#i fear i didnt give him enough bottom lashes

[yeahiguess3232]

Sometimes when I am sad I look at vintage, vaguely homoerotic photographs...

one inspired me to draw these four old man. (they got this done earlier on in their journey)

I miss them.

[thehollowprince]

Slightly random TFATWS question here, but I'd be interested in your take on it. If the point of the supersoldier serum is that it essentially amplifies your existing qualities and makes you More of what you already were - as Erskine says, good becomes better, bad becomes worse - then how would you say it's affected Bucky? His actions as the WS were the result of Hydra's brainwashing, not the serum, and he doesn't seem to be affected by it in the way Walker or even the Flagsmashers are.

It's difficult to say for a variety of contributing factors.

Factor #1: Steve Rogers (and Johann Schmidt)

It's important to remember that both Steve and Red Skull were the only two that got Erskine's serum directly. And, if Schidmt got the same style of treatment as Steve did, then they were both the only two that we saw who got multiple doses of the serum, as seen below...

Steve was also the only one we saw who got the combination serum + Howard Stark's Hottie Machine, so we don't know what effect that tech might have had on administering the serum.

Every other person that we saw (or didnt see) had a single dosage of a modified serum - an attempt at recreating Erskine's original success. Such as, the Flag Smashers...

... or John Walker...

... or even the five other Winter Soldiers.

The only exception to this that I can remember was Emil Blonsky from the Incredible Hulk (I know we all try to forget that movie), because he had multiple doses over multiple treatments of whatever version of the serum Ross had cooked up trying to recreat Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner.

And much like Steve (and presumably Johann) it required extra steps to administer than just a shot or an IV drip, relying on Gamma Radiation to help "complete" the process.

The bottom line here is that, there have been no two versions of the serum that were the same that were administered in the same way. Steve Rogers was a unique occurrence in more than one way.

I also have a theory that the original serum was derived from the heart-shaped herb from Wakanda, given the similarities between the two when it comes to the enhanced physicality.

Maybe Erskine and Schmidt got their hands on an herb and refined it until it was just the physical (blue), excluding the more mystical attributes (red), such as the aspect that allowed Wakandan kings to communicate with their ancestors. (I have a theory about the heart-shaped herb, too, but I'll save that for another time)

It's also very important to remember that the only super soldier to experience any kind of major side effects was Schmidt.

No other super soldier looked like this

Factor #2: Hydra

Aside from the fact that Bucky didn't receive the same super soldier serum as the others, but whatever concoction that Zola managed to cook up in his attempt to recreate the serum (interesting to note that Schmidt seemed to take a more hands off approach to this, choosing instead to focus on the Tesseract and it's capabilities). As such, Bucky, as we saw him in The First Avenger, didn't exhibit any of the enhanced physical capabilities (or even an enhanced physicality) that Steve did after his experiment. In fact, the only evidence we have to confirm that Bucky had received some version of the serum was the fact that he survived the fall from the train, which we didn't get confirmed until The Winter Soldier.

The combination of Hydra having Bucky for over seventy years and him not presenting any attributes of the super soldier serum until after all says to me that he went through more experiments once he was back in their care, possibly some of the precursors to what they did during the Red Room and Black Widow programs.

Factor #3: Psychological

Now this last one is just my hypothesis, which is what you asked for, but I wanted to get the other variables out of the way first.

My personal opinion here is that, despite what Erskine said, I don't believe there is a psychological aspect to the serum. It is purely physical. The psychological component to these experiments - how the recipients handled their newfound power - was down to the individual. Steve Rogers didn't go through any radical ideology or personality shift. He was the same scrappy kid from Brooklyn who stood up to bullies and refused to back down from a fight, except now he had the muscle to back it up.

Same with John Walker, as controversial as that may sound. We had three whole episodes with Walker before he took the serum, and in that time, we already saw he was quick to anger and had aggressive tendencies. All the serum did was give him the power to back it up.

Earlier, he and Lemar were talking about what they could have done with the serum, saving their fellow soldiers, and we saw in the immediate follow up that Walker was trying to rationalize what happened, telling Sam and Bucky that he had to do it, that he killed a terrorist. That kind of mindset isn't something that can come about over night. That was something conditioned into him by the military, something he later shouted at them during his disciplinary hearing, telling them he was what they made him to be.

The Flag Smashers were fighting for what they believed in, for those the world forgot after the Snap (I refuse to call it The Blip, I'm sorry), and suddebly they had the muscle to stand up against those who would push them down.

Karli in particular was a scared kid backed into a corner, lashing out. Was a lot of what she did was wrong? Absolutely, but she wanted to send a message and used the only means that the governments hellbent on suppressing them seemed to understand. And, as we saw after that first bombing, this extremism wasn't shared by all the Flag Smashers.

It's like all those shows or movies or books where a mousy wallflower is given superpowers or turned into a vampire or werewolf and suddenly they have the power to push back against their oppressors. A great example of this would be the three werewolves introduced in season two of Teen Wolf, those being Isaac, Erica and Boyd, who all went from being shy loners to being cocky and arrogant because they had the power to stand up for themselves physically now.

You give someone power and you'll see who they really are.

To circle back around to the point I've been trying to make (sorry for the scenic route), it's that Bucky never showed any sign of extremism, whether for good or evil. And that had to do with a combination of who he was as a person - he was more or a follower, latching on to Steve and Sam as his guiding star - and Hydra's machinations and manipulations during his time as the Winter Soldier. By the time he was finally free of them, he just wanted to be by himself and deal (or not deal) with his various traumas.

The Bucky that we met at the beginning of The First Avenger was very quickly buried under war and tragedy. Who he was, because of what he went through, changed. And I think that was the point Erskine was trying to make, though he definitely could have worded it better. The serum makes you more of who you really are, shows your true colors, not because of any chemical response, but because of how power has been prioritized in society. The notion that you don't have to fear physical repercussions anymore, because who's strong enough to stop you?

[maybe-your-left]

MAKING A SEX TAPE WITH AD CHARACTER OF YOUR CHOOSING. I WANT SPECIFIC SHOTS, I WANT DETAILS. GIVE THE THIRSTY BITCHES WHAT WE WANT

IT WOULD BE CHARLIE BARBER. this man would fuck you and make it a MASTER PIECE, shown in Art galleries, indie theaters, only fans. TW:NSFW, DOM SUB, SADIST/MASOCHIST

Charlie told you to wear the navy set tonight, and you know that that meant. 

He wanted to use you, abuse you, leave you with deep purple and blue marks that wouldn’t fade for weeks. 

You made sure everything was perfect, setting up the camera in the play room, Charlie liked to watch himself fuck you. Watch your submission whenever you were gone, when he had to keep his cock warm himself. 

