was unable to care for the ones that were different.

But whatever, with two different translations, hard to say if she’s just being fatalist or offering us points to ponder.

Then she says:

‘Sekai wa hitori no chikara kaeraremasu’

世界は一人の力変えられます

“The power of a single man can change the world”

The sentence reminds me of Touya’s:

‘Hitori no ningen no tatta hitotsu no shūnen de sekai wa kaerareru’

一人の人間のたった一つの執念で世界は変えられる

“A single person with a single conviction has the power to change the world.” [Chap 267]

…which is a call back to what Stain believed:

‘Nani o nashitogeru ni mo shin'nen… Omoi ga iru’

何を成し遂げるにも信念… 想いが要る

“To truly accomplish anything one needs will… and conviction.” [Chap 48]

And it makes sense Touya, a Stain’s follower, would adopt a similar mindsetting although I always found interesting though how Touya was never around to hear Stain say such words to Shigaraki and in the video spreading in the net he didn’t talk about conviction, just about how fake heroes and petty criminals need to be culled out for the sake of a better society, and, even if late he claimed to have seen the battle, which maybe might mean he saw it on person and not just on tv, Stain didn’t talk about conviction during it either (though it would have been fun if it was Touya who filmed Stain since he seems to like to use the net to spread videos…).

Anyway the forecaster focuses on ‘strength’ instead than ‘conviction’. There’s an odd focus on her, but I’ve no idea if this means more than just paying attention to her words or she’s meant to matter later.

But still she declares she’s opposed to the idea of pandering to All for One, something she clearly wasn’t meant to say in tv. Way to go, Meryl, you might be a mob character but, at least, you aren’t siding with All for One.

Whatever, now we can move to the action.

So we’ll go back to Kurogiri and Present Mic exchanging a glance… before everything goes black, a hint Kurogiri might have activated his power.

The text the fantranslation translated that was meant to be near the chapter implies Present Mic didn’t manage to reach Shirakumo as Kurogiri is awake now… though there’s still a bit of SHirakumo in him due to how he spoke so… I wonder if Present Mic truly failed.

We move to Kamino ward where Touya and Shouto were fighting.

Touya is actually producing even more heat, confusing everyone because, as Shouto points out, everyone has gone beyond their limits but Touya is actually the only one who’s still standing. Shouto doesn’t get why even though both he and Touya share Endeavour’s blood. Even Burning doesn’t get how Touya can stand since his body should have been super weak to fire and yet he’s still keeping it together.

I’ve made my speculations in this post… because yes, since everyone is remarking how it should have been impossible for Touya to stand, it can be that there’s more to it than him merely having a strong will. Did someone tampered with his body? Even Ujiko wasn’t sure how he survived that long since they expected him to die in a month without their aid…

To be honest, Touya actually understand he can’t keep this up for long, that if he keeps fighting with Shouto his body won’t hold up and he won’t reach Endeavour who’s at Gunga, rather far from him. So he’s willing to leave the battle and try to fly to where Endeavour is.

Shouto decides to try to stop him by… reasoning with him? Nope, just by attacking his pride, telling him if he leaves him alive despite wanting to kill him, he would be the half-backed one.

Really Shouto, that remedial course you took to get your license didn’t teach you anything about the importance of reaching the heart of people? Okay, okay, I know, the setting isn’t right, there’s a lot of pressure and it’s easier to think the best solution is to beat up people instead than try to reach for them, especially since Touya isn’t a cute kid you might feel sympathy for but a stranger who accidentally shares your same blood and who’s a villain you believe out to kill everyone. But I really want to see you move from this stage. Okay, maybe next time.

I don’t know if Touya considered coming back because Skeptic interrupt the scene by telling him that he comes bringing him great news as Touya has just won a free ride for Gunga, courtesy of Kurogiri’s warp power.

