#its specifically the fact that hes fallen in love that turns it into an insecurity issue instead of an acceptance one here

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 4: Acceptance

This week on I Accidentally Made Myself Sad With My Own Angst :( As much as I know Forsyth would be the most accepting person in all of Valentia, I think his own insecurities/mindset would cause a bit of tension during his childhood with Python. It has a happy ending but I wanted to explore just a bit of that first...

“Python!” 

Forsyth’s tiny hands trembled, clutching the gift that he’d bought with his very own money. His father didn't need to know.

Python scrambled down the big oak tree to meet him. He tugged at the dress his father probably made him wear for the holiday. His hair had already come loose from it's braid, likely caught on the twigs and leaves of the tree. Forsyth waited anxiously at it's base for him to come down.

When he arrived, Forsyth shoved the box forward. He startled both of them with the force of it.

“I – I – I have this. For you. Will you – I mean – I would –” Forsyth’s cheeks burned red. It was clear what he was asking. There would be no other reason you’d give someone a perfectly wrapped package of sweets on the Day of Devotion unless you were asking them the question.

Python looked down at it. The two had been friends for so long, it took only a second for Forsyth to understand exactly what it meant. 

“Oh…” He felt his stomach twist up in a knot. His throat started to constrict. “I know Father doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t much like anyone. S-so we can make it work!”

“Fors…”

“We could keep it a secret!” Then, in desperation, “we could – we could run away together!”

“Fors!” Python whined. “C’mon, you know we’re too young for that!” With one hand he took the chocolates, and the other took Forsyth's arm. “We’re supposed to be climbing trees and playing pranks on Teacher – not doing gushy grown-up love stuff.”

Forsyth bit his lip. He didn’t think it was gushy at all. He didn’t trust his voice to speak; with one word he may just start bawling right here. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for being so emotional. 

Python beamed as if he hadn’t just shattered Forsyth’s heart into a million pieces. “Let’s just take it slow, okay? We’ll have plenty of time for all that when we’re older, okay?”

He coaxed a small nod from Forsyth.

“Speaking of! I heard Teach left the schoolhouse window open – have I got the perfect plan! We’ll share the chocolates after, okay? You’re my best friend, we should split them.”

I don’t want to split them. Forsyth let himself be tugged along. I wanted to give them all to you. To give everything to you.

He grit his teeth as they ran. He wasn’t the type to accept defeat after a small setback like this. So, Python wasn’t ready. That was fine. One day he would be. And Forsyth would be there. It was like every book he’d read: the steadfast knight would get the beautiful lover, if he was just patient enough.

He said a quick prayer to Mila, that one day they’d stop being friends, and true love would win out.

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hands trembled, his fists balled up in fury. 

“I am sick and tired of this.”

“Oh you’re tired of this? Then quit fucking confessing every single year. Every year it’s the same speech, and the same shitty plan to run away together. We’re not in some fairy tale, Fors. Just give it up.” Python moved to take a sip from his drink, turning his back. Though they’d both come of age, it wasn’t ale. Though it wasn’t ale, they both spoke as loudly as if they’d each had a barrel to drink. It was a good thing Python’s father was out all night; there was no one in the tiny house to hear them argue.

Forsyth grabbed the cup away before he could take a sip. It earned him a hard look, but a direct one. “I’m not tired of confessing, I’m tired of this type of disrespect!” He placed the drink down a foot away. “You can’t just be honest with me and tell me why I’m not good enough for you – it’s infuriating!”

“I am honest. I’ve told you, this has nothing to do with you. It’s me who–”

“Oh-ho, don’t give me that tired cliche! Every year, it’s another cryptic excuse, another roundabout lie!” He flung his hands in wild gestures, his voice pitching. “You say you’re not ready for commitment, yet you spend every day with me regardless. You say you would make a terrible housemate, yet you stay over at my home for weeks at a time. You say you’re not ready to be with someone, yet I catch word that you shared a bed with the innkeeper!”

“What, you jealous or something?”

“That is exactly what I am. And how dare you act like I’m the crazy one for it!” Tears threatened his eyes, but he pushed through. “I have been by your side your entire life, looking out for you, caring for you, giving all of myself over to you! And here you are, laughing in the face of my love! Like - like it’s another one of your jokes!

“Oh, you're jealous, huh? So is that why you do it? You do all that for me just to get laid at the end of the day? Well if you’d said that sooner, I would have happily –”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“It doesn’t make any damned sense, Python!”

“It does, if you would just pipe down and listen when I –”

“Pipe down?” 

“Yeah! If you’d let me finish a damned sentence this will all make sense!”

“Fine then, go ahead and finish – give me one good reason why you don’t want to be with me!”

“When you’re acting like this I could give you a hundred!” Python swatted his cup away, spilling the drink all over the floor. He stormed out of the room.

A heavy silence fell over the house. Forsyth gathered his things. He left. He finally let his tears fall.

It was simple, he decided. All he needed to do was accept the fact that this relationship was going nowhere. Python didn't love him, and he'd just need to imagine whatever reasons he could. They should simply end things before they got any more hurt. 

End our friendship...

He cried through the night, unable to even muster a word to Mila. 

—

“Python!”

Forsyth’s hand was steady as it took the man’s shoulder. The pair locked eyes. 

“Run away with me.”

The wind rustled the leaves overhead. Usually the area was bustling with chaos as the new building was erected, but Python was the only one to stay back today. Forsyth would have teased him for the irony, if it hadn’t presented him with the perfect opportunity to ask his question.

Python rolled his eyes. “Har-har. I thought today was Day of Devotion, not Flostym Fools'…”

“Huh?” Forsyth’s expression flashed with confusion, then horror. “O-oh! Not like that, of course! Oh gods, I meant… the Deliverance.”

He spread his hands. “It’s clear we’ll never get the approval we seek to join. So I propose we do it in secret. Everyone will be distracted by the village festivities tonight. If we don’t come home right away, everyone will assume it’s for… the festivities. It will give us a reasonable head start. We won’t need to worry about them catching up to us by the time they finally realize we’ve gone.”

He looked eagerly to Python. 

“Heh, using all the hype around love to make our escape... you’re a true ally after all, Fors!”

Forsyth’s look soured. “L-listen. I swear, I would never ask you that again. I mean, we got over that years ago. I nearly lost you to that argument, and I shall never make the same mistake again. I know how much pain I put you through, and I would never dream of –”

“Hey. I know. You had a lot on your mind, then.” He let out a loud sigh. “Which is why I’m gonna come along with you. Somebody’s gotta help you find that special someone, right?”

“Do you mean it? Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

With a hearty laugh, Python pulled him into a hug. Forsyth held him close. Reality may not follow a path like the perfect little fairy tales he read as a child, but that made it no less perfect.

“So… that’s a yes?”

Python leaned back so he could study his face. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“W-were you not?”

“Eh, I’m not serious about anything…” He offered his hand. “But I’m in. I’m always in.”

Forsyth accepted it, clasping it within both of his. He found himself too choked up for words, though he didn’t care if anyone saw him cry. He wiped tears from his cheeks and smiled at Python’s kindhearted teasing.

He thanked the gods that they would never stop being friends.

[paintingformike]

see i could buy milevens’ “mike and el are just having issues like every other normal relationship irl” narrative if not for the fact that they revealed will’s feelings for mike ALONGSIDE this plotline, had them glued next to each other for the entire season and made them have like 5 separate intimate conversations together with the romantic cliche of getting interrupted from staring at each other after most of these.

on top of that, they heavily intertwined will in the “resolution” of their relationship problem and milevens somehow see nothing wrong with it and think its completely normal?! let me tell you that if they really intended mileven endgame and unrequited love for will then they couldve easily made the ily problem just something to be resolved between mike and el alone, them directly communicating and opening up to each other while have will longingly looking at mike from afar (with 0 heart to hearts between them even) and it would’ve been enough to portray that message.

but somehow they needed to have mike confiding in will about his problems and insecurities, baring his soul and being vulnerable with his emotions to will throughout the duration of the show, put so much tension in their scenes together, then made it so that mike still needed constant reassurance and comfort from will just so he could say ily to his gf? and even after all that he still HESITATED and looked up to will before delivering his monologue? he wasn’t ever going to initiate anything until will pushed him to talk to el before she could die? he’s only saying it then because he thought it could save her? mind you there were so many other ways they could have written this but they had to go to a route that would make it look questionable, they absolutely didn’t need to write in will’s “you’re the heart” motivational talk to mike before the monologue unless it was for a reason 😭

lucas and max are the actual representation of “couple that may have rifts like other relationships irl but still coming back to each other” this season, because we know that it was a conflict that both of them alone strived to resolve together, they communicated properly and opened up to each other and were vulnerable about their true feelings. they were the ones reassuring each other and not some third party reassuring one of them that “lucas/max will always need you don’t worry about it 🥺”. but how come with mileven they couldnt solve their conflict alone at all? how come they decided to write it so that it’s will making mike feel loved for who he is and secure enough in the relationship to say ily and not his own partner doing that for him? why did mike need will influencing him on what to do at all? is he just so bad at maintaining a stable relationship with el specifically?

just remember that without will and his painting, the monologue wouldn’t have even existed. mike was convinced el didn’t need him anymore. he was not going to tell el he loved her when he already believed their relationship couldn’t be salvaged and there was no turning back from that. he thought there was no way he could say ily to el so obviously el would be done with him at that point. it was just will who actually convinced him otherwise, who said all these things about mike being the heart and inspiring other people, about how important he was, all the while making it seem like those sentiments came from el. and those were all things mike needed to hear, all the appreciation he ever wanted, even though he was having his suspicions and deep down wanted it all to come from will alone (if he was genuinely happy that the painting came from el then his face wouldn’t have fallen everytime will mentioned her), he decided to go along with it because he trusts him more than anyone else, and what reason would will need to lie to him, right?

then here we have el in a near-death experience, will reminding him about his speech in the van telling him he’s the heart, mike feels cornered because will seems to expect so much from him and believes his words would be able to save el, he doesn’t want to disappoint and el is about to die, he feels responsible and would feel horrible if he wouldnt be able to fulfill the savior and leader role that el seems to see in him based on that painting, so he guesses he has no other choice but to actually be the heart and tell el what he thought she needed to hear! return all the affections that she channeled through that painting, she deserves that much after making you feel that loved and appreciated! you felt genuine love from that painting so maybe those are finally true romantic feelings surfacing for her, it still doesnt exactly feel right because not everything will said matches up with what el has actually been showing and expressing to you but you have no time to think about that now, you just need to help save her! she needs you.

now, what do you think will happen when mike inevitably learns the full truth behind the painting, and how all the words and sentiments that made him feel genuine love directly came from will all along?

[cdcore]

“RAMONA”: SUBSTANCES AND SITUATIONSHIPS

I believe that everyone who really loves a genre, a band or music in general has one album or song that was formative for them. A piece of artistic work that, while maybe not the objective best, came into someone’s life at the perfect time and cemented a deep, personal impression.

For me, “Ramona” by Kill Bill: The Rapper, is that album.

The 2014 debut album came during the Soundcloud era, where independent rap artists were beginning to post their work to streaming services, with an especially high focus of “vaporwave” aesthetics. This aesthetic style consisted of lower fidelity equipment, intentionally messier audio mixing, heavy uses of electronic sounds and synthesizers, all while visually combining these elements with ‘90s pop culture media. The end product results in a oftentimes spacy, nostalgic atmosphere with slower beats per minute and typically sadder topics. This indie scene played in direct contrast to the more mainstream aggressive, trap records of the time (though through artists like XXXTENTACION and others indie “lo-fi” music would find mainstream success), and to me, Ramona is the best example of indie internet rap in that era.

“Ramona”, named and stylized after the main love interest in “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World”, essentially offers reflection. Scattered across the album’s 16 tracks are discussions of the artist’s substance abuse problems, insecurities and failed relationships throughout his past.

There is an almost hypnotic aspect regarding how these tracks flow into each other and form a full, cohesive project. Sonically, the vocal distortions across some tracks, synth throbs and eclectic sampling of video game and cartoon sound effects work together to create a dreamlike atmosphere. This template serves as an instrumental backdrop that emphasizes the accuracy of Bill’s introspections and musings.

It also serves to emulate the dissociation Bill feels from his significant weed consumption, as seen in the following line off the track Abandoned 2:

“Man I’m withdrawn, grippin’ a big bong, a tall cup / I haven’t even made it, people sayin’ I’m washed up.”

As direct and literal as this specific example may be, it is representative of a larger motif around drug and alcohol consumption in the album. As Bill flaunts his routine drug and alcohol addictions, he also tends to reveal individual insecurities he faces. Combined across multiple verses, it’s clear that as a result of some sloppy relationships and mental health issues, the rapper has fallen into a cycle of using weed to avoid his complex, hurt emotions.

In turn, he feels ambitionless and slow to act while on the drug, while without it his pains become increasingly more difficult to bear. It’s for this reason that the opening track Backwoods is centered around the drug, its name even a reference to a brand of cigar typically used for blunts (don’t do drugs kids!).

Backwood’s melancholy outlook through its chorus of “I’ve never been as happy as right now / But shit, I’ve got to cope with the fact that it dies down” also therefore contributes to this drug theming, as his happiness naturally slowing due to an unexpected life event parallels the high and decline of taking a substance.

When not addressing his substance problems, Bill is often commenting on his shy, anxious and otherwise insecure nature, both through some vague metaphors and individual relationship accounts.