His oxford shoes clicked on the hardwood, pushing the door open with his pointer finger. Dressed in a dark navy suit, looking like a full course meal all by himself. Your mouth watered as you took him in, he was so handsome. Body chiseled by the gods, each piece perfectly proportioned. 

Charlie cocked his head towards the camera, flashing between you and the tripod. He stepped over to it, hands in his pockets as he studied the angle. If the light would be just right to catch every drop of your slick. Wanting it to illuminate your glassy eyes when he degraded you for being a whore. 

“Get in position one Kitten.” 

You quickly scrambled off the bed, falling to the floor on your bare knees, perched on your heels. Already your feet were uncomfortable in the matching stilletos, but this is what Charlie wanted. And he always got what he wanted. 

“Hair up,” he commanded, “Look into the camera, mouth open.” 

Obeying without question, your hair now in a high ponytail for him to tug on. Mouth popping open with your tongue lolling out just enough to cover your bottom lip, flashing the camera your wide needy eyes. Charlie hummed in approval, taking in your form. 

“Did you touch yourself today?” 

“No sir,” you spoke, voice wavering as you tried to hide a whine. He didn’t like it when you complained, it would only make the session harder to recover from. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, stepping away from behind the camera. Circling until he was directly behind you, only his waist and down was visible on the screen. His hands ran through your hair, tugging roughly on the length to pull your neck back. Exposing your neck and chest, you held back tears, it wasn’t time for that. He hummed again, bringing his left hand to your face, “Push your tongue against your cheek.” 

You did. 

Charlies face didn’t shift, just caressed the bulge in your cheek. A few strokes before slapping it harshly, you held in a scream. Exhaling harshly as he gave you two more blows, impressed that you didnt bite your tongue in the process. 

“Two.” 

He released you, your ankles cracking as you spun around and bowed to his feet. Bare ass now visible to the camera, the only fabric hiding your dignity was a strip of your thong threading between your cheeks. Charlie fingered the lace, snapping it against you a few times before rubbing circles on your flesh. 

“Here’s what I want Kitten,” he pulled your cheeks apart for the camera, spitting between them to the already soaked lace. “I want you to grab me your bit, and the candles. Then you’ll get in position four on the bed.” 

Silence. 

“Go.” 

You gathered the supplies, being sure to move the camera to the side of the bed, Charlie stood at the foot. Still fully dressed in his suit, he looked less than impressed when you handed him the bit. “Take that off, I thought I wanted you clothed tonight but now I want you bare.” 

Charlie latched the bit, the metal pressed between your teeth like it would to an animal. He grabbed a jar of honey, “Say ah,” then he shoved a slathered hand between your teeth and the metal. Coating your tongue in the sugary substance, your saliva already gathering in the corners of your mouth. He watched you for a moment before smacking your bare thigh, causing you to jump on the bed in excitement. 

You were on all fours, balanced on your forearms instead of your hands. Legs obscenely wide for him, Charlie climbed up behind you. Striking a match to light the candles. You closed your eyes in fear, feeling the heat radiate from the fire as he brought it to the middle of your arch. Sucking in your drool as he began to drip hot wax on your soft skin, before dropping the match into the pool. Briefly singeing your skin, “Don’t move, I don’t want wax on the sheets whore.” 

“Look at the camera,” Charlie barked, dripping more and more over your sensitive skin. Another drip, another match, over and over. He dragged a melting candle end over your tailbone, causing you to jump forwards. But he was took quick, yanking back on the reign that was connected to your bit, “Did I say you could move?” 

You shook your head, pushing back onto your forearms. Softly rocking your bare skin into his trousers. Eyes rolling back when you felt his erection straining, nothing turned you on like knowing he was hard for you. 

Charlie dropped the candles, bringing both palms down on your cheeks. A series of smacks against your burnt skin, you wailed behind the gag. Honey pouring from your mouth as you begged for you and for it to stop. 

Finally, you heard his belt come loose. Followed by the sound of a zipper, his cock splattering in a puddle of spit on your ass. “Grab me the crop.” 

The fucking crop. 

It was sharp, and left marks that hurt.

Charlie took it without thanks, rocking his cock inside your cunt. Momentarily giving you pleasure without pain, he fucked into you. Letting out moans as he bottomed out. He yanked back on the reign, forcing you to bend in half for him. The crop now trailing against your abused skin, a faint red line following in its wake. 

“No cumming until I say.” 

The video got everything, every strike, sound, and thrust. Charlie tore you open, yanking you back each time he pushed you forward, your cervix was surely being bruised. Each time you wailed he would snap the crop against your skin, lashes tearing your skin open. The mix of his spit, sweat, and the wax stinging the wounds and he kept a brutal pace. 

“You love this,” He rasped, another round of bloodied hits followed by his cock twitching inside you. “You love it when I fuck you like this, like the masochist you are.” 

You tried to nod, tears flowing down your cheeks. Mixing in with your snot and the leftover honey that dribbled down your chin. You loved it, loved him so much. Loved every hit and bruise, he could do anything to you and you would thank him. 

Every time. 

The session lasted almost two hours, cumming over and over on each other as he cut in new wounds. His sadistic lust mingling with your painful whimpers, when he was finished he took you on your back. Finally naked, so he could feel your sore skin against his own. 

The bit leaving your face swollen and sore, but he still whispered how beautiful you were like this. Completely at his disposal, his little cock warmer. Taking all his cum, keeping it safe in your cunt. 

“I love my whore,” Charlie moaned, your legs locked on his shoulders as he pounded into you. “You’re my good whore aren’t you?” 

“Yes-fuck-yes sir!” you cried, rubbing your clit raw as you clenched around him for the final time. Juices squirting all over his cock, creaming over the length as he groaned above you. Plush lips kissing your sweaty forehead, “Take it, take my cum.” 

Both of you collapsed after, Charlie left his softening cock inside you as he held you. Lazily pressing the stop button on the remote, he needed to give you all his attention. Carrying you into the bathroom, even though both of your bodies felt like jello. 

Kissing and whispers how much he loved you, how good you were, how much he needed you as he washed your tired skin. Rubbing your sore muscles after he patted you dry with a soft towel. Placing you on your shared bed, the play room could be cleaned later. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes shutting as you drifted to sleep. 

Charlie’s arms tightened around you, “Anything for you, always and forever.” 

Just as you fell asleep you heard one last thing. 

“I love you.” 

-----

SORRY NOT SORRY i hc Charlie as a fucking sadist okay, i feel like hes worse than kylo. but what can i say? im a masochist 

sadist: a person who takes pleasure in inflicting pain, punishment, or humiliation on others in a sexual way.

masochist: a person who derives sexual gratification from their own pain or humiliation.