Back at U.A. Flying fortress where Midoriya and Shigaraki/AFO are fighting the strong wind, likely caused by the flammagenitus cloud (remember? Wind can be a side effect) is giving Manual troubles to control the water that wets Monoma’s eyes. Monoma though is stubbornly determinate to enter in history by doing his job so he’s not going to give up.

Shigaraki/AFO… doesn’t really look well… and I think it might be starting to rain there.

A warp hole (likely always courtesy of Kurogiri) opens up behind Monoma and Co and Present Mic and Shigaraki’s  hand fly out of it. I’m not really sure why it’s Present Mic who flies out of it, I mean, if there’s no Shirakumo inside Kurogiri it was more useful to leave Present Mic to the hospital than bring him along and it feels weird Present Mic would have anticipated Kurogiri in entering inside the warp gate.

I would have expected him to manage to follow Kurogiri, not to anticipate him.

Still, differently from what he did with Touya, who only got to see a portal for Gunga, it seems this time Kurogiri created a portal between the hospital and U.A. so he likely plans to reach Shigaraki and, possibly, to move at Gunga only later. We’ll see.

Meanwhile I believe AFO is starting to give one of his talks and hey, as usual he nails something important.

“The experiences of one’s youth determine the entirety of one’s life. And more than anything else I place faith in a person’s emotions. The feelings he harbors for his friends, after leading such a dark life…”

AFO comes out as such a huge child predator since he basically manipulated the experiences Tenko went through, grooming him, and tried to do the same with Touya and, I bet, with Spinner and Himiko (albeit they weren’t children anymore).

Anyway what he says is important, the story surely remarked how people’s experiences formed them and how the villains became villains because they had negative experiences. I do wonder if the story will also work this way for AFO, or he’ll just remain a plain evil guy, evil for the sake of being evil. We’ll see.

Anyway AFO is all happy because Spinner managed to wake Kurogiri up and claims since he was sure the heroes kept Kurogiri in the dark he put a microchip in Shimura’s hand (meaning the hand that survived was hers).

So… hum… since Kurogiri reacted to it… is there a computer of some sort inside him? Possibly but still how did AFO managed to insert in it the info Kurogiri needed? I mean, he couldn’t tell him he would have ended up in Gunga while Shigaraku would be in U.A. flying fortress when he didn’t know yet they would send him there… unless it was Skeptic who actually passed all the info through the microdevice implanted in Shimura’s hand, same as he communicates with Touya through a device in one of the Nomu? So basically this device is nothing else but a transmitter? I don’t know.

Anyway, at that point Touya arrives to say ‘hi’ to his father. I know people in the net joked that Endeavour is AGAIN not looking at him but actually, although his eye his shadowed and his head lowered, I would say he’s looking up so he is probably FINALLY seeing him… but this doesn’t really matter much if he only watch and don’t really see.

Touya isn’t the only one joining the battle as we have TWO TWICE coming there and calling for Hawks. Dear Jins, you’re probably a clone and Himeko transformed but still, I SO MISSED YOU! SO GLAD TO SEE YOU AGAIN even if you’re not the original!

AFO has the time of his life informing Hawks of how ‘the death of that sad, sad man’ (aka Jin) made vengeful ‘a young woman’ (aka Himeko) while ‘the man who would overrun the world to make good of his grudges’ (aka Touya) gave her the tool she needed to take her revenge.

I mean, has AFO a problem with names? Why he has to go with those long descriptions? It’s more stylish?

Okay, just joking, he probably wants instead to tie in with what he previously said about emotions and how he places faith in them especially in the ones of people who led sad lives (and he’s always there to help to make such lives even more miserable). Jin was sad and Himeko and Touya are angry and vengeful.

So, since he enjoys making people miserable he turns the blame on Hawks, basically challenging him to think at what would have happened hadn’t he killed Jin.

Now… fan translation and official translation differ again because the fan translation says:

“We have to kill HIM! Now!!”

While the official one says:

“Kill them!! Right now!!”

So ‘him’ or ‘them’?