A particularly standout piece from Backwoods that covers his mental and personal conflicts is as follows: “Anxiety-ridden, I hide in the rhythm/ I’m Ficus, burning bush/ I turned to Christ then burned the book / It turned to ice; I learned to cook it; work at night, I turned and booked it”

I love this set of lines because I think it captures the whole range of success and struggle he faces within the project. The burning bush analogy works both as a double entendre, further hinting at his chronic weed smoking, while segueing into his conflicts with religion; whether a loss of faith or an inability to form spiritual connections, a turn to faith wasn’t for him. Despite his addiction and an anxiety that’s so crippling it only allows him expression through art, he still was able to find a way to grind and succeed professionally through his long hours or “work at night”.

In a lot of ways, that back-and-forth pull between a harsh critique of one’s flaws and a positive outlook for growth and accepting what has changed dominate the album as a whole.

The first few tracks see a mainly negative spiral. Hola, while mostly a freestyle-esque song with no clear topic, hints at former lacks of boundaries and hurt from relationship in imagery of sacrificing his time and giving up parts of his life for someone who didn’t do the same. Fuck deals with self-destructive tendencies, wanting to “smoke until it kills me slow”.

Chinatown is the track where all that negativity really starts to stall for the first time. Instead of mourning his current vices, wishing to spiral further, Bill spends the entirety of the song reflecting over a summer relationship, one that left him with such profound emotion he remembers how life seemed to center around this woman, as seen in the following lines:

“A trillion little stars dust the blanket above us/ How small are we while the cosmos breathes, but for a second my scale changed.”

For as crass and blunt as rap can be, this line stands out as one of his more delicate passages as far as word choice, mirroring how pretty and perfect he viewed this woman. What exactly happened between the two is never expounded upon, though given a line “and I just want my fucking summer back”, it is clearly implied to have ended negatively.

The next song, Dream Eater, really cements Chinatown as a momentary daydream or reflection Bill wakes out of. Dream Eater, for as happy and peaceful as its instrumental and sampling is, ultimately deals with complacency versus being content. The features by Rekcahdam and Rav empathize this, with lines about finding happiness of being able to socialize and stay close with friends despite work, family and relationship issues.

This ebb and flow between optimistic apathy and self-destructiveness continues through tracks like Black Coffee, which focuses on a failing relationship he struggles to communicate in, an examination of his childhood in Then There’s Me and a more delinquent approach of partying and sexual escapades in Pork.

Sitting among these tracks is one of the most powerful and distinct songs on the entire album, Good Luck Chuck. Rather than rapping introspections through a mix of metaphor and video game references, Good Luck Chuck sees Kill Bill directly crafting a narrative. Here, a woman on hard times and with deeper medical school ambitions slowly becomes a stripper, falling in love with and eventually being betrayed via murder by one of her clients. As strange of a comparison as it might seem, it heavily reminds me of Sonya’s story in “Crime and Punishment”. Here, an innocent woman is forced into a occupation that involves dealing with creepy or shameful people and lust, though the woman in Good Luck Chuck is in a more voluntary position. We see an examination into the mental state of the man each woman is directly romantically involved with, both of which have aims to murder. However, in Good Luck Chuck the man murders her out of a parasocial attachment; as a regular attendee of the strip club, he’s sickened that other people get to see her instead of him and allows that resentment to build in him to the point of murder. While by no means the most replay-able, easy listen music, I think Good Luck Chuck stands as one of the most powerful tracks on the album.

The closing tracks show an inability to grapple with change and loss from Bill, drunkenly stumbling into a girl who’s rejected him in About Last Night… and lamenting how much time has passed since a failed crush in Summertime (The Overflow).

As that final track ends, a sample plays from the video game The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, specifically the sound effect when the player restores their lives. While he may still be grappling with those failed relationships and how to navigate healing outside of them, ending the album on that sound effect implies that there’s a chance at new life, that while things have ended he will continue to go anew and form new experiences despite the history of heartbreaks and mental health hurt he shares prior.

This album is by no means perfect. Some of its word choice and rhetoric in its relationship flashes can feel borderline objectifying (especially when rough, biological terms like ‘female’ are chosen instead of woman, etc.) and the chorus on Chinatown is arguably grading on the ears. However, for a debut project, “Ramona” is so thoroughly cohesive and introspective in its message that it has and continues to elicit a strong, emotional response from me every time I play it. While rough, the album will always deserve its flowers to me.

[cardentist]

I haven’t been in the star trek fandom for very long (I’ve only just started binging the series in the last couple months), so it’s been pretty surprising to find out just how negative the perception of the reboot movies are.

this isn’t coming from the perspective of someone who grew up with the series, so it hit different for me than it might for people with a different relationship to TOS, but I thought it was genuinely clever and Respectful with how it was handled.

To quote leonard nimoy: “Well the alternative timeline gives them license to escape from canon concerns. I can’t see people saying ‘they shouldn’t do that because…’ or ‘that doesn’t tie in to such and such’ because it is a different time and place. Am I right about that?” [Link]

the entire Premise is that the original series happened as it was presented in TOS, but an event late in Spock’s life caused the creation of a parallel universe in which everyone’s lives were significantly altered through two key changes to the timeline. this gives them the freedom to Both revel in fanservice And explore different facets of the characters and their relationships. 

the destruction of vulcan Vastly impacts the characters and the plot moving forward, and its a detail that a lot of people take issue with. but the emotional impact of sarek admitting Directly to spock that there is value in his humanity, that his feelings Aren’t wrong, that sarek married amanda because he Loved her cannot be understated. you can read all of these things into sarek as he was in the original series, but he Never had an open conversation about these things with spock. this creates a Believable and Rewarding change in their relationship, where we get to see a different facet of them Because of the changes made. and that’s exactly the appeal. showing us pieces of these characters that we never got in TOS that are nevertheless undeniably Them.

everyone is Different yes, but they’re also fundamentally the same people at their core and that matters.

kirk’s personality obviously takes the biggest change, with him experiencing trauma at a young age, losing his father, and having an implied abusive father figure after that point. he has a harsher personality in reaction to harsher conditions, he’s spikier and harder to love. but he’s also still fundamentally a Good person whose willing to risk everything to help people. he still has what made kirk prime a good captain and a good friend.

I’m not gonna say that it’s the most nuanced story in the world, but it explores a version of kirk that was born from even Less fortunate circumstances than kirk prime, exploring a kirk brimming with potential who learned to bite back after he was kicked down. exploring those themes of trauma and loss, of insecurity and growth, and coming to the conclusion that Fundamentally He Is Capable Of Good isn’t a Bad thing. you don’t have to like it, but his growth into a better person is The Point. they deepened his flaws (all of which were present in a less exaggerated form in TOS) To Show That Growth.

and then of course there’s his relationship with spock.

people are totally justified in not liking that they had a rough start to their relationship, I usually don’t like to see that kind of thing in reboots or hollywood adaptations either, but the way people talk about it is just unfair.

Yes kirk and spock and bones have a very strong relationship in TOS, they also already know each other by the time the show starts. to look at them having to learn to get to know and trust each other when they first meet and say that it’s Bad because they were already full on ride or die for each other in the og series is silly. TOS kirk and spock had to meet and fall in love with each other too, it didn’t just happen over night kings.

secondly, the entire point of the first movie is that Even With reality itself being altered to pull them apart they are fundamentally compatible people that are Bound to each other. they meet each other on bad terms because of circumstances outside of their control, and yet they’re still pulled into each other’s orbit and find the other slotting into place next to them as if they always belonged. one of the first things that spock prime says in the movie is “I am and always will be your friend,” spock and jim are Meant for each other and the movie goes out of its way to explain that. which is what makes it so Weird to see people complaining about how they don’t like each other.

it’s a Different relationship, but it’s absolutely no less steeped in yearning or queer subtext. 

speaking of queer subtext ! some people are Very unhappy with spock’s relationship with uhura.

first thing I wanna say is that making the argument that they’re doing anything that the original series hasn’t done is just, completely untrue. kirk has fallen in love with more girls in the og series than he knew what to do with, leonard nimoy was a heartthrob in his time (and he deserves it, awooga) and spock reflects that ! Spock usually turns the women who come onto him down (or when he doesn’t it’s because a plant has literally altered his mind), but there are exceptions to even that. all of three of the main boys have plenty of romance subplots, it happens. if that takes the possibility of them being queer off the table for you (which it shouldn’t, m-spec people exist) then I’m sorry to say that TOS is not exempt.

now, I can understand why Specifically This Relationship could rub people the wrong way or being disappointed that they didn’t outright depict kirk and spock as having a relationship (if not in the first movie then in the following ones after they’ve gotten to know each other), but even in that context the way I’ve seen people talk about it comes off as insensitive.

no, the relationship did not come out of nowhere. they considered having spock and uhura date each other in the original show (and you can see signs of this in the earlier episodes, where uhura very obviously flirts with him and they spend time together in their down time) before they decided against it, and spock was originally going to kiss uhura until shatner insisted that he wanted to do it (because it was the first interracial kiss on tv). [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3]

nichelle nichols was asked about this exact thing (spock and uhura’s relationship in the movie), you can read the interview in full here [Link] but I’d like to highlight this paragraph in particular:

“Now, go back to my participation in Star Trek as Uhura and Leonard (Nimoy) as Spock. There was always a connection between Uhura and Spock. It was the early 60’s, so you couldn’t do what you can do now, but if you will remember, Uhura related to Spock. When she saw the captain lost in space out there in her mirror, it was Spock who consoled her when she went screaming out of her room. When Spock needed an expert to help save the ship, you remember that Uhura put something together and related back to him the famous words, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid.” And Uhura was the only one who could do a spoof on Spock. Remember the song (in “Charlie X”)? Those were the hints, as far as I’m concerned.”

the film makers looked at the fact there were Hints for uhura and spock, that they were Interested in exploring an interracial couple for the first time (both before and immediately after interracial couples won the right to legally get married) but Couldn’t because of the circumstances of the times and decided to Make that depiction. you don’t have to Like their relationship just because of that fact, but it’s Incredibly reductive to play down it’s significance as just a No Homo cop out. explicitly queer relationships are not the only progressive or culturally important relationships in fiction.

moreover, if you can’t imagine polyamory in the communist utopian future that’s on you.

moreover, this perception that this was a soulless cash grab is just, unfounded.

leonard nimoy returned to the role as spock for the first time in 16 years (since 1991) and this was Entirely because of the respect they had for nimoy, spock as a character, and the franchise as a whole. 

Lets look at some quotes from nimoy in interviews regarding the film:

Leonard Nimoy: When I first read the script (...) I immediately contacted J.J. and said “I think it is terrific…I think you guys have done a wonderful job. There is still work to be done, but it is very clear that you and your writers know what you are doing and you know how to do this movie and know what it should be about….and I am very interested.” Then as time went by we worked things out with Paramount, but the most important things were J.J. and the script. (...) I am very pleased about that and I am very comfortable with where this is going. I think the writers have done a terrific job. They have a real sense of the characters and the heart of Star Trek and what it is really all about.

(...)

TrekMovie.com: Now in the case of the new movie you have been retired from acting for years. What was it about this one that made you want to act again and go through the make up again? What was it that made you say ‘I really want to do this?’

Leonard Nimoy: You are right, this is a special situation. First it is Star Trek and so I have to pay attention. I owe that to Star Trek. Second place is that it is J.J. Abrams who I think very highly of, he is a very talented guy. Then came the script and it was very clear that I could make a contribution here. The Spock character that I am playing, the original Spock character, is essential and important to the script. So on the basis of those three elements it was easy to make the decision. So those three things: Star Trek, J.J. Abrams, and an interesting Spock role.

[Link]

Praising the cast playing younger versions of characters from the original 1960s TV series, he [Leonard Nimoy] said: “Let me take the opportunity to say this. Everybody at this table [the cast] are very, very talented and intelligent people.”

“They found their own way to bring that talent and intelligence to this movie, and I think it shows. (...)  When Karl Urban introduced himself as Leonard McCoy and shook hands with Chris Pine, I burst into tears. That performance of his is so moving, so touching and so powerful as Doctor McCoy, that I think D. Kelley would be smiling, and maybe in tears as well.”

“The makers of this film reawakened the passion in me that I had when we made the original film and series. I was put back in touch with what I cared about and liked about Star Trek, and why I enjoyed being involved with Star Trek. So, it was an easy way to come on home.”

“[In this Star Trek] they said things and showed me things, and demonstrated the sensibility that I felt very comfortable with, and I think that shows in the movie. I like it.”