TAGGING: @kirah36 @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @desiraypark @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @emeraldsiren20 @dancingmicrobes @relationshipwithmybed @wayward-rose @daddysbabycubb @safarigirlsp @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @caillea @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @callmehopeless @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween

[mssjynx]

If you’re still doing the prompt stuff can you do 20 for ohmtoonz? And if it’s possible can you make it a continuation of Tease???

alpha / beta / omega au

ohmtoonz drabble

20. I don’t think you realise how good at massages you are but I never want you to stop touching me, whether it’s messing up my hair or fixing my collar. Your touch gives me goosebumps and I think I’m addicted.

a/n; i kinda plan to write a specific continuation of tease but i dont want to do it in a drabble- also bc its not an a/b/o fic haha. but i hope you enjoy all the same!

im also somewhat assuming you wanted nsfw but because you didnt say it, ill make it a bit shteamy but not really shteamy ;)

- 

Luke had been staying at Ryan’s house for three days. He was in Chicago for his cousin’s wedding and instead of staying in a hotel like he’d planned, Ryan had offered his own place to stay. Of course, the alpha wasn’t about to refuse; he’d waited for the day he got to meet Ryan in person and he wasn’t about to give up possibly his only chance. 

So despite the nerves in his stomach, he packed up his stuff and got on a plane. The taxi to Ryan’s address was so nerve-wracking that the cab driver had to wind down all the windows in order to breathe fresh air. Luke gave the guy a hefty tip in apology before turning his attention to the house. 

He waited outside Ryan’s front door for ten minutes. Questions were flooding his head, second guesses; what if Ryan thought he was too brash in person? Was Ryan a beta like he’d assumed, or was he something else? Would he have a problem with Luke? What would happen if Luke went into rut unexpectedly?

Hearing Delirious’ voice shouting: “Just do it!” in his head, he sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was hard to hear anything other than his own heartbeat but as the door swung open, everything else around Luke disappeared. 

Because it was Ryan. Standing in the doorway, wide green eyes, messy brown hair; Ryan. And all of Luke’s fears flushed away as he took two steps forward and threw his arms around the man. 

Warmth exploded in his chest as Ryan’s arms came up to hook around his back, soft laughter pressing into his shoulder as the alpha buried his face in the side of Ryan’s neck. “Holy fuck,” he said as he breathed in deep. The scent of coffee filled his nose and the underlying spice of omega pheromones tickled at his senses. “You’re real!” He drew back, clutching Ryan by his shoulders as he beamed at the omega. He was shorter than Luke and lazy scruff decorated his jaw from where the man hadn’t shaved in a bit. He wore baggy bed-clothes and the hazy look in his eyes showed he must have only just woken up. 

But Luke couldn’t take the smile off his face if he wanted to. 

Over the following days, his fears, his worries, his concerns; none of them came back as he fit himself into Ryan’s schedule. The air between them was easy and comfortable, there was no weirdness between their second genders, there was no anxieties about meeting each other for the first time. They filmed two videos, playing together and messing around, and binge-watched the first two seasons of Game of Thrones. 

The best part of living with Ryan was undoubtedly the physical contact. 

The omega was more physical than Luke could have ever guessed. He’d touch Luke’s arm to get his attention, grab at his wrist to lead him to the living room when he wanted to watch TV, run his fingers through the alpha’s hair as he walked past, squeeze his forearm in thanks when presented with a cup of coffee; it was rare for him not to be touching Luke in someway and the alpha found every excuse to explain why he enjoyed it so. 

It was the third night that they both fell asleep on the couch, Netflix turning off after some time of them not responding to its reminders. Throughout the night they’d tangled themselves together and when Luke awoke to movement against his chest, he found himself laying down on the couch with Ryan planted on top of him, cuddling down and snoring softly into his neck. 

There was nothing weird, nothing uncomfortable; nothing but a twinge of happiness in Luke’s lower belly that the alpha hadn’t ever felt before. When Ryan woke, he blinked up at Luke with a lazy smile and laughed off the fact that they’d both fallen asleep mid-episode. He complained about losing their place while hopping off Luke so the older man could go fetch them cups of coffee. 

The rest of the day was like addictive torture because Ryan just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Luke was recording a video for his channel but it ended up being too short because Ryan had dawdled in to watch. Eventually, watching was too boring and the omega had stood beside Luke, humming happily as he kneaded the tense muscles of his shoulders. 

When Ryan had left, Luke practically collapsed against the desk, nerves alight with fire as he tucked his hand beneath his legs. He didn’t know why he was turned on but he couldn’t help it when Ryan was leaning up against his back and touching him like that. 

The omega showed no sign of being aware when Luke emerged for dinner and when Ryan yanked Luke to the omega’s bedroom, he didn’t find any hesitance in pulling the alpha onto his bed where they could sit and watch a few more episodes. 

By the time the third was starting, Ryan was tucked up against Luke’s side, Luke’s arm wrapped around his side and his weight leaning into the alpha. He shifted occasionally, stretching and squirming closer, laughing into Luke’s shoulder. Eventually he pulled Luke’s free hand into his lap and the alpha found it extremely difficult to focus on the TV as Ryan began playing and fiddling with his fingers. 

He nearly exploded when the omega placed their palms together and revealed that Ryan’s fingertips only reached up to the third knuckle of Luke’s fingers. With the TV forgotten, the alpha watched Ryan and when Ryan glanced up at him, their faces were closer than he’d expected. A flush of rosy red doused the omega’s cheeks and Luke felt the sensible side of his brain urge him to laugh it off and turn back to the TV. 

He didn’t. Instead, he found himself encapsulated by the soft shape of Ryan’s mouth, his lips full and pink. When the omega pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, Luke couldn’t stop himself. 

He lifted a hand, his thumb running over that lip and pulling it back out from between his teeth. Shiny and red, there was no going back; Luke tilted his head and dipped forward, watching as Ryan’s lashes fluttered down before he brushed his lips against Ryan’s mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling Ryan’s shaky exhale roll over his lips before he closed the space between them and kissed the omega.

The arm around Ryan’s back tightened as Luke turned into the kiss. The fire itching at his nerves bloomed across his skin as he kept his hand on Ryan’s cheek, holding the man close as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. 

A shiver rolled down his spine when Ryan’s hands crept up his chest, the omega melting against him as Game of Thrones remained forgotten in the background. A soft sigh pressed against the seam of Luke’s lips before the tip of Ryan’s tongue was sliding along Luke’s bottom lip; memorising the texture, the taste. 