The Japanese text says:

‘Soitsu o korose! ! Imasugu! !’

そいつを殺せ！！今すぐ！！

And ‘soitsu’ (そいつ) means that person, that guy, that fellow, that one. So no, it’s not a plural. Hawks wants to make their priority to kill 1 person. Feel free to speculate if it’s Twice (again!), Touya or AFO but he’s talking about focusing on one person.

Now it wouldn’t be so easy to kill AFO or Touya that fast so I’ll go and assume the target is again Twice, especially since Twice can make an army of AFO and Touya.

It’s not surprising Hawks isn’t thinking of doing something else, not only despite time going by he had not the time or the will or the chance to regret what he had done but had to defend his actions as the best course, but now one of the Twice he’s facing might not even be a Twice clone but Himeko, who he never planned to save and, even if the other is a clone, well, Twice made clear Hawks’ actions screwed up whatever chance they had at friendship. Twice rejected Hawks as the latter betrayed him and endangered his friends in the league, the people Twice wanted to protect the most, managing to come out as another one of those heroes who didn’t care about them but threw them to the wolves.

Now, personally, I’m pretty sure deep down Hawks regrets what he did, but that’s at the moment buried so deep inside him that he might not even be aware of it.

So, facing Jin again, as well as facing Jin’s friends, how they loved him and why he loved them back, might help him to solve the whole issue. We’ll see though.

Hawks always wanted to be a hero who saved people the way he was saved… he has a lot of inner good inside… but at the same time he’s also trying hard to escape to his association with his father, Takami, which AFO keeps on exploiting by continually calling him ‘Takami’.

Okay, AFO says ‘Takami-kun’ but still that’s a deliberate choice to use his surname. He doesn’t call the other heroes by surname, he refers to Enji as ‘Endeavour’ or ‘Number 1’ not as ‘Todoroki’ and the same goes for All Might and Gran Torino.

AFO wants Hawks to feel shackled to his father’s memory, to remember his heritage. He’s the son of thief Takami, not Hawks, the hero, and he kills because he’s the son of a killer.

And yes, now Hawks is thinking this is the right thing to do, kill and get rid of the problem, but I’m curious to see if he can rise above this, if he can really be saved from the legacy of his father. When he was a child his mother asked him why did he have those wings, associating them with how he was his father’s son and should use them to commit crimes like his father did. Hawks tried hard to use his wings to be a hero instead likely also as a way to dissociate from him, and the commission helped, hiding out his past and his name and Hawks even made a speech about how they shouldn’t dwell on the past.

Now though, his wings are mostly burned, courtesy of Touya and what remains is him.

I wonder if this will become a chance for him to come to terms not only with how killing Twice wasn’t a great decision but also with his past from which, for now, he only tried to bury. But well, we’ll see.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 1,149

[S] Enter.

Storyboards: http://readmspa.org/storyboards/01149.swf.html

Song used: Sburban Jungle by Michael Guy Bowman

Author commentary:

Here is the end of act animation, [S] Enter. Panels are sliding around the screen. They're showing stuff. Things are happening. It's exciting.

0:47 - Look at how I was still switching her shirt logo around even in the middle of a Flash. This is called attention to detail.

1:05 - And there goes the bed. If only the bed could have burned to death on its Quest Bedbed.

1:20 - Look at Dave putting all this stuff in these terrible inconvenient locations. What a jackass!

1:28 - The real hero of Act 3: a 20 foot tall, 10 ton stone statue of Zazzerpan the Learned. Those Zazzerstats are canon btw.

1:41 - Rose was eager to play this game in the first place so she could resurrect her dead cat, AND GOD DAMMIT THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S GOING TO DO. All these flaming tornadoes and flying wizards can go to hell.

1:57 - There's this whole spiel on Sburb's "entry items" and what they mean, which I won't get into now. But here's another brief spin on it. John's was an apple from a tree, obviously like the one from the bible. In that tale, the apple represented a temptation to Adam and Eve, and trouble was a-lurkin' if they took a bite. In retrospect the liquor bottle similarly represents a kind of temptation in the context of this character arc.