[Link 1, Link 2]

again, you don’t have to like it just because leonard nimoy did, you don’t have to Agree. but the idea that nobody working on the film Cared is provably false. near everyone working on the project was already a fan of the series or were excited to be involved and did their homework. it’s genuinely a Miracle just how much of a labor of love this was, and in my opinion you can feel that through the movie itself. I’d highly recommend looking into interviews and behind the scenes details about the movies. they had a respect not just for the source material, but for leonard nimoy as a person.

there’s definitely more I Could say about this, but it’s 4 am now so I’m gonna shelve it jklfdsa

that said! it’s Fine to not like the movie, not everything is going to be suited to everyone’s taste, but the specific criticisms I’ve seen feel very off base

[margarethelstone-2]

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

[seancekitsch]

Ebb & Flow

part 2 for Heat. diego x reader

warnings: angst, hints of diego’s self loathing, low key set in the prize buck universe but obvs not the same reader character, drinking, oblivious idiot love birds, unprotected pre-marital missionary, edgar allen poe reference, corny ass shit

Four days pass, and every day he debates trying to reach out to you. He wakes up in a cold bed that feels empty without you. But he doesn’t; because you made it very clear you did not want to sleep with Diego Hargreeves specifically. He decides to try to go back to what his life was like before you fell into it. Before he fell for you. He tries to pretend that hair pin (which he’s now tucked away into a drawer) isn’t literally haunting and taunting him every second he’s in his boiler room bedroom. It’s hard for him to sleep or function with it in the room with him, like it screams it’s presence as a trace of you. The hair pin is a tell-tale heart of all of Diego’s misguided feelings and how he so severely misread the situation between the two of you. The hair pin is the constant thrumming of his mind telling him over and over that of course you’d never feel the same way as he does. You were a therapist, he was a gym janitor. Of course you’d tire of slumming it with a man that regularly plays crime fighter at night. Diego is constantly reminded of you even without seeing the hair pin because he just knows where he put it. And that address. That damn address carefully written in blue pen on the back of one of your business cards. Would it be wrong of him to still look into the warehouse? You had to have left it for him on purpose, you had to have taken it out of your bag and left it there purposely on the bed; there was no way it could have fallen out of the bag that was on his table and onto the middle of his bed as you were leaving. Diego tries to bury his thoughts of you in vigilante work, tries to stay out late. He succeeds and returns just before the gym opens in the morning. When he finally gets back to his boiler room, Al offhandedly mentions that a woman had inquired about his whereabouts. Part of Diego desperately hopes and wishes it’s you, but he doesn’t do anything about it. You probably don’t actually want to see him. Or it's one of his sisters. Probably just Allison or Vanya. Family stuff. Maybe they had another dad die or something. 

Twelve days later, he finally works up the courage to call the owner of the warehouse to ask about pricing and zoning if he wanted to start his own gym there. He had enough in savings that he could have moved out of his current situation and into a studio like Klaus had, but he wanted to put as much money together for his own gym before he thought of himself. He could sleep peacefully alone on a cot in a gym that he happened to own. The current owner remarks that he had heard Diego would be calling, and says he likes the idea of a gym going into the space there. He thanks the man, and they strike a deal, talk about a title and deed change to be drafted and signed for the beginning of the next month. Diego unofficially owns his own gym now. Normally he would be calling you to celebrate, but instead he dials and hopes the landline at Klaus’ apartment is still connected. Klaus’ partner answers and congratulates Diego, and invites him out to the bar with them this weekend. Diego’s voice declines before his mind can stop himself. Maybe because he didn't want to celebrate with anyone but you. 

It’s fifteen days later, Friday, when Diego regrets not going to the bar with Klaus and his partner. It's Diego, a six pack, and that damn hair pin having what looked more like a pity party than a celebration of a major life event. But maybe that's not the worst thing, now he can focus himself for the job ahead, get a good night's sleep. Well, he would have gotten a good night's sleep, if there weren't suddenly shouting coming from the hallway outside his door. 

“Klaus, I don't want to be here!”

That was clearly, unmistakably your voice. You were outside his door and vehemently expressing that you wanted nothing to do with this place. What were you doing with his brother? Oh, right. Friday night at the bar. He was supposed to have been there too, but he bailed. 

“Well it was either this or you officially become part of my harem for the night”

“I have a home, thank you very much! I could go to it”

“But you left your car at the club, and you live across the city. You’re safe here, even if you are afraid of my brother now.”

Afraid. Afraid. Your opinion of him had gone from disgust to fear. He presses his ear now to the door and can only hear one set of retreating footsteps. Someone is leaving, and if hes right, its Klaus. 

Then he hears,

“FUCK,” a frustrated half-groan, half-scream. He has to admit to himself, even hearing how unhappy you seemed, he missed hearing your voice. He missed you. And you were outside his door right now in the middle of the night. Fuck it, he thought, I’m not missing my chance. 

When Diego opens the door, he sees you sitting on the ground, tight jean clad legs spread and chunky high heeled boot toes pointed outwards. He always loved those shoes on you. When his eyes meet your face, there’s an indignant pout on your lips, but your eyes are apologetic. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. C’mon, I’m not leaving you in the hallway.” He opens the door a little wider, enough that he could usher you in, but you don't budge.

“Y’know, i’m not even drunk it's just my-”

“-your rule, yeah, I remember,” You had this rule that no matter what, you wouldn't get behind the wheel if you'd had more than one beer or even one drink stronger than a beer. Always best to err on the side of caution, you’d said. Better to not get pulled over at the very least or kill anyone else at the very worst, and you could handle being inconvenienced if it meant safety. But the fact of the matter is that it's the dead of winter and you live across town. You actually live in pretty close proximity to his new gym. 

“Come in, you can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch in Al’s office. It’s two am and you are not walking home looking like that. I’ll stay away from you,” He's trying his best to sound comforting and respectful, but it hurts. It hurts to be inviting you in and knowing you want nothing to do with him. 

“You don't have to-” you pause, as if trying to find the right words, “I’m not gonna put you out like that”

Diego nods, and turns back inside the boiler room, holding the door open, and you catch it, following him. It's just like old times, except it isn't. 

“Here, I've got a shirt and some pants you can sleep in,” Diego’s rifling through his drawers as he talks, worried he’ll look at you too long and seem as desperate as he is. He manages to throw a clean tee and a pair of jogger sweatpants on the bed, two of the only clean items he has currently because tomorrow is laundry day. Diego turns completely around to avoid looking at you while he can hear you changing, something he never would have done before, but there are boundaries now. He can imagine exactly what you look like right now, beautiful as ever and tired, changing into his clothes, just as it had happened dozens of times before. Only before he would have watched in awe and then grabbed you all to himself. 

“You can turn around now, nothing you haven't seen before,” your voice is soft, you don't sound annoyed anymore and he can’t help but feel a twinge of hope at that. 

When he turns around, he sees you've neglected the pants all together. Your bare legs end where the hem of his shirt meets the tops of your thighs and - why the fuck would you tell him to turn around with you dressed like this?

You gesture to his bed, and he sits on it, but you don't. You stay standing, looking more apprehensive and nervous by the second. 

“K-klaus said you're afraid of me now?” Stupid thing to say. Diego’s tired. His insecurities are showing. You're the last person he would want to be afraid of him.

Your face crumbles into something unreadable, but what he would guess is pity or guilt. Which are maybe worse than fear and disgust by his standards. He lets his head drop, suddenly finding his draped hands between his legs to be extremely interesting. 

You shift from one foot to another, unsure of how to answer, but then it comes to you. 

You place yourself in his line of vision, not allowing him to look away as you kneel down on your knees between his own. The sight alone is more than Diego can bear.

“No, no I'm not. I'm sorry you heard that and he said that. Look, I wanted to talk to you, not like this, not right now. I came by last week but you weren't here.” So it was you that had come around. Not his sisters like he had convinced himself. You wanted to talk to him. 

“I wanted to apologize. I-I shouldn't have left like that. I need to explain to you why I left.” He nods, and lets you continue. “I crossed a line. I was wrong. Our arrangement, I know it was like a no strings attached thing, but I started to have strings! I have so many strings. I broke our agreement, it wasn't casual for me. I broke your trust. I had to leave. I couldn't do that to you.”

Strings. You had strings, attached. To him of all people. You broke the rules. So did he. He searches your face, as if there's something to read on your features, and feels your hands slide into his own. 

“I-I-I’m sh-shitty at t-tying knots.” Diego what the fuck was that? He was more nervous than he thought. But you break into a watery grin, understanding the meaning in his words. You nod, and reply,

“I can teach you, if you've got strings to spare.” That was extremely sappy, and he loved it. He had so many strings to spare. He loved you. And he could show it now.

He tugs on your hands to pull them up to his shoulders, and you lean up into it, lips coming together as his hands wrap around your back to hold you tight. He easily lifts you up until he can gather you in his lap and keeps kissing you, over and over and over until you're dizzy. He holds you tightly, not unlike the last time you were in his bed, but this time his hands roam and grasp and touch, exploring you like it's the first time you're doing this. In a way, it is. It's the first time you're doing this so vulnerable and open with one another. You don't have to hide the smile that forms against his lips, you don't have to feel shame in the way that your lips chase after his own when he tries to pull away. You are taking from each other as much as you are giving, and for once you are giving everything.

His hands slide from your back, to the hem of his shirt, to your ass under the shirt. Diego is, at heart, an ass man you remember. He squeezes one cheek, then slaps it. Not hard, just enough to feel the slight jiggle at the contact. He chuckles against your mouth and then continues south, still kneading his hands into the flesh of your ass as his kisses meet the hem of his shirt at the other side, at your neck. You kiss his cheek, his nose, the scar that connects from behind his ear to his eye. Diego takes the time to lick the base of your neck, making you shudder and moan into it before he flips the both of you, surprising you when your back hits the blankets below. Looking up at him, his eyes are full of lust and admiration. 

“You look beautiful in my shirt, baby,” he whispers.

“And you are wearing entirely too much, dear” you reply.

He groans, and it turns into a chuckle as he whips his shirt off his torso, revealing his broad, scarred chest to you, which your hands immediately reach for to pull him back down onto you. He makes no move to remove the shirt covering you, but you think this might be doing something for him. Instead, his hands roam under the shirt again, and tease at the hem of your underwear. They aren't a particularly sexy pair, because the last thing you expected to happen tonight is this. It doesn't matter to Diego, who just pulls them down as far as his arm can reach, letting you kick them the rest of the way off as he fumbles with pulling his sweatpants down. There isn't the usual teasing game tonight, no. You'd spent too much time apart, you are full to the brim with love that even a little teasing would have the two of you spilling and in pain. This is fuck-or-die with no real consequences but your own impatience and need for each other. 

Diego wastes no time gently spreading your legs with a smooth slowness you didn't know he possessed before easing inside of you. You gasp, close your eyes, and breathe, taking a moment to remember this. This is what it felt like to make love. Another first for both of you. His pace, when he finally begins moving, is slow and steady, he's in no rush now that he has you. He’s quieter than usual, opting to just kiss you until he's sure you can read his mind and just understand what he's thinking. You rock peacefully, like a boat on the ocean, cresting waves within you mounting, exhaling with low moans he's never heard from you before. You never thought slow and careful would bring you to climax, but here you are feeling it steadily build and build. Waves now beginning to crash instead of ebb and flow, Diego’s only warning being your moans beginning to rise an octave. The release hits you in an all encompassing mighty tidal wave, leaving you shaking in his arms, holding onto him tightly like a lighthouse to the shore. This was not a white hot explosion, this was the tides coming home. As you subside, you almost feel ashamed at how quickly you came for him, but Diego is close behind you, your body pulling him to shore after you. He comes with a tight, close-lipped hum of a moan pressed against the side of your neck, and stills above you. His body cages yours to the bed, a willing prisoner of whatever Diego Hargreeves had in store for you. Whatever happened next for him, you were along for the voyage.

[delta-roseblr]

Lol, all the new info about the solangelo and delix kids made me want to have a fic just about them. So I was wondering if that would be possible? xD

Hello, Anon!

I know it has been forever since you sent this prompt, but it wasn't forgotten!

I hope this is worth the wait

_____________________________________________________

The Kids

· Because Solangelo and Delix both set down in California, Solangelo in New Rome and Delix stays in Northern California; they see each other a lot, as do their kids.

· The fact that Michael and Lee (Nico and Will's twins) and Mason (Felix and Dean's son) are a little more than a year apart just added to their drive to get together as a family. The kids could entertain each other, and they always got along well. The twins were challenging to entertain when they were little, so this is a big deal.

· Will and Dean always figured the three of them would always get along because, well, that was how they were, but Nico and Felix had their doubts. They figured that as the three got older and if (when) the twins started showing their demigod powers that they would drift.

· Nico and Felix turned out to be completely wrong, and the three just got closer as they got older.

· You would think, since Mason is the oldest of the three, he would take on the leadership role in the group, but that isn't how it works out. Mason is a pretty even-keeled kid. He definitely got Dean's tendency to want to put his head down and do his work. He can and does take the leadership role during team things like sports but not when the twins are involved.

· The twins are a damn handful from the moment they are born, and they never really change. Both of them are outgoing in their own ways. Lee is more competitive and will jump at the opportunity to take on a challenge, while Michael is more social- he can (and will) start a conversation with pretty much anyone he meets. The two are also a perfect storm of trouble because Michael will come up with an idea like they should buy fake ids and sneak into a club, and Lee will view it as a challenge, so he wants to do it, and they will absolutely find a way to talk Mason into joining them. Mason definitely tries his hardest to keep them out of trouble and manages to be at least somewhat successful sixty-five percent of the time.

· The twins love showing up at Mason's mortal school events, so even though they do not go there, most of Mason's classmates recognize them. They are also pretty much honorary members of Mason's lacrosse team. While Mason gives them shit for being menaces, he really likes when they show up, it definitely stops things from getting boring.

· Mason visits New Roman as well, even though not as much because going to New Roman can be a process as a mortal going to New Roman. Still, he has teamed up with the twins and a few of the other children of the seven around their age to case a little harmless trouble on the weekend.

· Btw, Dean has had several conversations with a teenage Mason about precisely what to do if he finds himself being hit on by a horny god (with very specific things to say to Apollo or Dionysus). Mason considers these the most embarrassing conversations he has ever had with his days. It's bad enough that his middle-aged dads still act like teenagers half the time and CAN'T keep their hands off each other. He doesn't want to hear about how Greek gods had tried to bone them back in the day. Grandpa Solace jumping in with "Just remember, Apollo isn't nearly as good in bed as he claims, and you can take my word for it" doesn't help with the awkwardness. He would rather have to go through the birds and bees talk a million times over.