It was that touch that did it for Luke. He gathered both arms around Ryan’s waist, pulling him flush to his chest and hauling him onto his lap. Ryan all but scrambled on top of him, not wanting to take his time as he seated himself on Luke’s thighs and buried both of his hands in the alpha’s hair. When Luke moved to dip his tongue into the omega’s mouth, Ryan’s lips were already soft and pliant, welcoming him closer, moaning against the contact. 

In seconds, Luke was feeling lightheaded. There was something about Ryan’s touch that drugged him; drove him wild. The omega kissed with a fire Luke hadn’t experienced with any of his exes in the past, and when Luke lured Ryan’s tongue into his mouth, licking the underside of it and grazing his teeth over it, the omega moved into the kiss. He slid his arms around Luke’s neck, pulling lightly on his hair as he sighed into Luke’s mouth and rocked his hips forward. 

They went from light, nervous kissing, to heated making out in what felt both like two seconds and two hours, and when Ryan began rhythmically rutting his hips down against Luke, the alpha believed he really was in heaven. He tightened his grip on Ryan’s waist, pulling back from the kiss to draw in a lungful of oxygen and met the lust that swirled in Ryan’s eyes with a stern look. 

“Ryan-” Before he could say something sensible, something like “We can’t rush this,” or “I don’t want to push you,” or anything respectful and deliberately reassuring, Ryan was biting his lip and gyrating his hips down. 

“I want you to touch me,” he breathed and as he spread his knees wider on the bed to close all the space between their crotches, Luke was hit with the scent of coffee and slick. His mouth watered and his spine curled and the limited self control he maintained was only growing weaker. 

The omega let out a whimper as he ground his hips down again. He leaned in and pressed another kiss to Luke’s lips before catching the alpha’s face with his hand and leaning their foreheads together. 

With a deep breath, he visibly collected himself. “I want you,” he told Luke, straining to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I’ve wanted you for so long and I want you now. Please- Please say you want me too.” 

And with such honest words and such a vulnerable heart, Luke had no other option. Grateful for his own strength, he gave Ryan a careful shove and sent him onto his back on the mattress before he followed. He fit himself between the omega’s thighs and pressed down against his chest, rolling his hips against him, grinding his arousal into the heat between Ryan’s legs. 

“I want you just as bad,” he promised the man and with the grin Ryan wore, Luke couldn’t stop himself from dropping down and sealing their mouths. They’d waited long enough. 

[certifiedskywalker]

One Week - Peter Parker

The six times Peter Parker realized he was falling for you and the one time he did something about it.

Monday.

“So who studied for this test over the weekend?” Your voice, and the sound of your book bag slamming against his desk, jolted Peter from his day dreaming. Looking up he met your gaze and noted how your smile seemed to reach the corners of your eyes. He wished that you smiled like that all the time. He always thought you looked stunning, but when you smiled….you were absolutely breathtaking. To the point where Peter would become speechless.

“I sure didn’t!” Ned chimed in, helping Peter refocus. You nodded at Ned, explaining that you were in the same boat. Peter took the time to catch up with himself; but you were so distracting. Was it something different you wore or was it just that smile of yours? He tried to swallow the feeling that rose up in his throat.

“I don’t think anyone did,” you agreed, then glanced back to Peter. “Except Mr. Smarty-Pants here, of course.” You reached over and ruffled Peter’s curly hair. He let out a breathy laugh, hoping that it masked the pounding of his heart in his chest.

“I-I did, actually. I can give you the rundown if you want?” You smiled at him again, a new glimmer in your eyes, and the same tickling sensation swarmed in Peter’s chest once more. It was your smile.

“It’s alright, thank you though, Pete.” He opened his mouth to protest, offer his time up again. He wanted you to take his time. Peter found himself missing those days where Aunt May would pick you both up from school for play dates. Playground meetings turned to study gatherings as you grew and they felt so rare now. Ever since he had adopted the mantle of Spiderman, Peter felt more and more empty as he spent less of his time with you. It felt, like every time you were with him, he was left yearning for more.

“Y/N, do you maybe want to-” Before he could finish the bell rang, signalling the start of class.

“Good luck, fellas,” you said as you made your way to your own desk. Peter let the words die on his lips as you walked away. Ned watched as his friend’s shoulders fell. He clapped Peter on the shoulder.

“You nervous?” Peter gave his friend a quick glance before letting his gaze fall to you.

“You could say that, yeah.”

Tuesday.

“Peter?” The sound of his name falling from your lips sent shivers down his spine. Even over the booming beat and bassy notes that filled the living room, Peter could pick out your voice with ease. As if he had been finely tuned just for you. Turning, he drank in your visage.

“Hey, Y/N,” he breathed out, smiling at you shyly. You looked like what Peter could only describe as perfection. His eyes scanned up and down your form, wishing that you had come to the party with him. He loved Ned, really, but it was you. It was always going to be you.

“What are you doing here? You’re not a party person!” You wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck, pulling him in for a hug. His arms curled around your torso and he held you in such a way where he could feel your heart beating within your rib cage. He savored the smell of your body wash until you pulled away and he forced himself out of the haze.

“It was Ned’s idea,” Peter explained, gesturing to the boy dancing, or trying to, with a larger group of people. “He told me you were here so…”

“Aw, you came here for me?” A bright blush rose to Peter’s cheeks and he was grateful for the multicolored, flashing lights that hid it from your sight. “How sweet.” He bit his bottom lip and looked down at his shoes. When had just talking to you become so hard?

“Y-Yeah,” he started, but the threat of bile in his throat hindered him from speaking further. You stood before him, waiting for more from him. He scratched the back of his head, trying to summon any type of courage. At first he had thought it was just hormones. High schoolers are basically controlled by their hormones, he had learned that in Health class. This would pass; at least that was what he first thought.

But now, with the way you were looking at him, he knew that this was no passing feeling. He wanted you, he needed you in ways he couldn’t convey. He didn’t want to be your friend, not anymore. He wanted to kiss you, hold you; but there was that wall. The fear that blocked him from you.

“Well, let’s not just stand here!” Before he could question what you meant, Peter felt your hand grab his and begin to pull him after you. The music grew louder with each step and it took all he had not to run away. “C’mon, Pete,” you said, almost sensing his apprehension.

Soon enough, he was standing in front of you again with bodies twisting around the two of you. Your hands still held his and you began to guide his movement. Turning, spinning like his very world, you danced around him. Giggles escaped your throat and Peter wondered if you were laughing at his expression or if you were taunting his heart with the melody of your voice.

Soon, Peter started to move too. Without rhythm, but with you to guide him, he moved. If he closed his eyes, blocked out the hollers of the other around him, Peter could pretend it was just you. Just you and him, like how it was when he dreamed. Just like how he wished it could be.