2:31 - Usually with acts in Homestuck, there's something that happens at the end that brings the act back full circle. Act 3 started with Nanna's inscription to John, and here we see when and how that was written, while getting a very brief glimpse of what's under the clouds and thus a peek at the much bigger story waiting for us to discover.

2:36 - One wonders if she was aware Dave had given Jaspers some useful tentacles to bail her out with before she jumped. It was quite a leap of faith. Or just outright suicidal. The Lalondes and Striders are basically all cuckoo bananas. But anyways, let's reflect on the teamwork involved to make everything work. Rose bringing Jaspers back, Dave making him a princess, Jaspers saving Rose… God teamwork is great. So is friendship. If your story isn't in some way basically about friendship and teamwork, you are failing hilariously at your job.

2:50 - In [this part of the] montage we see a very quick rewind of WV blasting off in his big can. Which turns out to be the cork of a huge bottle, the unsurprising shape of the exile station which formed in Rose's crater. Exile station designs are based on the entry item of that location. As if you didn't know that already.

2:58 - Sure cuttin' it close there Rose… My characters never listen to me.

3:01 - The thing being revealed here: Dave's copy of the game has been stored in this lotus time capsule for millions of years. WHAT?? Yes, the same juice-stained copies currently on the roof below his window. How do they get here? This is how most mysteries work in Homestuck. You know a thing is going to happen in the future, but you don't know why or how. So you just keep reading, while screaming.

3:02 - The animation just keeps on going, and the song "Sburban Jungle" sorta bumps it up a notch. John proceeds to climb his house while kicking imp and ogre ass. There are a few moments in the earlier acts which seem to trick you into thinking Homestuck is all about getting cool gear, gaining levels, and kicking ass like you expect to do in such games. This is kind of misleading though. In totality, HS isn't really about ass-kicking at all. It's about presenting awesome fantasy environments and situations in which ass-kicking could THEORETICALLY take place, but very rarely does except in dramatic hot points like this. Instead, those environments serve as backdrops for a huge amount of dicking around on the internet, babbling to friends about feelings, and being a bunch of stupid useless kids struggling to grow up. If you are ever under the impression HS is about anything else, you are invariably in for a world of hurt.

3:25 - The best part of the animation is when John just runs up and clocks a hapless imp in the face. Don't even try to tell me it isn't.

3:29 - Whereas this imp gets inadvertently Cosby'd into the pit. You'd think John would later find the Cosbytop lying around somewhere down there, but I don't think that's what happens. I think he just makes another one?? Why the hell not. The great thing about alchemy is it puts very little premium on almost any single object. Except ones which are Plot Critical to be unique, like the game disc, or the matriorb. It's almost like… the game knows when an item is plot critical?? It's almost like… my brain as the author of the story IS the game???

3:34 - Then John boings into the thing. The end.

[ultrcviolet]

𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆  :  𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡  .

the  “  you're loveable , but you're just troubled  ”  chapter  .

A PLACE IN THIS WORLD —   TAYLOR SWIFT  !

❝              i’m alone , on my own & that’s all i know . i’ll be strong , i’ll be wrong . oh , but life goes on . i’m just a girl tryin’ to find a place in this world .  ❞

BSC —   MAISIE  PETERS  !

❝          ��    i am unhinged ! i am scaling all these walls , i’ve gone within . i am both kathy bates & stephen king . i can write you out the way i wrote you in because here’s the thing . you broke me big time . it’s funny & i’m laughing , baby . you think i’m alright , but i’m actually bloody motherfucking batshit crazy ! ❞

CONTROL   —   HALSEY  !

❝              i’m bigger than my body . i’m colder than this home . i’m meaner than my demons . i’m bigger than these bones . all the kids cried out “ please stop , you’re scaring me ” ! i can’t help this awful energy . god damn right , you should be scared of me  ! who is in control ?  ❞

DON’T LET ME GET ME   —   P!NK  !