· All three of these boys are NOT STRAIGHT. Michael is gay, while both Lee and Mason are bisexual. It's hard to say that Michael or Lee "came out" because it happened so organically. There was no sit everyone down and tell them moment. Instead, it was just "I LIKE like that boy" or "that boy is really cute" when they were like twelve. Mason takes FOREVER to admit this to himself and even longer to admit it to anyone else. Michael and Lee KNOW way before Mason admits to anything, and neither of them lets him hid from it. Lee tries the comforting approach hoping Mason will admit it while Michael goes more the exposure therapy route- he'll point out cute guys and ask what Mason thinks. He tricked Mason into going to a few gay events without Mason knowing until it was too late to back out.

· FYI, Mason comes out to Lee first, but only because they get into a fight because Lee is flirting with a boy; Mason secretly has a massive crush on (or at least he thinks it's a secret, but everyone can tell). Michael is solidly pissed about this for months, but that doesn't stop him from trying to play matchmaker.

Dribble:

The rain had stopped, and Mason supposed he should have been happy about that, but the lingering sense of tension and danger made it hard to appreciate. He, Michael, and Lee had already walked one block north of Gypsy Bar, and Mason was hoping as they put even more distance between themselves and the bar that sense of unease would dissipate at least a little.

They had been walking in silence for several minutes. That was a rare thing, and Mason hoped it meant that it was one of those rare occasions that his cousins were thinking about how horrible their idea had been, but Lee killed that hope the moment he opened his mouth.

"Well, we had to try," Lee declared.

Mason looked over and up because, of course, Lee was at least three inches taller than him. That would have been more annoying if Mason was at all insecure about his height, but at six foot he was comfortable. Also, he had a couple of inches on Michael, which helped.

Lee's hair looked practically white instead of its usual light blonde under the street lights' harsh glare, and his complexion seemed extra fair. Even his freckles were lost in the artificial light. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a single sign of worry on his face.

Maybe if Mason had Greek god powers, he would have been relaxed too, but he didn't. That call for adventure that Lee and Michael had just seemed like asking for trouble to Mason, the mere mortal. "Not with the worse fake IDs in history," Mason pointed out yet again.

"They were not that bad!" Michael was quick to defend.

This was not the first time Mason had heard that, and it didn't make it any less ridiculous. One of Michael and Lee's dads was literally a doctor that could heal people by touching them. There was no fucking excuse for their inability to see what was right in front of them. Why Michael had even bought the IDs, having seen them, Mason would never understand.

"They looked like they were hand-drawn by a preschool," Mason pointed out, "And the names were ridiculous."

"Pictures didn't look much like us," Lee agreed.

Michael let out a long, loud sigh, pushed a dark strand of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and into his eye line, and tucked it behind his ear. While Lee looked like the stereotypical California surfer dude, Michael almost looked Mediterranean. He had light brown hair that he had grown out over the last year and now almost exclusively wore tied up, and he naturally had a more tan, almost olive complexion. Even with the differences, it was impossible not to recognize the two as twins immediately. They both had the same sharp facial features, lean and athletic builds, and light blue eyes.

Mason was the obvious odd man out in the group. His hair was somewhere between a light brown and a dark blonde, and his eyes were hazel rather than blue. His build was boxier, and he was definitely wider in the shoulders than his cousins, but that might have been because he had been playing lacrosse since he was eight. His facial features were also a little more square and angular. It might not have been a stretch to believe the three of them were related, but no one was going to mistake them for triplets.

"Okay, that is enough with the pouting," Michael declared with just a little bit of annoyance in his voice. Mason was a little surprised it had taken that long because usually, the more outrageous and destined to fail one of Michael's plans were, the more annoyed he got when it did, in fact, fail. "At least we got a fun story out of it," he stated.

Knowing Michael, he really did see that as a win which was crazy. Mason fucking loved his cousins. They were literally his best friends and really always had been, but sometimes they were crazy to be around. Mason put that on all the demigod stuff. After all, if you have literally trained to fight monsters since you were a little kid getting fake IDs and trying to sneak into a twenty-one and over club probably didn't sound all that crazy.

Mason wasn't exactly a fucking nun. Sneaking into a bar didn't sound completely crazy but trying to get into a bar known for checking IDs with comically bad fake IDs did.

"We are lucky they didn't call the police," Mason pointed out flatly. The bouncer had decided to take pity on them for some reason after giving them one hell of a fucking lecture, and Mason would forever be grateful. "Or worse, our parents," he added with a shutter.

"What are you worried about?" Lee asked with a laugh, "Uncle Dean and Uncle Felix would have been totally cool."

Mason gave Lee a serious look. "Nothing about my parents is cool," he stated firmly, "No matter how many people say otherwise."

"You really are a master of denial," Lee commented teasingly before patting his shoulder and adding, "It's kind of impressive."

The fact was Mason was well aware that his dads were pretty cool. If they had been called and told Mason had been caught with a fake ID trying to sneak into a bar, they probably wouldn't have even yelled at him. Neither of them were big yellers. Mason would have gotten one hell of a disapproving lecture which Mason was convinced was worse than yelling ever could be. He definitely would have lost a whole bunch of privileges for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, Mason had been hearing about how cool his dads were since he could remember. The fact that Felix getting early releases of video games all the time helped. Dean always bringing Mason and his friends for ice cream after practice when he was younger didn't hurt. As he got older, he just became the one with the cool parents in all his friend groups. It got old after a while, and that was before the term DILF started getting thrown around.

He would have been more annoyed if it was anyone besides Lee and Michael. They had it just as bad as he did, even if it was slightly different. Uncle Nico was practically a legion among Demigods for all the questing he did as a teenager, and even if he had just sat on his ass, he was still the son of Hades, which was a big thing. Uncle Will didn't have the history with all the questing, but he played an important role in some battle, which was enough to give him some fame. The twins had to deal with their fair share of people going full-on hero-worship over their dads, and then there was the fact that Uncle Nico had worked as a model for like five years.

Mason might not have been truly pissed off, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to flip Lee off for that comment. He did grin as he did it, at least so it was clear that it was all good.

They had walked about half a block as they had talked, and they made it about a block more in silence before Michael huffed. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked. Mason went to answer but barely got an opportunity to take a breath before Michael held up a finger to cut him off. "And the answer of going home is not allowed, so just don't even say it," he stated firmly.

Mason didn't get why going home, playing video games, ordering a pizza, and hanging out was such a bad idea. His dads were out on a date night, so they probably would have had the house to themselves, not that that mattered. According to Michael, that was just not an acceptable way for them to spend their evening, and in fairness, he had made that clear before then. That didn't mean that wasn't exactly what Mason had been prepared to suggest, but he wasn't really surprised that Michael warned him not to before he got a chance.

Mason stopped and looked around to get a feel for where they were. Since they were in West Berkeley, it was more his stomping ground rather than the twins. If it were New Rome, the twins would have a list of places they could go and things they could do, so he guessed it was on him to at least come up with one suggestion.

If he was honest, he only had a vague idea of where they were, and it wasn't a part of the city he visited often, so he didn't have the best idea of what was around. Ultimately, he went with the first thing that came to mind. "There is a really cool vintage bookstore like two blocks from here," he stated, pointing in the direction he thought it was.

It might have been the first thing he had thought of, but Mason didn't think it was a half-bad idea. He had been to the place a few times with Dean because Dean had a radar for little bookstores, and it didn't matter what they were doing or where they were supposed to be; he had to go in. It was such a well-known fact that Felix always looked up where bookstores were when they went on vacation so they could plan when they went. The little bookstore that Mason couldn't remember the name of had actually been pretty cool.

"You found an answer worse than go home," Michael commented flatly, "Why do you hurt me like this?"

Mason rolled his eyes because now Michael was just overdramatic. "They serve coffee and stuff," he informed.

"Coffee actually sounds pretty fucking good," Lee admitted, which was a good sign. Of the two, Michael always wanted to do something big and over-the-top. Lee could be like that sometimes, but he was more likely to see reason when Michael was just suggesting something crazy. Usually, if Mason could get Lee on his side, he had a chance. If Lee backed Michael's idea, then it was only a matter of time before Mason agreed to whatever insanity had been planned.

Michael stared between Mason and Lee with clear disapproval. "We can not go from trying to sneak into a 21 and over club to drinking coffee in a used bookstore," he stated with disgust before just shaking his head with disappointment, "Honestly, what is wrong with you two?"

"Okay," Lee declared, managing to sound just as unamused by Michael as Michael was with them. Lee was infinitely better at dealing with his brother when he was being dramatic than Mason was. "How about we go into that pizza place-" he pointed past Mason toward a small pizza place just across the street from where they were standing, "-and talk to the cute girls that are walking in."

"Well, that doesn't sound like fun for me!" Michael grumbled as he turned and assessed the option for a split second. "Oh, there is a couple of boys that could be cute! I don't hate that idea."

Mason gave in and turned to see what they were talking about and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Oh my god, could you too stop staring," he hissed as he turned his back on the scene and hoped no one saw him.

They should have gone to New Rome.

Of course, both Michael and Lee were staring at him, and he knew they were going to ask. Neither of them was precisely known for letting things go either.

"What?" Mason shrugged, sounding more defensive than he meant to, "They are people from my school."

Michael and Lee exchanged a look that was never a good thing. It was one of those weird twin silent communication things they would do, and it usually meant they were about to tag team, Mason. It never worked out well.

"You know them?" Michael asked, although he managed to give the question far more weight than such a simple question should have had.

Lee was even less subtle as he stared at Mason with obvious suspicion, "How come we don't know them?"

Obviously, Michael and Lee didn't go to Mason's high school because they were in New Rome, but they hung around with Mason enough that they knew all of Mason's school friends and a fair number of his classmates. It wasn't necessarily weird that they didn't know someone that Mason knew from school, but it was a more rare occurrence. On this specific occasion, it actually made a lot of sense because they were people Mason only recently started getting to know.

"It looked like Theo and a few of the other kids from the theater club," Mason explained. Mason was not a theater kid. Even if he had wanted to be, he never would have had time with lacrosse and soccer. Since he was a junior and apparently would benefit from diversifying his afterschool activities (so saith his guidance counselor), he joined the AV club and somehow ended up helping with the school play, so he got to know some of the theater kids over the last few months. Not a big deal in the slightest. "And for the record, you two aren't entitled to know all my school friends," he pointed out just to prove a point.

Michael and Lee exchanged another look.

"Theo?" Lee questioned.

"Interesting," Michael commented.

Mason's heart jumped into his throat. Had he said that name? He hadn't meant to, but it must have just slipped out. He was absolutely fucked because the twins weren't going to let that go, and that was the last thing Mason needed. Theo was just a dude with great hair that made Mason feel weird sometimes, and he didn't want to talk about that.

Play it cool, Mason told himself through his internal panic. He shrugged, which felt like the most unnatural gesture ever. "He hangs out with a lot of the AV kids helping with the play," he explained. More accurately, he hung around many band kids helping with the play, and Mason had to adjust the audio equipment a fair amount. After talking a few times, Mason may have invited him to hang out with the AV kids, and the guy took him up on that. There was no fucking way he was telling Lee and Michael that story. "I've learned his name. It isn't a big deal," he stated. That at least was true, and no one would convince Mason otherwise.

Michael and Lee were silent for a long moment, just staring at him before Michael broke the silence. "You know what? Pizza sounds fantastic," He declared before turning on his heels and starting across the street. He was halfway across before he called over his shoulder, "And I love a good theater club. Always fun gays."

Lee patted Mason on the shoulder, which turned into him practically pushing Mason forward toward the pizza shop. "So, which one is Theo exactly," Lee asked in a mischievous tone.

Now Mason wished their wrong fake IDs had worked.

[killherfreakout]

i’ve got the touch placebo

elu au / 5.2k words

“You don’t remember a lot of things.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

or: Lucas kissed Eliott after a few too many one night; three times Eliott almost brings it up, and the one time he does.

:readmore:

It all started by accident, really. Eliott falling for Lucas, that is. He’s always had a little crush on his best friend, but one night changed everything. 

It all started when Lucas kissed him. But, you see, that’s the problem - that was months ago. Lucas kissed him, and absolutely nothing was different between them. Eliott doesn’t know if Lucas just regrets it and pretends it didn’t happen, or if he’s waiting for Eliott to bring it up, or worse: he doesn’t remember.

Sure, Lucas may have had a few too many that night, but was it really enough to make him forget? Enough to have absolutely no memory of something that completely turned Eliott’s world upside down?

If a drunken kiss was all it really was, Eliott doesn’t know what to do. But if it was more, he wouldn’t know the first thing either.  

Sometimes Eliott thinks he’s got enough love for the both of them, and perhaps that is enough. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself that it is.

*

Eliott is perched on the edge of Emma’s balcony where he slipped out of the party going on inside, opting for some fresh air and a smoke. The gang and the girls are celebrating the end of terminale and Eliott comes to join the fun even though he has another uni exam before he’s finally free. It’s a warm summer night and a slight breeze offers some relief from the muggy air and crowded apartment. The moon keeps him company until he’s joined by another warm body in search of his.

Lucas nearly trips over the lip of the balcony door and giggles at his own misstep. Eliott tries his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escapes, earning him a retort from the other boy.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Lucas asks after he tips back the rest of the bottle of vodka he’s holding, his voice higher than normal and cracking towards the end. It’s way too endearing for Eliott that he smiles around the rolled paper between his lips.