Then the music slowed, the heavy beat turned into the soft strumming of a guitar. You slowed your movements and let go of Peter’s hand. He yearned to feel it’s warmth again. Peter dared to reach out, his fingers just skimming your forearm. You turned back to him, your eyes sparkling like stars in darkened skies.

“Y/N, I, do you-” Suddenly, you were plucked away from him. Your face turned away to look at whomever pulled you to the side. Peter had seen his face before at school. He had seen him undress you with his eyes and Peter had felt anger towards him. He wanted to save you, but as the music carried on, so did you. You were dancing and it wasn’t with him.

Sadly, Peter walked off of the dance floor. His brow was furrowed as he strode towards the door. As he walked out of the party, he mentally cursed Ned. This was a bad idea. As Peter Parker walked out into the night, Ned watched his friend’s heart fall away.

Wednesday.

People were still recovering from the party Tuesday night. Flash complained of a migraine while MJ mocked those who wore the same clothes from last night to school that morning. Their words fell weakly off of Peter’s numbed shoulders. Anytime Ned wooted and referenced the party, Peter would grumble. It wasn’t until you showed up during lunch that Peter’s demeanor changed altogether.

“Hiya, guys,” you said, taking the empty seat beside Peter. Immediately, he felt the warmth of your body against his arm. “You all have fun last night?” Your question was met with cheer and grunts alike, but Peter just stared at you. People began to reminisce again about the dancing and food. You had fallen silent, suddenly leaning against Peter’s shoulder.

“You okay?” He asked in the hopes of distracting you from the way his breathing had shallowed. You were so close to him now, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm curled around his own. Moving against him slightly, just enough to look into his eyes.

“How are you not exhausted?” Peter let out a small, nervous laugh.

“I-I left early,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear, “after we danced.” You cocked your head, your chin digging into his shoulder a bit.

“Really? You should have stayed. You were a far superior dance partner.”

“Oh-h, sorry. I just figured that the other guy-” A shout caught your attention, drawing it back to the whole of the table. A heavy sigh fell from Peter’s lips as he was cut off once again. It seemed to be a reoccurring thing whenever he tried to talk to you now. He figured it was just his own nerves and continued to watch you. You began to speak to everyone, but you body remained against his. You were so relaxed in this tired state.

Peter found himself lost in features. The fluttering of your lashes to the curve of your lips. He dreamed of a day similar to the current one, where you were still tired. You were sleepy, leaning against him, laughing with him. The tender imagined image in his head lulled him into a false sense of comfort. Feeling an overwhelming wave of contentment, Peter allowed himself a touch. With you head still on his shoulder, he rested his head atop of yours.

You shifted against him, but surprised Peter when you didn’t pull away. Glancing around, Peter saw that MJ had raised her eyebrow at the display and that Ned’s eyes had widened slightly. He felt self-conscious under their gazes, his knee began to bounce beneath the table wildly. Before his cowardice grew further and he pulled away, he felt your hand rest against his leg.

“What is it?” Your voice was quiet, soothing. Peter lifted his head and saw that your eyes were filled with concern. In that moment, he could have swore that his heart had burst inside his chest. You glowed it seemed, with your head cocked to the side as you studied his face.

“Uh, nothing,” Peter said quickly. He turned his face away from you then, anxiously looking towards the clock in the cafeteria. Despite his dismissal, your hand remained on his leg for the rest of lunch. The burning in Peter’s cheeks went unnoticed by you but, with a glance at his friends, Peter knew that they had seen it.

Thursday.

“Hey, Aunt May!” You cheered as Peter pushed the door to the apartment open. You rushed inside and ran to Aunt May’s open arms. Peter smiled at the scene, closing the door with his foot as he stepped inside.

“Y/N! It’s been too long! I hope you’re staying for dinner! We’re ordering out tonight!” Peter furrowed his brows, turning his gaze towards the kitchen. Pots were loaded up in the sink and a pungent odor wafted to his nose.

“The recipe didn’t turn out?” He asked his aunt as you pulled away from her embrace. She let out a huff, causing you laugh lightly. Peter’s eyes drifted to you the moment the sound reached his ears.

“Rachel Ray is overrated anyway,” Aunt May mused, “you kids get to studying. I’ll order the takeout.” Peter nodded and grabbed the bag you had left on the floor. “Y/N, we’re ordering from the place on Marvin Avenue, you know, that small place. You want the usual?”

“Yes, please!” You said, following Peter into his room. He smiled at the fact you were so comfortable with Aunt May, his family. As you both settled in his room, you turned to Peter, that same smile on your face. The one that haunts his thoughts constantly.

“What?” He asked, smiling up at you from his spot on his desk chair.

“She’s right,” you said, “it’s been too long since I've been here. I’ve missed home.” Peter felt his jaw drop slightly, causing him to turn away to compose himself. When he turned back to face you, you were already near his bed and thumbing through the fantasy novel on his nightstand.

“It has,” he agreed and he heard a hum escape you in response. You spun on your heels, still smiling but now facing him again. While you were only a few paces away, merely a leap across his bedroom floor, Peter felt like you were so out of reach. Yet you were right there, standing before him in all your glory.

“P-Peter?” Your voice was shaky when to asked for him, drawing your eyes to the floor for a brief moment before looking at him once more.

“Y-Yeah?” Peter asked, standing up. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. This was it. He was done for, and if not, he would make it so. There was a long pause after his question. You licked your bottom lip, a habit Peter had noticed you do when you’re thinking, and then shook your head.

“Nevermind, we should start studying before it gets too late.” You walked over to the desk and rummaged through your bag, pulling out the book you would be needing. Peter watched on, his whole body thrumming in anticipation. He needed to make a move, he wanted to. Especially now that MJ and Ned were texting him nonstop, pestering him with questions that he only wanted your answers to. Did you love him like he loves you?

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” You turned to met his hazel eyes and Peter noticed how your stance had changed.

“What is it?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. Peter felt his resolve shaking. C’mon dude, you’re Spiderman, just do it, he thought to himself. He took a step closer, so close that your faces were a few inches apart. He saw your eyes dart from his to his lips and Peter tried his best to suppress the rush he got from that small tick. “Peter?”

His name again, in your voice; it sounded like a song. His favorite song. Even when you were both young, whenever you called out to him, a smile like the one on his lips in that very moment would decorate his features. Who knew that you both would have ended up here?

“I wanted to tell you that-”

“Y/N! They’re out of your usual order! Is there something else you want?” Aunt May pushed open Peter’s door, her cell phone pressed against her ear. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed how close the two of you were and Peter turned to hide his blush. “Am I-”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having then, May,” you replied smoothly. Peter, with his outstretched senses could hear the fast-paced beating of your heart. Had he scared you?