❝              teachers  dated  me  ,  my  parents  hated  me  .  i  was  always  in  a  fight  ,  'cause  i  can't  do  nothing  right  .  every  day  i  fight  a  war  against  the  mirror  .  i  can't  take  the  person  staring  back  at  me  .  i'm  a  hazard  to  myself  .  don't  let  me  get  me  .  i'm  my  own  worst  enemy  .  it's  bad  when  you  annoy  yourself  .  so  irritating  ,  don't  wanna  be  my  friend  no  more  .❞

EYES OPEN   —   TAYLOR SWIFT  !

❝              so  here  you  are  ,  two  steps  ahead  &  staying  on  guard  .  every  lesson  forms  a  new  scar  .  they  never  thought  you'd  make  it  this  far  ,  but  turn  around  ,  oh  they've  surrounded  you  .  it's  a  showdown  &  nobody  comes  to  save  you  now  .  but  you've  got  something  they  don't  .  you've  just  gotta  keep  your  eyes  open  .  everybody's  waiting  for  you  to  break  down  ,  everybody's  watching  to  see  the  fallout  .  even  when  you're  sleeping  ,  keep  your  eyes  open  .  ❞

GIRL IS A GUN   —   HALSEY  !

❝              it's  a  shot  in  the  dark  ,  i'm  not  a  walk  in  the  park  .  i  come  loaded  with  the  safety  switched  off  .  this  girl  is  a  gun  &  we've  been  having  some  fun  .  i  could  show  you  if  you  turn  the  lights  on  .  this  girl  is  a  gun  .  before  you  know  it  ,  it's  done  &  you'll  be  wishing  that  you  crossed  your  fingers  .  oh  but  god  is  it  fun  when  you  can  have  more  than  one  .  so  lemme  show  you  how  to  touch  my  trigger  .  ❞

I AM NOT A ROBOT  —   MARINA  !

❝              you've been acting awful tough lately , smoking a lot of cigarettes lately . but inside , you're just a little baby . it's okay to say you've got a weak spot . you don't always have to be on top . better to be hated than loved for what you're not . you're vulnerable , you're vulnerable . you are not a robot . you're lovable . so lovable , but you're just troubled . guess what i'm not a robot .  ❞

I KNOW THE END   —   PHOEBE BRIDGERS  !

❝              out  in  the  park  ,  we  watch  the  sunset  .  talking  on  a  rusty  swing  set  .  after  a  while  you  went  quiet  &  i  got  mean  .  i'm  always  pushing  you  away  from  me  ,  but  you  come  back  with  gravity  .  when  i  call  ,  you  come  home  .  a  bird  in  your  teeth  .  so  i  gotta  go  .  i  know  ,  i  know  ,  i  know  .  when  the  sirens  sound  ,  you'll  hide  under  the  floor  .  but  i'm  not  gonna  go  down  with  my  hometown  in  a  tornado  .  i'm  gonna  chase  it  .  ❞

IT’S ALRIGHT   —   MOTHER MOTHER  !

❝              it's  alright  ,  it's  okay  .  it's  alright  ,  it's  okay  .  you're  not  a  monster  ,  just  a  human  &  you  made  a  few  mistakes  .  it's  alright  ,  it's  okay  .  it's  alright  ,  it's  okay  .  you're  not  gruesome  ,  just  human  &  you  made  a  few  mistakes  .  it's  alright  ,  it's  okay  .  goddamn  ,  i  throw  a  brick  right  through  the  window  of  my  life  .  ignored  the  signals  ,  i  am  high  and  drunk  on  ego  .  can't  see  straight  so  i  just  feel  my  way  around  .  i  am  touching  ,  i  am  grabbing  everything  i  can't  be  havin'  .  i  am  broken  down  in  shame  .  ❞

RENEGADE   —   TAYLOR SWIFT  !