He doesn’t respond, and next thing he knows, Lucas lunges forward and snatches the joint right out of his hand in retaliation. Eliott looks at him in disbelief and Lucas has a devilish grin on his face, again way too endearing to be taken seriously. 

Lucas tilts his chin and chest out with pride and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long hit, breathing in deep and feeling the strength of the weed. He coughs and hands the joint back to its owner as he recovers.

“That is good shit, fuck,” Lucas adds when he regains his breath. “And expensive, I bet.”

Eliott does one of his signature shrugs. “I know a guy” is all he says to that.

Lucas scoffs at his smug reply and comes to join him on the edge of the balcony. He sits on the ledge with his back against the wall and hugs his legs close to his chest. Eliott’s heart skips a beat at how small he looks.

Lucas unwraps his arms and reaches one out to Eliott, a gap between his first and second fingers in a silent plea for the joint again. Eliott obliges and transfers it to him, hands touching for a fleeting moment - the weed is nothing in comparison to the high he gets from moments like this.

There’s a wrinkle in Lucas’ brow when he notices something. The joint in his hand points to Eliott’s, specifically a faint smudge of black on his right hand. 

“Otteli strikes again?” Lucas is amused at himself and Eliott tries not to indulge him. “I’m best friends with a famous urbex artist, I might have to use that as a pick up line someday.”

The words cut deep coming from him. Sometimes Eliott forgets about his enormous crush on his best friend because everything is so easy with them, but other times - like this - it’s hard to forget. Eliott hides behind the smoke, hoping his face doesn’t give him away.

“I‘m not sure how effective that will be, but...” he raises his hands in acquiescence. 

“Of course it will work!” Lucas’ voice is wet and nasaly and still fucking adorable. “I mean, you’re basically the French Banksy.”

“I wish,” Eliott laughs. “They’re rich and not just tagging places with their spirit animal.” He picks at his cuticles and stares at the remnants of spray paint on his skin, suddenly insecure and words sounding more bitter than he planned.

Something changes on Lucas’ face. “Your tag is fucking cool!” His face goes back to before, features softened by the weed and alcohol aglow in the city lights and embers of the joint. 

Eliott’s heart keeps skipping a beat at every compliment, but especially at the adorable declaration of the love of his silly signature raccoon tag.

“And need I remind you that you’re rich? I mean,” Lucas pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to prove his point.

Lucas hops down from the ledge and stumbles a bit; he finds the vodka bottle again and frowns when he realizes he already emptied it. 

“I may need to marry rich, what with the way my bac went, to be honest.” Lucas is walking across the balcony, bringing the heel of one shoe in front of the toes of the other, wobbling with each step.

He looks extremely focused even though his movements are lazy and slow. And suddenly he gasps as a lightbulb goes off in his head, face lighting up -  both Lucas and Eliott’s. “I know! I’ll just marry you if it doesn’t work out. There, problem solved.”

And no amount of warning could prepare Eliott for a sentence like that coming out of Lucas’ mouth. This time his heart drops straight down to the street two stories below.

Lucas nearly faceplants when he steps on his own shoelace, but Eliott slides off the ledge in time to catch him before he falls. They lock eyes for what feels like the first and only time ever; Lucas’ intense, big, blue doe eyes meeting his and quite literally steal his breath away.

Lucas retreats from their embrace for another hit, the joint burning shorter and shorter.

Eliott sputters, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he melts into a puddle. “We won’t be getting married if you keep smoking all of my weed,” he tries as a comeback. 

Lucas looks up at him like a deer in headlights or a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. He looks down at the joint that has about one hit left in it, then that devilish look grows on his face once again.

Eliott swears that time stops just for them as he watches every move Lucas makes like it’s at half speed. The joint is closed between Lucas’ bitten lips, and suddenly Eliott feels the smoke in his lungs when the other boy leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s so sudden and unexpected that it makes Eliott’s mouth open wider in a gasp, and Lucas takes it as an invitation to test the waters. He slips a tongue into Eliott’s open mouth, and Eliott thinks he is in both heaven and hell. 

Eliott instinctively reciprocates the kiss until he gets a grip and tastes the alcohol on Lucas’ tongue, reminding him of the fact that Lucas is not sober enough to warrant this. He pulls back, cheeks flushed, but Lucas looks unaffected - like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

Eliott’s phone rings in his pocket; turns out Idriss left his keys at the apartment and needs Eliott to let him in.

Lucas notices the interruption and, with a gravelly voice, says, “Sorry about the weed,” before stepping inside, tripping on the threshold again.

Eliott stares at the moon high in the sky who was witness to his entire world being flipped upside down. He takes a deep breath and walks down the stairs to retrieve his heart from the ground. 

1. 

Eliott is sitting on the dock of the lake with his feet dipping into the crystal blue water below, weight held up by his arms outstretched behind him. The remaining droplets on his tanning skin quickly evaporate into the warm summer air, leaving a cool sensation in their wake. 

There’s some shouting and splashing from the far side of the lake where Basile, Arthur, and Yann are jumping off the neighbor’s dock and trampoline. Eliott had his fun with them earlier and went for a cooldown on his own while he watched the guys perform backflip after backflip.

The usual suspects have all traveled to Arthur’s beach house to kick off the gang’s last summer before they go separate ways for university. The girls are here too; they went inside to fix dinner for everyone while the boys spent the sun’s dying hours out on the water.

Lucas is swimming his way back over to Arthur’s dock and Eliott sits up in anticipation of his return. 

It’s been a total of 72 hours since the night of the party. The night that the love of Eliott’s life and best friend of over 10 years had kissed him. Not so accidentally, but also not quite on purpose.

He hadn’t even had a full conversation with Lucas since that night - the day after the other boy had the world’s worst hangover, the next Eliott was taking his last final exam of the semester, and then they were at the lake. Lucas had fallen asleep against the window for most of the car ride and every other waking moment was full of Basile’s ill-timed jokes and Emma’s ramblings over her recent Tinder dates. 

In other words, there was no appropriate time or place to bring up the situation. No opportunity to ask, hey, remember when you kissed me haha? And Eliott didn’t want to say it like that, so nonchalant and in sing-song with a poke to the ribs. Because it meant something to him, more than he ever thought a drunken kiss could, and because it would kill him to make Lucas think that it meant anything less. 

It’s like that night Lucas gave him this enormous heavy feeling but in a physical form - held it in his hands and said here, hold this and left, but not without Eliott’s heart. And Eliott was left holding on to it, this thing he couldn’t quite find the word or feeling for, and a hole where his heart should be. And it’s softened now, melted, turned to liquid and still losing shape. And with every glance and hidden smile more and more slips from his hands. 

Eliott is violently brought back to his senses when everything in his vision is darkened by the shadow of Lucas climbing up the ladder of the dock and blocking the setting sun. Eliott’s eyes involuntarily rake down the boy before him, all sun-soaked skin and water dripping from every pore. He catches himself after a second too long, obvious even under the sunglasses he has on. He tilts his head back up to Lucas standing at the edge of the dock - taller than him for once - and the sight makes Eliott’s insides shift. 

Eliott’s eyes adjust to the lack of direct sunlight, squinting up at him. He watches as Lucas brings both of his hands through his wet locks, putting his skin on display as the water that Eliott swam in returns to the air, reflecting what’s left of the day’s rays as they go. Eliott feels a shiver run down his spine - be it at the sight in front of him or the now dry surface of his own skin.

“You coming?”

Before he realizes, there’s a hand being offered to him. Eliott’s brain is a few steps behind and he takes the hand when it catches up. Lucas pulls him up and he’s back to being the taller one, although he still feels at Lucas’ mercy. 

Lucas leads the way back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the dock and concrete of the patio. Eliott follows and uses the prints as relief from the scorching surface. Lucas grabs the towel hanging on the patio chair, rubs it into his wet hair, then lets the damp material hang around his neck. 

And there it is, finally: a moment where he could bring it up. A chance to give back the heavy, shifting feeling he’s been holding since. Ask him if he remembers, if he meant it, if he regrets it. The shapeless thing he carries starts to move again, starts to form into something akin to the shape he was given. He can give it back. 

Eliott stands there looking at Lucas, eyes flicking down to the lips he can’t stop thinking about on his own. They’re red and chapped now, a product of sun and salt. He holds in a breath and forces his eyes up to Lucas’, which are darting around the patio looking for something. 

The moment is there and then it’s gone - and the thing starts to slip yet again, just as the water had off of Lucas’ back. 

“Hey, did you bring any chapstick, by chance?” Lucas asks when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

That’s another thing that happens sometimes: Eliott thinks about something and the next minute Lucas brings it up, or vise versa. Like noticing his chapped lips conjured Lucas to search for relief. 

“Uh, yeah.” Eliott walks over to the bedroom he and Lucas and Arthur share through the back door and returns with it. 

He hands it over to Lucas; the gesture feels strangely intimate given the context of Eliott’s feelings toward him, the context that their lips have touched now. It feels coded with something more than a favor for a friend, and hurts more than it should. 

“Thanks,” Lucas says before removing the cap and pushing the balm onto the split skin. 

Eliott can imagine the minty balm stinging the cracks in the other boy’s lips and swears he can feel the same tingly sensation on his own, even without having used it all day. 

It’s entirely innocent, but it gets Eliott’s heartbeat to quicken at the thought of using the chapstick after him. It doesn’t have to mean anything - Lucas borrowing his chapstick - but it does. It’s as if the tube of balm is a placebo for the real thing - having his lips pressed to Lucas’ again - but still just as effective. 

And technically another moment presents itself: the topic of lips, specifically both of theirs, sharing something like the lip balm. 

Think, Eliott, think. He could casually comment on the party, ask how bad the hangover was, anything to get the ball rolling. But the second Lucas returns his gaze and places the tube in his hands again, all rational thought leaves his mind at once. 

The silence is starting to grow uncomfortable until Lucas breaks it.

“How was your exam, by the way?” He shoves some hair behind his ear and rubs his lips together to spread the product.

“Uh, it was fine,” Eliott answers, watching the movement. Something blooms in his chest at Lucas asking about it, the genuine curiosity present on his golden face.

Say something, anything about the party. 

He gets an idea. 

“You know—” He stops when Lucas puts the towel back on the chair to dry. The remaining sunlight hits just right, the balm on his lips shiny and intoxicating. Eliott swallows and starts again. “You know, if college doesn’t work out I could always marr—” 

“Lucas, there you are!” Arthur shouts as the trio come walking through the patio to get inside.

The look on the younger boy’s face turns bright at the sight of his friends, high points of his cheeks dusted pink with sun and stars sprinkled on his nose in the form of freckles. Yann shoves his shoulder and the skin turns white before returning to the pinkish tan. The skin is soon covered in cotton when Lucas shrugs his shirt on. 

Lucas bites the corner of his bottom lip and gives Eliott a glance over his shoulder when he follows the guys inside - a glance that could be saying something, but Eliott’s not sure what.

Eliott makes his way to the kitchen and pours some drinks and thanks the girls for preparing the meal. Everyone sits around the counter and some at the table nearby; Lucas takes the seat across from him. 

There’s chatter between the girls and the gang that Eliott feels slightly disconnected from, but he focuses on filling his empty stomach with food. 

“Eli, what were you going to say, outside?” Lucas inquires, not in a whisper but not loud enough to draw attention towards them.

And there’s another moment, right there for the taking. Lucas literally asks about it - possibly without even intending to. 

Lucas looks at him while taking another bite then puts his fork down to take his napkin and wipe the pasta sauce - and chapstick - off his mouth. 

Eliott’s chest feels tight again, the heavy feeling still there but no longer physically. No way he can hold it and give it back now. The moment is gone like the sun for the day, only leaving what it has touched behind.

The placebo burns a hole in the pocket of his boardshorts. “It was nothing.”

2.

Eliott hates drinking. He’s not a fan of the taste of beer, wine is okay only if it’s expensive, and liquor is gross unless mixed with so much sugar that makes the hangover even worse than straight alcohol.

He finds himself in a gay bar with Lucas celebrating Mika’s half-birthday because Mika decided that ‘6 months is too long’ to celebrate.

It has now been two months since the kiss and neither of them have said a word about it. The unnamed thing Lucas dropped into his hands has vanished, no way of returning it to its owner. Every day is harder to pretend and even harder to speak up. 

The birthday boy is already on his way to being wasted living it up on the dance floor and Eliott sits next to Lucas at the bar. Lucas is on his second beer and Eliott has a melting vodka tonic in front of him. The DJ takes a short break and the music changes to quieter radio jams through the house speakers instead of the mixing table.

“So?” Lucas asks behind his beer bottle, tilting his chin in the direction of a handsome guy across the bar. “Aren’t you gonna go over there and talk to him?”

Eliott looks at the sweaty glass on the countertop and quickly glances over to the him Lucas refers. He picks up the glass and raises it in the guy’s direction as a thank you and sips the thin black straw. It’s strong but watery and makes his lips pucker.

“Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to make the move?” Eliott answers Lucas’ question with one of his own and flags the bartender for water instead.

Lucas points to the drink. “Well, technically, he already did.” Eliott huffs. 

The music picks up again as the DJ puts on another mix, volume even louder than before, or perhaps it’s just loud in comparison to the radio.

Eliott raises his voice and leans into Lucas’ ear. “What if I’m not interested?”

When he pulls back, they share a look similar to the one at Arthur’s lakehouse with the same indescribable meaning. There’s also something different this time in the way Lucas intentionally keeps his gaze. 