“Alrighty then,” May said before leaving his room. He glanced at her nephew one last time before disappearing behind the door. Peter now stood a pace or two away from you, his eyes glued to the floor. Perhaps now wasn’t the time. Maybe there would never be a time.

“What did you want to tell me Peter?” He turned at your question, his eyes meeting yours before he shook his head the same way you had.

“I-I, uh, I forgot. It’s okay, I’ll tell you if I remember later.” He reached out towards his desk and grabbed the books. He settled, crossed legged on the floor and looked up at you expectantly. “Study time?”

You smiled at him again and, damn it, he felt the ache in his heart return. “Heck yeah! Let’s do this!”

Friday.

“So let me get this straight,” MJ sighed, pinch the bridge of her nose, “Y/N came over to your place and you didn’t spill the beans?!” Peter nodded and MJ let out a groan. Ned sighed and shook his head at Peter.

“Dude, you’re gonna regret that!”

“I know, Ned, but I just….it left like, if I did tell Y/N, everything would change.” MJ glared at Peter as he spoke.

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” Peter’s brow furrowed and she continued, “you are friends with Y/N right now, but you want to be more, right?” Peter nodded. “Then things are going to have to change, Parker! I thought you were smart!”

“I know that,” Peter said, raising his hands in the air, “but I don’t want to, I don’t want to lose Y/N. I’m scared that if I say what I want to say that…”

“Pete,” Ned said, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Y/N would never stop hanging out with you. You’re like, best friends, more than you and I! You’ve known each other since grade school, right?” Peter nodded and MJ let out another sigh.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? You’ll be fine, Y/N will be fine, you’ll date and live happy ever after!” She waved her arms to emphasize the joy of it all but Peter frowned.

“Then why do you sound sarcastic?”

“It’s just the way I sound.” Peter raised an eyebrow at her and MJ sighed, looking around the room. Her eyes widened suddenly and Peter glanced in the direction she was facing. “Peter, don’t….”

It was too late. He was already looking. You were leaning a shoulder against the wall, talking with the guy from the party. He must’ve said something funny because you threw your head back, laughing in the way Peter wished he could play on repeat. The two of you continued talking and Peter turned back, his eyes diverted towards the surface of the table.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Ned said quickly, “they’re just talking!” Peter nodded, but his face betrayed him. Y/N was amazing, that guy would be stupid not to make a move.

“You’re right, MJ,” Peter said, standing from his spot, “I’m not that smart after all.” As he moved away from the table, he spared one last glance over his shoulder. You looked beautiful, even if you weren’t right next to him. He would just have to get used to feeling this way.

Saturday.

“Peter?” Aunt May’s voice sounded from behind the locked door of Peter’s bedroom. Rolling to the side of the bed, Peter’s eyes fell on the door. “Peter, can you open this up please? You’ve been in here all morning?”

Begrudgingly, Peter reached for his web shooter. Once it was on his wrist, he shot it towards the door. The webs spread across the brass handle and pulled, undoing the lock on the door. The web fell slack and Peter threw the mechanism to the side.

“It’s open now,” Peter grumbled, turning in his bed again. He heard the door creak open and the soft foot falls of Aunt May’s feet against the floor. Closing his eyes, Peter tried to block the thoughts of you out of his mind so he could hide from his aunt’s, undoubtedly, pestering amount of questions. As he felt the side of his mattress dip under Aunt’s May’s weight, Peter opened his eyes.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” Before he could respond, Aunt May pressed the back of her hand to Peter’s forehead.

“Aunt May,” Peter groaned, “I’m not sick.”

“Then why are you all bundled up in here? I’m sure Ned and Y/N are free.” Peter stayed silent and she nudged him, “C’mon, it’s the weekend.”

“Jus’ not feeling’ it today,” Peter lied. He had been ‘feelin’ it’ all week, and that was his problem. Aunt May sighed and made a ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue.

“You know, it’s like an Aunt superpower; detecting falsehoods.”

“Falsehoods?” Peter questioned, the slightest of smile gracing his lips.

“I can say ‘falsehoods’! It’s a fair use word!” Peter let out a weak chuckle, which only seemed to deepen the creases in his aunt’s face. “Now, what’s really the matter?”

“It’s….It’s Y/N,” Peter began, “I...think I….”

“You love Y/N?” The words that Peter had been trying to voice over the past five to six days flew from his aunt’s lips without a problem. How could it be that easy? Could it truly be that simple?

“Y-Yeah,” Peter stuttered, “I think….yeah, I do.” Aunt May smiled at him, as the weight that had been dragging Peter down finally dissipated. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“Y/N doesn’t know then, I take it?” Peter nodded his head and Aunt May merely smiled. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” she ran her fingers through her nephew’s hair in a motherly gesture, “you are the bravest young man I know. You’re the smartest and sweetest on top of that.”

“Aunt May,” Peter mumbled, his face burning slightly.

“Y/N sees that, trust me. Those study dates you two have, I can feel it.” She leaned down a pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I love you, Peter.”

“Love you too, May,” Peter said, scooting up so he could hug his aunt. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she hummed, smiling down at him. “Just practice safe sex.”

“Aunt May!”

Sunday.

Peter’s feet landed softly on the fire escape outside the window of apartment J17. It was like greeting an old friend as he tapping on the glass. It had been ages since he had done this. Showing up unexpected at your window was a rare treat now that he was Spiderman.

His heart pounded as he waited beside your window. He hoped you were home, that you weren’t with someone else. Peter swallowed his fear, trying his best to calm himself down. His shaking hand lifted once more to rap his knuckles against the glass again. He shifted on his feet, waiting nervously.

Soon the curtains parted and Peter was greeted by your wonderful smile. Pulling the window up, you leaned outside. The breeze that soared through Queens messed with your hair just as it did with Peter’s. In the sunlight, you seemed to glow before him.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” You clambered through the window, meeting him on your fire escape ledge. Carefully, you balance yourself but you leaned to the side awkwardly. Peter grabbed your forearms to steady you, smiling at you brightly.

“I just wanted to see you, is that a crime?”

“No,” you laughed, gripping his arms tightly, “you just surprised me. I haven’t heard from you since Thursday night.”

“Y-Yeah, about that...I was thinking about it. About what I wanted to tell you.”

“You remember it now?” Peter let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head.

“I never actually forgot,” he admitted. Your brows knitted together and Peter smiled sheepishly. He could feel his heart hammering within his rib cage. “I just…”

“Peter,” you said calmly, raising a hand to brush against his face. His mouth fell open slightly at the contact, his eyes searching yours. Your eyes scanned his and Peter felt a rush of affection flood his heart. Now.