❝              are  you  really  gonna  talk  about  timing  in  times  like  these  ?  &  let  all  your  damage  damage  me  ?  carry  your  baggage  up  my  street  ,  make  me  your  future  history  .  it's  time  .  you've  come  a  long  way  ,  open  the  blinds  .  let  me  see  your  face  .  you  wouldn't  be  the  first  renegade  to  need  somebody  .  ❞

THE OUTSIDE   —   TAYLOR  SWIFT  !

❝              i didn’t know what i would find when i went looking for a reason . i know i didn’t read between the lines & baby , i’ve got nowhere to go . i tried to take the road less travelled by , but nothing seems to work the first few times . so how can i ever try to be better ? nobody ever lets me in . i can still see you , this ain’t the best view . on the outside , looking in . i’ve been a lot of lonely places , but i’ve never been on the outside .  ❞

[isa-ghost]

Outdoor Headcanons!

For the egg oc event run by @which-qsmp-egg-would :D

Here's Outdoor's ref!

He has 3 parents, 2 dads and 1 mom!

Trilingual! He speaks English, Spanish, and a secret third thing! (It's Elvish :P)

You bet your ass he's off somewhere making weird forest soups in A Bucket He Found. All other campers are welcome to join him. Let Them Cook!!

The second he's clean he's going right back outside to reacquaint himself with the soil.

Loves sunshine and thunderstorms equally. Please for the love of gods watch him closer when it's storming, he WILL go out to romp in puddles and watch lightning. He's got that Midwesterner syndrome, tornadoes and severe weather ain't shit 😤

He made the lil clusterfuck sun/flower/twig thing on his head (in egg form) himself! :D

He was meant to be named Outside by his parent because Ha Ha Almost Egg Pun. And then he was almost named Scout but he refused that one too because it's too basic. So he settled on Outdoor. No pun, not basic. Perfect.

The above probably makes it pretty clear, but he's a very headstrong egg! While he isn't exactly an anarchist and is by no means a brat, Outdoor knows what he wants and what he likes and you better have a worthy tradeoff to get him to do something he doesn't want to. He only cooperates via compromises, no "or elses."

LOVES to play pretend and roleplay. He's almost guaranteed to get a whole LARP game going with the entire camp. Or a good ol game of tag. He thrives on chasing people around. Hide and seek's fun too but with eggs? Too much can go wrong. (Side eyes a certain bear)

Outdoor has some. Um. *clears throat nonchalantly* Fa͝mil͘y ̧M͜e̸di̢c͝al His͢to̧r̀y̴ to be aware of, but he would actually really prefer if the average camper wasn't aware. His parent has informed the counselors and other relevant camp staff to ensure both Outdoor and other people at the camp are safe, happy, and healthy! Please do contact his parent for further questions via [my askbox]!

He has a twin sister, but she's too shy to join him at camp :(

Given that Chayanne is my favorite egg I am obligated to make my son Also a kick-ass little protector. But like. He does it himself, there's no family pressure behind it.

He has a temper. But hes been raised to have strong self-control in this regard and reserves it only for people or things that deserve it. Totally unrelated, I would not put it past him to bite Federation workers,,,,

He would be SO DOWN to go ghost hunting with other eggs, if any of them are brave enough.

Watches anime, but is super slow with getting through a show because most of his time is devoted to, well, being outdoors.

He used to loathe door puns (for somr reason people will call him Door for short and he hates it) but then he started owning it and so help him, if you make a particularly bad one, he will find the nearest door and start spam opening/closing it while making hard eye contact.

LOVES swimming, please bring him to the nearest lake. He also loves wading in creeks and such looking for neat rocks and little critters like frogs.

Can do a backflip. Will find any excuse to show people how he can do a backflip. Please watch him do a backflip, his parent taught him how to do it. His parent is so cool.

He has the dumbest humor. It's his parent's fault. Sorry but [reverb burp/fart] is peak humor.