It’s dark on this side of the club but when the flashing lights hit the side of Lucas’ face he notices the contrast of his crystal eyes and his blown pupils. Eliott thinks if he stares any longer he’ll drown in their oceans.

To stay afloat, Eliott turns back toward the mirrored wall behind the bar and grabs his water to sip. The second the liquid touches his tongue he realizes it’s not the water he reached for, but the vodka soda. He winces in reaction and shoves the glass toward the lip of the counter out of his reach.

He can feel Lucas’ eyes on him and then in the direction of the sender of the drink. Eliott gathers the courage to look again, but he shouldn’t have - the determined scowl of his brow hurts more than the back of his throat when he puts together what Lucas plans to do.

Lucas reaches for the drink at the edge of the bar and brings it to his lips, tongue darting out to catch the thin black straw he closes his lips around, downing as much of the concoction as he can stomach. 

Still looking at the guy across the bar, Lucas says, “Then I’ll tell him you say thanks for the drink.” 

Eliott’s soul is soaked when he sees the blue of Lucas' glance as he makes his way over to the other end of the bar.

Over the next two hours Eliott nurses his glass of water from his seat and tortures himself by watching Lucas dance dangerously close to the stranger that hit on him with a new drink in hand.

Eliott directs his attention to the glass Lucas emptied when it gets too much to bear. The black straw sits in the glass of ice staring him down and he gets a new urge to drink the remnants of alcohol from it. Perhaps it’s a new prescription of placebo that would work better than the drink itself.

Eliott steps out for a cigarette later, in need of the fresh air more than the smoke in his lungs, but it gives him something to do instead of sulking in a room of dancing strangers. 

Lucas comes to find him minutes after, no handsome stranger on his arm. 

“Okay. My head hurts so bad I can’t stay a second longer,” he says instead of a greeting, words slurred and movements wobbly. 

“Where’s Mika?” Eliott asks, helping him stand up straighter.

Lucas giggles. “He went home with a guy like two hours ago.”

“Oh,” he hadn’t even noticed. “What about the guy and the drink?” Eliott clenches his jaw and looks around expecting him to show up.

Lucas giggles again, and the sound makes Eliott’s heart flutter - it flutters then stops at what he says next.

“Don’t worry, Demaury, no one is coming between our eventual marriage.”

Eliott trips on a bump in the sidewalk and Lucas falls into his side. 

And just like that, he’s back at the lake again – the sting of a moment there and gone – and he’s sinking deeper and deeper.

3.

Everything seems to happen by accident ever since the night on the balcony. 

Eliott hadn’t even planned on going back to Lucas’ flat, but after the party was shut down prematurely, Lucas asked if he wanted to come inside for another beer. And it’s not like Eliott had the heart to say no. He definitely didn’t plan to stay this late, but he also doesn’t want to leave.

“I thought you said you were going to lay off the weed now that you’re ‘taking your studies seriously.’” Eliott grins as he watches Lucas light the joint hanging from his lips. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” says Lucas, leaning his head back on the couch and releasing smoke from his lips. 

His pursed lips carve out the hollows of his cheekbones and plants a rather dirty image in Eliott’s mind. The movement also makes his hair bounce a little; it’s messy and fluffy from when he shrugged his hoodie off when they came inside. Eliott has to busy his hands with the frayed edge of his jeans so as to not reach out and touch.

Eliott pivots from his stare and instead laughs at Lucas’ nonchalance and the irony that he said that while high.

Lucas’ eyes stay closed for a moment before slowly blinking them back open. His long lashes fan over his cheeks like that of a renaissance painting as he’s bathed in a muted golden light from the kitchen. The eyes underneath them look tired, probably due to the lack of sleep that comes with the first year of university Eliott knows too well. The oceans of blue aren’t any less breathtaking, though; Eliott has to look away before he drowns in them once again.

Eliott takes a sip from the plastic cup he filled with water once it was empty of beer. He feels his heart shift and twists in his chest like it does when he looks at Lucas too long, performing a somersault when he feels the ghost of those lips on his. 

Eliott’s words just slip out, his mumbling echoes in the plastic pressed to his lips. “Yeah, you don’t remember a lot of things.” 

It’s almost quiet enough that he could have gotten away with it, but not quite. He can tell he’s been caught by the furrow of Lucas’ brow and the confused tilt of his head - which is way more endearing than it should be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas’ voice cracks slightly when he asks, those oceans looking like high tide. Eliott’s heart drops to his stomach at the question. Does he tell him, or does he keep that kiss locked away as the secret they didn’t know they were keeping?

Lucas slowly wets his lips and worries one between his teeth in anticipation. It’s like a knife to Eliott’s gut, piercing through his heart where it rests there. 

Eliott scrambles for an answer, panicking and lacking the courage to tell the truth. “I mean maybe this is all going to your head.” He makes a vague gesture to the smoke wafting the air between them. Not like he meant anything else.

Lucas takes a page out of his book and gives him a one-shouldered shrug before sitting up and putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. He takes a moment like he’s trying to decide his next move, then gets up and runs a hand through his hair. God, that hair.

He goes to the kitchen and cleans up, leaving Eliott to sit in the awkward space he left. Eliott takes his phone out of his pocket and checks his notifications, noticing it’s already almost 4am. As in, no buses back to his place at this hour.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m super tired so,” Lucas turns his body in the direction of his bedroom indicating he’s going to turn in.

“Yeah, um,” is all Eliott can find in response, shifting on the couch to settle into a position for sleep.

“Come on, Eliott, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re literally too tall and don’t even fit on that couch. Come on,” Lucas insists, cracking a smile.

And what is he supposed to do, deny him? 

So they fall asleep in Lucas’ bed — without bringing up the kiss. Eliott doesn’t know how much longer he can breathe under the pressure. 

+1

Eliott startles awake with Lucas too close for comfort; they’re facing each other in the middle of the bed even though there’s plenty of room on either side.

Lucas is wearing an expression he’s never seen before, although he never seems to be able to read him these days. Eliott wants to ask about it, but gets lost in those eyes again, looking tired but somehow refreshed like he’s been awake for a while.

And Lucas does that thing again, bringing up what he’s thinking without fail.

“We’re okay, right?” Lucas asks softly, like the words burn on his tongue as he says them.

Eliott studies his face again, an openness to it that wasn’t there before – like he wants to talk about it seriously this time, no more dancing around.

“Yeah, of course,” he takes a breath and lowers his tone, matching the sincerity of Lucas’, “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 Lucas twists his mouth and answers, “I just, I feel like things have been weird between us since Mika’s half-birthday. Is there— did I do something?”

And do something he did - he brought up their wedding talk on the way home and basically confirmed he remembers that night at Emma’s, and maybe the kiss. But Eliott can’t find it in him to ask, but can’t stand not asking any longer.

Lucas looks expectant now, an adorable wrinkle forms on his forehead and those eyes are crystal clear. If it’s his eyes that pull him in, it’s his lips that pull him under.

Eliott removes his hand from under his pillow and slowly raises it near Lucas’ face resting in front of him. Eliott’s gaze is drawn to those lips again, the ones he can’t ever seem to stop thinking about in the phantom touch from months ago. Lucas’ tongue peeks out to wet them followed by teeth trapping one, which makes Eliott sink further. 

His hand tenderly brushes Lucas’ rosy cheek and thumb rests near the corner of his mouth, the touch causing Lucas’ breath to hitch and release the pillowy flesh from his teeth.

Eliott quickly looks up at Lucas again, only to find the other boy’s eyes trained on Eliott’s lips now. It’s enough confirmation Eliott needs to do what he’s been wanting to since the day at the lake. And he doesn’t want to swim around it anymore, it’s finally time to reveal the truth.

He delicately strokes his thumb over Lucas’ red bitten bottom lip. “You really don’t remember?” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lucas speechless before, at least not like this. Perhaps absentmindedly Eliott strokes his lips again, and it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s had since the one on the balcony. It’s too much and not enough, and also the closest placebo to the real thing.

Eliott suddenly gets nervous that Lucas has no idea what he’s talking about, and that the breath caught in the other boy’s throat is not a sign of remembrance but of surprise to the incredibly intimate touch without the context of that night.

He hopes he hasn’t misread Lucas’ mind, for that would be the first time they’ve been on different wavelengths in years. Sure this whole fiasco was push and pull of avoiding the truth, but there was always some unspoken understanding present even so. Eliott feels he’s in too deep and Lucas is just floating, too much darkness and pressure between them. 

Eliott retracts his hand like he’s caught flame, silently begging for forgiveness as he meets Lucas’ eyes again. 

And this time it’s Eliott who can’t breathe. Lucas inches even closer, eyes flicking back down to Eliott’s lips once more. He whispers hotly in the limited space between their lips. “Make me remember.”

After days and weeks and months of waiting, dying, drowning, Eliott gets his fix as Lucas presses his sinful lips in a kiss – a completely and intentionally purposeful kiss. A kiss that pulls Eliott up so quickly he gets the bends, muscles and bones aching from the speed of his ascent, head and heart feeling lighter than ever.

“Lucas—” Eliott sighs, everything this means dawning on him.

“I know. Me too,” Lucas interrupts before locking Eliott’s lips again.

They indulge in the taste of each other with nothing to hold them down, eager and wanting like all kisses should be. He’ll never have to refill the script for placebo ever again, too busy getting high on the real thing.

[lemonietrinket]

Warnings: body insecurities (kept vague, but focusing around chest and stomach), general feelings of upset, tears, swearing (1x f**k) Yuta x Fem!Insecure!reader

~~~ 

“Hey love.”

Yuta’s voice brought you out of your book, quickly drawing your attention towards the opposite end of the sofa where he sat.

“Yeah baby?”

“I’m cold.” You watched as his hands, strong and tender, patted his thighs. “Come and sit here?”

You felt discomfort rise in your heart as you tried to dip yourself away from the request. “But I’m comfy here.”

His beautiful chestnut eyes were unwavering. You knew it was difficult to not collapse under his gaze, but normally you would put up a fight and try to look into them in return. Now, you couldn’t bear the feel of them staring into your soul—you didn’t want to admit to him what was down there. 

“But you’ll be comfier on me,” he counters.

You knew he was right, and deep down you wanted to rest your full weight upon him and let yourself sink into his touch, but something always stopped you. Insecurities were powerful things after all. You knew you’d stayed silent for too long, and by now the time had passed to try and come up with an excuse, and so you opted to try and focus on the good and ignore the weight in the pit of your stomach. 

Taking your time to place the bookmark between the pages, stalling so obviously that even you noticed it, you left your book and slunk across the cushions to where he sat.

Readying yourself to sit with your back to his chest, he stopped you.  “Sit facing me?” He pouted shamelessly. 

You did as he suggested, slightly concerned about how you couldn’t wipe the worry off your face and out of your mind. The pit grew in your stomach, twisting and turning, because it hurt to have your insecurities hold you back, for this to have been the first time you’d sat like this, even though you’d longed to ever since you started your relationship with the man of your dreams.

But that was where the problems were situated. You’d never had any problems with him holding you from behind pressed flush against his chest, or even entwined side to side.  It was just the front. 

“Love, are you ok?” Yuta’s voice was soft and careful as you sat upon his lap, your back rigid and your body leant away from him.

You nodded, pulling a smile as genuinely as you could. “Yeah!”

“But you’re not, are you?” Of course he saw through it all. “Why won’t you lay against me, love?”

You were stunned into silence. You’d spent so long ignoring the issue that you had no idea how to respond when it was finally, and inevitably, brought up. 

Yuta’s hand reached up tentatively, careful to move only where you could see them, before resting against your cheek, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort there. He caressed the skin he found there, touch delicate as if he was afraid to hurt you, as he continued, “Because even when I hug you, you pull away, a-and I’m worried that I’m going to one day place my hand where you don’t want it and hurt you, and...” he trailed off as he searched for the words.

You’d never seen him this serious, in fact you’d never heard him stutter. His features were hard set but creased, his eyes were darker but glistening. He was no longer playful, he was worried. He was scared something was wrong. 

You meanwhile could not put any words into your own mouth. You sat with your hands clasped at your chest, willing the constriction in your throat to ebb away so you could regain control of yourself.

“Please, love, tell me what’s hurting you so I can help,” he pleaded, thumb drawing the tresses of your hair away from your face, “or if it’s my fault so I can stop, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have, if I have.”

Your thoughts swarmed. He couldn’t be more wrong. It was you that had pushed him away physically this whole time, it was you that had not let his hands rest anywhere near your torso. You’d been so adamant yet hadn’t thought about the toll on him. 

Tears spilled straight into his finger tips, and he calmly collected them, letting the outpour of your insecurities sink into his skin.  

You took the deepest breath you could manage—you couldn’t blame yourself for it. Insecurities were a part of life, but that didn’t mean you had to let them rule it.

“It’s not your fault, Yuta, it’s not anything you’ve done, I promise you it’s not,” you explained as clearly as you could. Swallowing thickly, you willed yourself on, “It’s just that... I have these insecurities... I don’t like...” your hand vaguely gestured to your chest as you gave him a brave look, “you must know that this is hardly what people want. It’s hardly normal. Or cute. It’s not attractive, I’m not symmetrical—”

“No one is—”

“But I’m not small either, Yuta! Neither am I big! I fall between two stools and I don’t feel worthy of either appreciation and this just reminds me of it,” you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek, “I don’t want to push you away, but I hate the fact that I look the way I do. And there’s nothing I can do about it! I can’t wear my dream clothes because of it, I’m paranoid that people will notice because it’s right there, and I can’t help but just... not let you hold me there.”

You hadn’t noticed your eyes had fallen to look at the arm of the sofa, staring plainly at the black leather as his hand cradled your cheek. As you realised you owed him the courtesy of at least looking at him, you lifted your gaze only to find his eyes wet. He wasn’t crying, but there were signs of tears in the frames of his eyes. His beautiful, deep hazel eyes.

“Y/n, love, why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he said, his voice the quietest you’d ever heard, “I know one person’s words is not going to change years of worry and hurt but please listen to me when I tell you that I think you are beautiful. And that there is nothing wrong with you. And that you can still wear your dream clothes, and not fear that anyone will notice because they won’t—”

“Didn’t you?” 

“Yes, but,” his voice was desperate, his other hand stroking your temple nearly frantically, “not in the way you would imagine, I only spotted the padding one time—the more important part here is that I don’t think any less of you. You’re still my love, you’re still gorgeous and you’re still the hilarious, insanely clever woman I fell in love with, and these things only make you more special to me.

“No one is ever the standard, and I would never expect you to be,” he slowed down, the frown in his features easing, “I just want to hold my girl like she wants to hold me. And if anyone tries to tell you any different then they can literally go and fuck themselves.”

You felt your defences crumple as your face melted, sobs wracking your body. Not out of pain this time, but rather out of his words. They’d what you’d been waiting for, for years, and the small irrational part of you had begun to swell and say they would never come. But there they were. 

You sank into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively whilst you cried openly into his sweatshirt. No more pushing, no more hiding. You had nothing to fear; you could finally make your way along the road to recovery. It wouldn’t be an easy journey, and there would be times where you’d lose your way, but you weren’t alone, and that was a start. 