“Y/N,” he paused once more, before shaking his head. He would not let fear control him anymore. “I love you. I’ve been trying to tell you all week and I-”

“Peter, just shut up and kiss me,” you interrupted. It was the first time all week that Peter Parker was happy to be cut off. Letting out a chuckle and pressed forward, capturing his lips with yours. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he felt himself do the same. Your hands shifted, tangling themselves in his chestnut curls.

Suddenly, you began to laugh. Peter pulled away from you, resting his hands on your waist to hold you closer to him. You managed to calm yourself slightly, resting your forehead against Peter’s. You were so warm that Peter almost didn’t want to ask.

“Why are you laughing?” “You were trying all week?”

[lokbobpop]

Explode

a sudden and noisy bursting (as of a bomb) : the act of exploding. 2 : a sudden outburst of feeling. explosion

The Latin verb plaudere meant “to make a noise by loud clapping.” When Romans were showing their approval of a performance, the word used was applaudere, from which we get our English word applaud. ... From this word we get our English word explode.

Explode ex plode expl ode ex plod e

Writing explode

To get angry and explode when you feel it building up within you you try to cap it stop it control it and you can but then something is said which I feel is over the edge and i say now do it now i see i know exactly what im doing only when i dont when there is so much energy sometimes you lash out and and you just dont know where it came from like it must of been under tremendous pressure that it comes screaming past you like out of nowhere but i still see i slight very quick choice within doing not as big as others but still there but i feel you just cant take it anymore, i feel this has caused great harm to many where people in this rage have actually killed people when ive need this angry after i feel drain and awful i had unleashed such as bad anger mostly on my daughter who would drive me insane like today im not insane but she is very angry everything i say is anger she angry and nothing i say will calm her down.

Reading explode

When you see on tv the programs or on the news where they blow up a building chimney and it they put all explosions round the bottoms and it implodes in and its amazing to watch these events

The twin towers how they were set off with explosions yes sure plans we smashed into them but that didnt bring them down the explosions within the building I remember watching it and fearing waht could happen i was even pulled over to say something on tv and said i was frighten something would happen to us in hk on tv and wish now i didnt.

Exploding diarrhea yes its true it happens and i have experienced it a couple of time the first being going home after a buffet in hk i was walking to the car after getting off the ferry and just had to go there wasnt anywhere it didnt go it was under so much pressure it was horrible lol and lucky it was night and nobody say and i could hind behind the car i was with the girls and they were shocked lol as was i lol

My dad exploding in anger his face all screwed up with anger i see this is a real problem for me to see faces in anger from his face im feel hurt and i was to let the person now how this is hurting me i need to sort this out within me i see like when it next happens check what’s going on how am i letting this affect me someone else face in anger this would be a good starting point for me to see the movement of poor me how dare you do this to me sort of things comes up now like in special why cant you see that if you could see that you wouldnt do that so you must think im nort special right you must care about me right yes feeling not cared for thats it like unloved because how can you do that to me i thought you loved me yes i see now that i want to be loved all the time never not liked enough to be spoken to like that why? Because it hurts not being liked i fear them leaving me i fear never being loved again why because they are doing this to me why because they have no control over themselves and need to sort that shit out why yes i have completely sorted my own shit out when i pull angry faces i see i do it all the time i can see myself years ago when the girls would drive me mad i would give them that look like i wanted to murder them or something to hurt them look stop it ive had enough look rage sometime so why am i passing that shit on i need to stop first forgive myself then stop my participation within being hurt im thr one thats is hurting me no him not them me.

Saying explode

Temper building up ready to explode

Seeing peoples anger build up and they explode seeing the rage in there faces and feeling fearful of that rage.

When food has gone off in a bag and it explodes and the stench is unbelievable awful and when an egg explodes in the in the incubator and the sink filled the house with unbelievably bad odor for so long your just cant rid of it.

Penis explode when it evacuated

Sf

Does this definition support me no i see i have prob;ens with others anger and still some of my own that can be dealt with so this is a great point bring up and love who am i when someone explodes

Explode un load

Explode

The ripple affect of out true being coming out over this planet the vibration of a new beginning a new age

I will use this word to bring into existence a new me a new earth the explosion of a new age.

[that1badassbitch]

I just watched Mark's playthrough of Hearts and Hero's and I think If I wasn't so emotionally constipated I'd be crying so I just need to get words out.

I'm so glad he played a game like this one. Because it's so important that he knows what he means to us. He's done so much good for so many people and he is so invested in what he does. He's never failed to see us as people and he's always been so ridiculously encouraging it almost makes me sick. But I feel like he still doesn't really understand what that /means/ to us. Or at least to me. He tries so hard to put out content that's funny and fun and shows appreciation for things we do, and he always says it's more than he deserves but that's why we care so much- because he's not entitled, hes not an asshole (except for the jokes, which he only does with people who know he's joking) who thinks we owe him something. He doesn't think we owe him anything, and that's why we want to give it to him. And it scares me sometimes, because I know he's just a guy and the knowledge that so many people look up to him and admire him and rely on him in dark times would crush me. He doesn't want us to see him struggle, but if he can't lessen his own burden and if he tries to take on everyone else's problems too... It scares me to think of how badly it could end. I know how badly it can end. I hope he knows we're here for him just strong as he is for us. I hope he takes care of himself. I hope his fire keeps burning bright. I hope he never forgets that it's not always what you have accomplished that matters- it's that you have to keep trying. Win or lose you have to keep going, even and especially when you really don't want to. You can't give up on yourself and your dreams and you can't stop trying to help people because of one or two or three times it doesn't go as planned. Even if it doesn't go well a million times, it could be the very next try that makes it all worth it. Don't give up on yourself, and don't give up on eachother.

The game itself was so great. I'm incredibly proud of everyone who contributed to it and I hope they all get to do what they love. And I'm not sure if it was intentional, but every character seemed to me like they had a specific fear association, and all of them resonated with me.

Now I'm usually really really good at faking it. But I'm actually really scared. Of a lot of things. Some make sense, and some dont, some I've traced back to events and some seem to come from nowhere, but I'm scared of a lot of things. The ocean. Horses. Darkness. Confrontation. Public speaking. But each of the hero's from the game had a fear association too- Uselessness. Isolation. Cowardice. Hurting people. Abandonment. And failure. I'm gonna call them by their prepicked names and not Mark's keysmash for ease of reference. Because their fears and how they respond to things both resonate with me.