This child is so full of ADHD. Like SO full. And it shows, he's very much the hyperactive type. He also vocal stims, which, if not a meme he currently can't get enough with, is probably some kind of bird call or other wildlife noise. His biggest and longest-standing hyperfixations are on birds (esp corvids & raptors) and big cats!

[thetristoneera]

the Faculty: There are two extra 30 Year Olds in this group.  That’ll be Gretchen Weisz & Korazo Entei.  These are six key faculty members that are very present in the health of this university.   Quinn Gleaux (A Dean of Admissions) Chef Errox (A Martial Arts Collegiate Instructor) Gretchen Weisz (Dean of Academic Structure) Eiliro Stallion (Cafeteria Head of Operations & Five Star Chef) Dierra Loso (Language Collegiate Professor) Languages of Spanish, Portuguese, English, Saudi, French, Russian, Cantonese, Kanji, Italian, Inuit & Finnish… Korazo Entei (A High Ranking Police Officer & Dean of Safety And Enforcing) He is Officer Fifth’s Partner from time to time & yes they grew up in Loudsend together…

Lavurius: (In year 0, humans have existed for 3,000 years before Instruments of Life emerged to guide humans into a better humanity than theirs.  Making it Year 11527 for truths & honor purposes.  In Year 3333, was when the Phenomenon began.  In the same year, surviving family members of those that were slain for the greater good; created Lavurius the Coven.  Dead set on finding a way to stop unexplainable deaths of everyone born in a specific year, made their power insatiable.  But they would be shooting in the dark for a long time.  A highly long time because the amount of power they were using would take eons of development to equate to the Instruments.  With that day finally being here, will they finally uncover the truth behind yearly genocides?  With them all being immortal, their main motive in life is super natural justice.  The group consists of twins where three of them are the younger or older of their pairing.  Being born before the new year or of the next new year spared them.  Witnessing their twin die, was clear motivation to help the strongest league against the phenomenon.  These six are known as Reign Doubly.  Naja is the mage of this unit; all in all, there are more mages than other members but in their case…) Vakyat of Zimbabwe Naja of Thailand Umyrog of Greece Othezul of Chile Zeaux of New Zealand Kraed of Canada / They all met in college, attending Crediteria University over in Scotland…

Instruments of Life: (In year 11527, the original humanoid time frame; they are some of the surviving 11,000,000 humans.  About forty percent of the world is covered with blackened goo & that’s no good for any carbon based life form.  There are more than enough scientific leagues; trying to reverse the atrocities of humanity leading them to a deadopia.  They are all from different corners of the world but all have the same mindset; the Golden Rule.  How it’s nowhere to be found, will magically unite these six; making a savior group.  They were are all connected to the six most powerful scientific leagues.  The secrets they know will have them creating perfect immortality with a god complex of rebirthing the world.  They will go to the Big Bang, they will sleep off eons of time; waiting for humans to evolve, to guide them to the ultimate light.  Without ever showing themselves, they will eventually come up with a method of peace by killing off prideful humans.  The deadliest emotion of them all…  They will perfect humanity by ensuring no one creates any lore around a tyranny based society.  This will guide humans away from their negative nature of do all harm in the name of one person, fear &/or self preservation.  Guiding humans with love has marginally made the rebirth world; more advanced than the real world.  Advanced intellectually, emotionally, architectually, scientifically & the most important; lovely.  They don’t have statues, they don’t have no monuments; but all humans know, they exist as the thing that kills off humans born from a certain year.  No matter the day & age, no matter how old they physically are; you will get the axe if your amount of pride is futile. Renkler (Serial Killer & FBI Agent) of USA Khalloz (Marines Weapons General) of Germany Gardulz (Hypnotist & Entertainer) of Italy Tornado (Experimentalist & Erowologist) of New Zealand Amikka (Erowologist & Data Analyst) of Brazil Nejisam (Sociolist & Endologist) of Morocco