~~~

AN: Is this entirely self indulgent? Yes. Was it necessary for my own mental health? Yes. Is it a problem many people face? Yes. Therefore it is here.

After seeing many fics on here focus around feeling worried about body insecurities, as someone who also has these insecurities I thought I’d add some emotional support to the mix too. Though this one focuses around something else, not just about being bigger than society’s standards (though kudos to all the fic writers who do offer emotional support around this topic, you’re amazing!) I hope it finds its home somewhere out there, as I can’t be the only one. I know I haven’t been specific to what it is, but, if you know, you know. 

Anyway, everyone who doesn’t fit and conform to society’s standards, and are afraid that people will find you unnattractive and won’t want you, please stay strong!

I know I’m just some weird writer on tumblr but I promise that you are beautiful, you are valid and important and people will adore you for all of your quirks. It’s important to remember that you are more than your body too, and that is what people fall in love with in the end, so even if things seem hard, do not lose hope

There are nearly 8 billion people on this planet, there’s got to be at least one amazing one for you, and you’re going to be one amazing one to so many.

peace, Lemonie

Masterlist

[sayakxmi]

So, about the post I made earlier; I promised to elaborate.

First of all, saying that Hakuryuu’s too focused on his past is unquestionable. Most of his decisions and actions are influenced by his thirst for revenge. Naturally, it’s hard to blame him for living in the past - trauma’s a bitch, and he never got a chance to heal or even forget* because his abuser was way too close and he was too helpless to change that. That is, until he and Judar joined forces, and the civil war was started. Then again, he didn’t really get rid of her, but at least for a while he was victorious.

Going back to the original topic - obviously, Hakuryuu was mainly focused on the past at first, and then, when he gained power thanks to Judar, he began focusing on the present (to some extent). He was still heavily influenced by the past, but because of Judar and Belial, he was finally allowed to act, so he did.

*That’s not entirely correct, as he did have a chance to forget for a while - in Sindria, when he met and later travelled with Aladdin, Alibaba & Morgiana - until the Umm Madaura fiasco.

What he wasn’t concerned too much with was the future. He was ready to forfeit it as long as he reached his goal. He also couldn’t be bothered to think about any possible consequences that would follow the end of the civil war.

I think it’s safe to say that the first moment he begins letting go of his past is when he decides not to kill Kouen - when he finally realizes that he went a little too far, and if he keeps it up, there’ll be nothing of him left. The second important moment is his promise to protect Kou - that’s where he begins to think about the future as well, and slowly starts to head towards some kind of stability.

Alibaba being focused on the present is a pretty obvious conclusion to come to. It is in no way saying that he’s not influenced by his past - he certainly is, as it made him insecure and slightly prone to self-hatred - but he’s more than willing to ignore it all and focus on what’s happening in front of him.

This mentality likely has its roots in his early life in the slums, partly because he had no past to dwell on, and partly because the people who loved him (like Anise and Cassim) tried to make sure he didn’t worry about the future, at least for a while. But even when Anise died and Cassim became distant, he was still more interested in surviving and living happily with what remained of his family than just being sad or changing the world they lived in. As long as they were together, he was content, even in extreme poverty.

To jump ahead - even after Cassim’s betrayal, Alibaba kind of moved on. He fled Balbadd, found himself a job, and just lived day after day. He did the best he could do in the moment. And then he met Aladdin, they conquered a Dungeon, and inspired by the magi’s words, Alibaba found it in himself to go back to the country of his origins. Once again he met Cassim, and instead of holding his betrayal against him, Alibaba decides to focus more on what he can do for Balbadd in the here and now.

I would say that the subtle process of Alibaba letting go of his past takes place from the end of the Balbadd Arc (specifically his last conversation with Cassim) to the World Exploration Arc, where he fuses with his magoi, with one of the more important moments being Alibaba telling Hakuryuu that he won’t hate him*.

*I think it’s important, because, well, it would’ve been more understandable, reasonable even, for Alibaba to despise Hakuryuu for being Kou (a Kou prince no less!), but he literally says, “I don’t hate you. That’s what I decided”. Alibaba thought about it, and he made a conscious choice to not hold the past against Hakuryuu, or even other people later on (eg. Olba, Kouen and Koumei, and Sinbad).

The other part of the development is something we’ve been deprived of - Alibaba learning to think about the future. We can add it to the long list of things we should’ve been shown in the Final Arc but weren’t. What we did see, however, was the outcome. During his talk with Sinbad (and Arba), Alibaba says that not worrying about the future and focusing on living the best he can now, is something his past self would’ve thought, but he had changed. And thanks to the fact that he’s not solely focused on the present anymore, he manages to catch Sinbad’s attention, and slowly change his mind.

Sinbad’s main focus has been the future ever since he entered Baal*; whatever he did, he had a goal in mind, a place he needed to reach. For said future he was willing to accept his past as a necessity, and to keep going - because he wasn’t satisfied with what he’d already achieved.

*I believe that was when he started to focus on the future, though it was a slow process at the beginning. Similarly to Hakuryuu, conquering a Dungeon allowed him to turn his dreams into actual goals with a possibility of achieving them. These goals were later solidified in Valefor, as he told everyone present that he wanted to create a country, and then as the series progressed, especially by the end of and after the Slave Arc, he began to make more and more sacrifices for the sake of his goals.

To clarify, Sinbad did not let his past go, not really. The fact that he was half-fallen was tied to his inability to move on (understandable, again, trauma), but he started to see all the things that happened as unavoidable means to an end. “Stepping stones”, quoting the man himself.

That past, again, led to his willingness to sacrifice the present for the sake of some far-fetched goals. After everything he’d already lost (his family, peace of mind, his found family, and then his country) for the sake of the future he’d promised them, he couldn’t just quit; it would make his people’s deaths pointless if he faltered. So he didn’t.

For the sake of the future, he was willing to use and -  if it came to it - sacrifice other people, even innocent ones, like Kougyoku, Aladdin or Alibaba. But then he succeeded, and realized it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. 

His important realization happened in the Final Arc, as he was trying to reach the Sacred Palace with Arba. It’s when he came to terms that there are things he simply wants to do, even if they aren’t going to help anybody but him, even if they might have disastrous consequences in the future - for him or others.

I believe the gradual development of the process was later confirmed, when he decided not to continue his plan of turning everything to Rukh, and trying a different way that wouldn’t, well, kill everybody in the process.

Many thanks to @zed-27, who proofread the whole thing!

[hawkland]

Dear Smut4Smut creator

Letter for the 2021 Smut 4 Smut exchange

My AO3 profile: sidewinder

Thank you for writing or creating art for me! I know I’ll be thrilled with whatever you come up with for any of my requests. (And if I babble on or have more prompts for one ship than another, don’t take that as any kind of preference. Some I just am more specific in the kinds of smutty scenarios I’m requesting/wanting at this time, but I love them all the same.)

Please consider the requested tags all the “prompt” you need if so inspired, if none of my suggested scenarios and ideas inspire you. Also, of course, feel free to combine them or use only one as you see fit! 

General Likes

Non-penetrative sex (especially in first-time scenarios). I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, mutual hand jobs, characters so turned on and overwhelmed that they come from barely being touched/before they can get all their clothes off, etc.

Romantic smut more than really kinky smut (though a bit of light bondage/restraint can be fun!)

That said, I have a definite weakness for wing!kink and tentacles... where appropriate :) 

Generally stoic/repressed/strong characters breaking down and needing comfort/hugs/acceptance of their vulnerabilities

Inverted relationship power dynamics - in the sense of a seemingly older and/or more powerful character actually being less experienced in sex/romantic relationships, or having more doubts & insecurities, and needing the younger/less powerful character to take the lead or reassure them.

In art - I really love all styles of fan art and just seeing how different artists interpret my favorite characters. Seriously, and that’s not just a cop-out because I’m crappy at coming up with art-specific prompts.

General Do No Wants

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth

formalized BDSM relationships

non-canon gender identities and/or sexual orientations except gay/bi/pan for requested ships/characters 

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/genderswap/coffee shop/etc (however, canon-divergent AUs completely fine!)

Supernatural-Castiel/Dean Winchester

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: Bad ending/unhappy-ever-after, Sam-bashing, any suggestions of Wincest

I confess I am a very new Destiel-shipper/SPN fan, having only gotten into the show late last year (post-finale.) So while I know there are mountains of stories already written about this ship, sometimes it’s nigh impossible to dig through it all to find stories that scratch the specific fic cravings I have. Hence all the prompts/ideas for them here, some of which I’m sure have been done to death already...but please humor me :)

Long Prolonged Make-Outs

Kissing All Over

Frottage

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative 

First Time with Partner of the Same Gender

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Experience - Experienced Partner Lets Inexperienced One Explore Them

Playful Sex

Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before)

I love everything about newly-human!Cas in season 9 (and Cas’s hedonistic tendencies in general). I have to imagine that, as a human, he just feels things with an intensity that angels just don’t feel, as if with human lifetimes so condensed, their senses are intensified to make up for it in a way that would be overwhelming for a hugely powerful/nearly immortal creature like an angel.

So give me any story about Cas’ exploring and fully embracing the sensual pleasures of sex (with Dean). I love Season 9 canon-divergence fics where Dean lets him stay in the bunker. Perhaps after his first taste of sex with April, Cas wants to add to his experiences by having sex with a male-bodied human/someone he deeply cares about (ie, DEAN). Dean may still be struggling with his own internalized homo/bi-phobia but it’s hard for him to resist Cas with his insatiable curiosity about how the human body works, having no filters/no taboos and just wanting to taste/touch/experience until he/they both are completely overwhelmed.

Wings as Erogenous Zones

Wing Kink

I love wings and true-form Cas as well. In fact I’m totally okay with canon-compliant, post-finale fic in Heaven if it means Dean can finally see/experience Cas’s true form (or at least glimpses/parts of it) without dying (because, you know, already dead and all that.) Otherwise, I’m always up for AUs where Dean can sense/feel/see Cas’s wings (if Cas wants him to) and they are an incredible erogenous zone for the angel. Maybe even his most powerful one.

Touching All Over

Touch-starved character overwhelmed from seemingly innocent touches

Touch-starved

Awkward First Times

Trauma Recovery

thank god you're/we're alive sex

Tender Sex with Lots of Eye Contact & Barely Repressed Feelings

Tender Sex

Shame in Sexual Desires

Room-Wrecking Sex

Reunion Sex

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex

Desperate Sex

Sex gets paused to deal with PTSD then maybe returned to 

I’ll take all the Cas-is-back, ignore-the-finale fics that are possible. Give me touch-starved Cas after his rescue from The Empty. (Dean can be fully into immediately satisfying his needs or, for angst, still struggling with/unsure of his feelings/sexuality.) It’s tender and healing, or maybe it’s explosive with all those years of pent-up desire and needs. You tell me, I love it all!

Sex While Washing Off The Blood of Their Enemies

Sex While Covered In The Blood of Their Enemies

sex under the stars

Outdoor Sex

Car Sex - on the hood of a car

Car Sex - in the back seat

Hotel Sex

tender making out in a car

sex after a long car ride

For these tags, I’m thinking canon-divergent future-fic where Dean is getting older (maybe Cas is too, if he’s lost his grace), yet they still go out on hunts together on occasion to relive the “glory days”. (Sam’s happily settled down and out of the hunting life with Eileen). They enjoy post-hunt sex in the outdoors or in/on the car, or seedy motel, reveling in the adrenaline of the kill, reaffirming their need and love for each other. Yum.

Supernatural - Endverse Castiel/Dean Winchester/Endverse Dean Winchester 

Desperate Sex

Threesome - M/M/M

Threesome - Character/Crush/Another Version of Crush

Turned On By Violence

One last fuck before you die

Drugs - Drug Use

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger version of someone you know in your own timeline

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger self

Pairing-Specific DNWs: None here. Go as dark as you want, since it’s Endverse.