Purple's insecurity, the negativity the terrorlings used against her, was that she was useless. She wasn't good at anything, she couldn't help anyone, she couldn't do anything right. And that hits me because I'm always afraid I'm not actually good at something and that others are pretending I am so they don't upset me. I love singing and my family has always told me I'm good at it (except my brother but that's what big brothers do) but what says I actually am? I'm a good mimic, I can match a song on the radio if I hear it enough but I can't read sheet music, I've made exactly one original piece, vocals only no accompaniment or acapella tones, and it was exactly as good as you'd expect from a nine year old. I love writing and some people tell me it's good but they're all my friends, would they actually tell me if it was bad? And her response is that she apologizes for everything she thinks she might have done wrong.

Jade was terrified of being isolated and alone. What better game than presentable liberty to get stuck in. They wrote out how alone they felt and how sick of it they were, how they didnt want to be here anymore. But when confronted about it they brushed it off as their own dramatics and skirted around it and played it down like it was no big deal. But it is. It's always a big deal because we arent build to be alone, genetically we're meant to be social, and it's terrifying to think that you're so alone and there's no one there who actually cares, no one actually is or wants to be your friend, they just don't want to be an asshole and tell you to get lost, but it doesn't matter because you isolate yourself, you can't leave me if I push you away first, you can't make me lonely if I make myself lonely, and it hurts so fucking much to be alone.

Peach's negativity was her cowardice. She couldn't stand up for herself, and she just let people treat her poorly because what could she say, what could she do that wouldn't make it worse? And what if they're right? For my friends I would cut a bitch. I almost got suspended for fighting over a friend. My heart was trying to explode my ribcage and I shook for ten minutes after but I did it. But when it comes to me? What's the point? I'm good at pretending I don't care and I'm good at looking unaffected by what people say but I used to be bad at hiding it, and it still hurts. I can't prove they're wrong. And I don't always want to, because maybe I deserve it. If I can't defend myself maybe they should say what they want.

Teal's negativity made her isolate herself. Because she hurt people. Everyone who tried to help her got hurt. Everyone who wanted to care or wanted to help or wanted to do anything, they got hurt. That was all she could do. Like an SCP, she was a danger to people around her and she couldn't be trusted. She didn't deserve to be rescued. I've been there. I kind of still am there. When you hurt people when you try to help, when /they/ try to help, and you don't get any better and you feel useless, like a burden, like you can only make bad things, only do bad things, only hurt people whoncare about you... eventually you want them to stop. If only so you can't hurt them anymore. Don't drown yourself trying to pull me out of the water, don't cut yourself trying to pry me out of thorns. Don't get killed trying to save me when I'm the problem that needs to be solved. It's a dark place to be. And I'm kinda glad they didnt save her. Because when you get that way, only two things will get you on track- butting heads with someone who no matter how hard you push won't let you isolate yourself (best if this is a professional, not a friend, someone who knows how to help and you have to go because you paid for the session or because someone else took you there) or hitting rock bottom harder than ever and finally accepting to yourself that you need help.

Red... Red was afraid of being abandoned. So am I. I'm so reliant on others to be even a half functional human being that being abandoned is terrifying. It could kill me. I try to not get attached so I don't have anyone to lose. It's easy, you don't care about them so when they stop talking to you it doesn't hurt. They don't ask you to hang out, they don't ask how you are, and you go your separate ways. But the backfire is that when you do get attached (it happens, when you least expect, when you let your guard down just for a second) it clings a lot harder and it hurts so much more than you expect it to. I've been pretty lucky I guess- not many people got close to me, and less of them got close and then left me. I was good being caustic and looking like the person you don't want to be friends with, so most people didn't bother. No one tried if they didnt /really really/ want to. But there's a handful that I thought would be around a long time that I haven't spoken to in years, a few who cut ties and haven't tried to talk to me and I haven't tried very hard to talk to them. (Once I had to stay after school and my dad and brother forgot about me. I was there until almost five and had to call my gramps to come get me. I cried, even though I tried so hard not to. I've always been so scared people would forget me.) And on top of that, when Red got stressed and upset, he lashed out. Specifically, he blamed others and he picked at things he knew would upset them, even if he didn't mean what he said, just so someone else would hurt. It's something I try not to think about, but I do it. I bottle up until my frustration gets so high that I pop, and the person I lash out at is usually someone who didn't deserve any of it. I always regret it. Usually as soon as I've done it. But it happens and then I can't take it back. And I always, always target something I know will get a reaction. I know my friends, I know their insecurities, and when I het upset and lash out I throw them in their faces. I curse and swear and rage, and when it clears I feel even worse than before because I know exactly what I've done and there's no excuse, no explanation that absolves me of it. I tell a friend concerned about their weight that they're fat and ugly and only hang out with me because I don't bring it up. I tell a friend who's always worried they're a bother that they're an annoying pest and they should fuck off when they're not wanted. I tell a teacher who can only bend rules so far for a student who's struggling that they're a bitch and I'm sick of them pretending to care because they don't know anything about me and I dont need faked pity, that there's nothing they could teach me and if I had any sense I'd just leave. I hurt people when I'm angry. And I can't take it back when I do.

And Blue- we saw her last, and it was a close tie in with Mark's fear as well- Failure. Blue was afraid that she wouldn't be able to help. That she wasn't good enough. Because sometimes you get it in your head that you have to be good- no, you have to be perfect. You can't fail. You can't afford to. You have to be the best, you can't leave anything to chance, you have to do it yourself, you have to fix it, you have to make things better and save everyone and protect them because if you don't then you don't know if anyone will. Because if you do anything it has to be the best or it wasn't worth doing. You can't make something mediocre, you can't draw just an okay picture or write a C grade essay or try to beat a mission but only accomplish half the goals. You have to do it all. Perfection or Death because how can you live with it if it isn't pefect? How can you go on knowing that you could have done better and you didn't? Knowing that someone else- hundreds of someone elses- were better than you? Why did you do it in the first place if no one is going to remember it or acknowledge it? (Sometimes you can convince yourself it's enough- no one saw you move that worm off the sidewalk but you helped, you didn't score better than everyone else but you were still top 5 and that will do for now- but sometimes it just sits there, nagging. It could be better. You could have gotten it if you tried harder. It doesn't make a difference and you wasted everyone's time.)

But the theme of the whole game was that sometimes, you don't do what you planned, and sometimes it isn't enough. Sometimes you lose, and sometimes you mess up, and sometimes you make mistakes. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it. And it doesn't mean you can't do better, and it doesn't mean you can't change to be better- a better person, a better artist, a better worker, a better friend. Accept your mistakes and learn from them, and no matter how many times things go wrong, keep trying until they go right, because it's only the end when you give up. It's only over if you let it be. You can't save everyone, and you can't be the best at everything, and you're not perfect, you never will be. It doesn't mean you're bad. It just means you're human. And so is everyone else.

@hearts-and-heroes thank you for making such a great game

@markiplier thank you for being such a genuinely good person