Um, yeah. Pretty much what the tags suggest. Dean knows its freaky as hell but maybe he catches his future self and Cas having sex and they invite him in. Maybe he sees it as a chance to be with Cas (even this very different Cas) like he can’t in his own time. Castiel is totally messed up over seeing the man he had fallen in love with (and fallen from grace for) as he had been, back then, and can’t contain himself now that he’s gone so deep into carnal/hedonistic pleasures.

The Orville - Gordon Malloy/Ed Mercer

thank god you're/we're alive sex

"We Lived" Kiss Reveals Feelings

Stranded - On Another Planet/World With No Way Home

Huddling For Warmth Leads To Sex

on the run together

Desperate Sex

One last fuck before you die

Fandom-specific Do Not Want: No Kelly-bashing.

I’d love something set in the alternative universe/timeline of “The Road Not Taken”, where the Kaylons have won, leaving Gordon and Ed on the run together.  Just, any kind of desperate situation where they know they could die at any moment, so they might as well seek whatever comfort, love and tenderness they can find being with each other.

Laughter During Sex

Awkward First Times

Friends to Lovers

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative

Frottage

Something Made Them Do It

Drugs - Experimental Substance Has Weird Sexual Side Effects

Casual Sex while Secretly Pining

Laughter During Sex

Something fun and silly (and sexy), please, using any of these tags! The show just screams out for tropey “something made them do it” scenarios, be it due to aliens, alien food or drink, whatever. Otherwise I’d love a story where they realize they do have more serious feelings for each other than their (up til then) casual relationship has allowed.

The Good Place - Michael/Eleanor Shellstrop

Tentacles - Tentacle Sex

Tentacles

Xeno - Nonhuman Partner is Ashamed of Their Body

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Awkward First Times 

Laughter During Sex

romantic sex

Tentacles - Gentle and Tender Tentacle Sex with Lots of Caresses and Cuddles

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: No Chidi-bashing (but also, no Chidi/Eleanor endgame references/suggestions).

The ship/canon where I will eternally want tentacle smut! Michael seems so ashamed of his fire-squid demon form. I want him to find out that Eleanor actually finds it kind of a turn-on and would love to find a way she could...experience it. Since we know Michael can create simulations/realities (like he does in “The Trolley Problem”), maybe he can create one where Eleanor can see/experience a version of himself that won’t, you know, destroy the entire neighborhood or burn her to a crisp?

Otherwise I’m good with any kind of first-time scenario in one of Michael’s “reboots” (or later on when they’ve figured things out and are in Michael’s Neighborhood Improvement Experiment). Awkward Michael figuring out his human body’s reactions to Eleanor, them having fun and romantic sex, would definitely make my heart happy.

[tzdkh-archive]

@no-file asked:

(▰˘◡˘▰) u kno who

there’s something wrong with wrench. well, there are a lot of things wrong with wrench, a mile high list, single spaced, typed in comic sans - because he was a heathen. but there was a specific thing wrong with wrench these days, and it had to do with puppy.

 see, wrench was well known for a few things on the streets - anarchy, explosions, his shitty tattoos, and his overall love for all things violent - but he was also known in dedsec for his inappropriate crushes, so much so that it had become a bit of a joke with its members.

if there was a piece of technology, or an extremely weird and thoroughly unavailable person in their midst, wrench was going to develop a crush on them. it was just how it was. which...

  the sky (sometimes) was blue, cats were all spies from heaven, and wrench had a crush on puppy. which he could deal with, he could, if it wasn’t quickly turning into territory he knew only vaguely of: genuine attraction.

 puppy had a… thing about him, many things in fact, that wrench liked. the right mix of toned human flesh and technology, a decent sense of fashion, a taste for violence, dumb humor. but there were other things too, things he was still learning to deal with. the way he looked soaked in someone else’s blood. the way he smelled after a good outing. the one fucking time, wrench had fallen asleep on the couch and woken curled into puppy’s side like some kind of old-time movie girl with a partially cybernetic arm curled around his shoulders.

 but above all those things was the way he felt he was being looked at, like he wasn’t some heavily tattooed freak with a technology fetish. and he knows its not in his mind, knows that puppy sees all of wrench for who he is, because he’s one of the few to see him maskless.

 which… was an entire other situation, or maybe the same one, the crush-turned-attraction one. the one where he trusted puppy too much, with his name ( reginald ), with his technology ( baby drone wrench junior ), and with his face. a face that, while puppy did stare at, he didn’t treat wrench like he was a freakshow to be laughed at. because sometimes, sometimes wrench got the stupid girlish feeling that puppy was unbothered by the wine-colored mark that stained his face, or the nose that was crooked and just a bit too big.

 sometimes, wrench got the feeling that puppy was as fascinated with his real face as wrench was with, frankly put, all of him. and it was as thrilling as it was terrifying, because good things never lasted with him and time moved quickly in rengkok.

 but it lasted. it lasted for days, weeks, months, and wrench is amazed with his own patience - having completely rebranded his own insecurities and fears as patience - and that he hasn’t fucked this up.

 and then puppy touches his face-face, and all that shit patience ( read: insecurities and fears ) goes out right out the fucking window.

 it’s not really - it’s not an intimate touch by normal people standards. but the brush of curious fingers against a scar just below his red-stained skin is enough to send wrench’s heart-rate through the fucking roof, right up to the higher levels of heaven. the noise that tears from his throat is not something he’s proud of - needy and noisy and loud - but it’s in the goddamn air before he can stop it.

 puppy’s face flashes, no file reading across it, then question marks, but the touching doesn’t stop - which is probably good because wrench would fucking jump the man if it did. human fingers don’t hesitate in their exploration, the fingers of his prosthetic arm coming up to steady wrench as he abso-fucking-lutely does not sway, pressing into a boney hip so gently he almost doesn’t notice it.

 ( he does. he sways and he notices the touch. because he’s fucking useless. )

 but the hand doesn’t stay there for long, in fact both of his hands don’t stay where they were, and wrench is definitely disappointed when puppy seems to come to his senses, head tilting before he moves to move away, a quick flash of signal lost across his helmet.

 ah. i see.

 a laugh bubbles out of the fixer as he follows puppy’s step back with a step forward. did he think he was going flick all wrench’s switches on and then just - just fucking stop?

 fuck that.

 wrench jumps him, leaps up and into the cyborg, the weight and suddenness of his movements enough to catch the other off guard, enough to send them both tumbling onto the shitty old couch sitara had been begging him to get rid of.

 puppy’s mask is flashing - caution with exclamation marks in yellow. big red question marks. - but wrench ignores them in favor of ducking his head and pressing his mouth to the other man’s throat, blunt teeth nipping at exposed skin. the other man jolts, a hand grabs the back of his neck, another wraps around wrench’s wrist, but - most notably - he does not stop him.

 dimly, the fixer is aware of puppy’s breathing, heavy and startled, but mostly he’s aware of cybernetic fingers as they flutter on the nape of his neck, not quite pushing but definitely not pulling away, and the chest beneath his own hands that shudders with every nip, expands with a big inhale with every press of his lips.

 when he lifts his head, wrench is treated to a strange sight. the mask is flickering. a big red heart - static - a question mark - more static - and then careful blankness, a black screen. 

 the hand at the nape of his neck moves, composite fingers gentle touch his cheek. his nose. the scar at the corner of his mouth and then - 

 wrench’s brain seizes as puppy touches his lips. he tastes metal and plastic and the soft almost rubber padding of a synthetic fingerprint.

 oh.

 puppy’s face flashes red in tune with wrench’s thoughts, and the two of them stare at each other for a long beat, longer than the typical second long glances they would give each other before.

 there’s a finger still touching his tongue. a hand gripping his wrist with bruising force, bones grinding together almost painfully. the chest beneath his own hands is heaving. 

 to hell with it. wrench thinks, his last coherent thought before he rips at the buttons of puppy’s stupid utility jumpsuit. just... fuck it.

 -

 ( b o n u s  round )

 hours later, wrench wakes nude, legs intertwined with an equally naked puppy’s. there’s a helmeted head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, and fingers splayed over his slow beating heart. he thinks this is the most at peace he’s felt in his entire life, if not it was certainly the most comfortable. he thinks that’s a problem, it means his crush has definitely turned into a full on like-like ( like-like. was he twelve? ) situation. but that is a problem for another hour, another day, when he doesn’t feel so satisfied and warm and comfortable.

[banesapothecary]

for prompts! david is having a pretty bad/emotional day so Patrick makes a blanket fort in their living room and they eat junk food and watch all of David’s favorite rom coms becus Patrick is an amazing husband

sorry this one took so long! it ended up being a bit longer than I though it would

i will take your pain (and put it on my heart)

read on ao3

Patrick’s come to learn a lot of things about his husband, collecting bits and pieces of information over the years like he’s curating a museum on the intricacies of David Rose inside his own mind and heart.

Some things are incredibly specific to detail, like the exact brand of toner David uses—down to the exact ingredients in it that do “wonders, Patrick,” for his combination skin—and the second-best one he’ll tolerate if there’s no other choice. Some are easy to memorize, like his coffee order that sounds a bit more like the recipe for a very sweet witch’s potion.

Others are sweet and make Patrick’s heart swell with affection, like the fact that Patrick is the only person allowed to run his fingers through David’s hair, no matter how perfectly coiffed—and the fact that David falls asleep the easiest and with a smile on his face when Patrick trails his fingers through it when they're wrapped securely around each other late at night.

And others make Patrick’s heart hurt for the fact that there’s nothing he can do to change them:  the hurt David’s endured in the past, the people who treated him abysmally, the anxiety and depression that still find ways to hit him like a brick wall.

David’s always had bad days for as long as Patrick’s known him, and Patrick suspects longer before that, too. He’s heard the story of Ted diagnosing his panic attack, after all.

David’s bad days aren’t always the same. Some are easier, and he’s a little more anxious than usual. Those are manageable, and David’s gotten a lot better and a lot more comfortable communicating with Patrick on those days than he once was.

Some are bad, though. Every so often, David has a really bad day, one where all his anxiety and painful memories from over his years in New York crash down on him and he can barely move. David had tried to hide those days from him, once upon a time, and as much as it hurts Patrick to see David like this, he can't help but feel grateful that David trusts him enough to share this. He supposes it would be harder to hide now that they're married, but even still, David has grown so much more comfortable sharing his insecurities and vulnerabilities with Patrick. Patrick's proud of him, even if he wishes David never had to feel this way at all. Patrick would gladly take all of this weight off David's shoulders and heart to put it on himself.

Patrick knows as soon as he steps out of the steam-warmed bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower, that today is a bad day. He knows because David is still buried deep beneath the covers in a ball so tight, Patrick doesn’t think it could be at all comfortable.

David’s never been a morning person, and if it were earlier in their relationship, Patrick may have just assumed he’s still sleeping. But they’ve been married five months now, and Patrick knows better. He knows that the smell of the coffee in the kitchen is enough to draw interest from David, at the very least getting him awake and checking his phone if he’s not quite yet ready to get out of bed. And the smell of coffee plus the knowledge that Patrick was in the shower, alone and always happy to receive company, is almost always enough to get him fully out of bed.

“David,” Patrick says softly, moving to sit on his side of the bed. He rests a hand gently on the lump underneath the covers, not sure exactly which part of his husband he’s touching.

David doesn’t stir, but a small hum emerges from the sheets in acknowledgement.

Patrick’s lip twitches into a small smile at the sound. “I’ve got the store today. I’ll call at lunch, okay?”

David shifts under the covers, pulling the comforter and sheets down just enough for part of his face to peek out. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Patrick bends down to press a kiss to David’s forehead. “I love you. Call me or Stevie if you need anything, okay?”

David nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulls the covers over his face again.

Patrick squeezes his arm through the covers and stands, moving to finish getting ready. He grabs a pad of sticky notes from his drawer, scrawling out a quick note:  There’s a few muffins left, and leftover pizza is in the fridge. Please eat something. I love you.

He sticks the note on their bathroom mirror, knowing eventually David will have to pull himself out of bed, and leaves the house as quietly as he can in case David’s already fallen back asleep.

***

David doesn’t call him. He doesn’t text, either, not that Patrick had really expected him to. Patrick can’t help but feel worried, though, and he takes the first opportunity that the store is empty to turn the sign to “Closed” and duck into the back room to call him. The phone rings for an unbearably long amount of time, which really only means 3 or 4 times, but Patrick is too worried to be patient.

“Hey,” David says when he finally answers. He sounds tired, Patrick notes, but that’s not necessarily unusual, considering it's just before noon and David's been known to sleep very late on his days off.

"Hi, baby," Patrick says, the term of endearment slipping off his tongue without much thought. He wants to ask how David's feeling, but he doesn't want to push.

"I saw your note," David says. "I'm heating up the pizza now. Fingers crossed I don't burn the house down."

Patrick laughs, the sound short and startled and maybe a little relieved. Making jokes is always a good sign. "I have every faith in you."

"Then I clearly haven't subjected you to my cooking enough."

"Your cooking isn't that bad," Patrick says, and it's true. David can make all the jokes he wants about being a disaster in the kitchen, but the few meals he's made for the two of them were not only edible, but they were good. David may not be the greatest chef in the world, but like most things he does, he gives everything he has to making it as close to perfect as possible.

David doesn't argue, which only makes the knot in Patrick's stomach tighten.

Patrick bites his lip and makes a decision. “I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he says. He uses his firmest voice, hoping to leave no room for David to argue.

It doesn't work. “Um? What about the store?” David asks, his voice taking on some of its usual flair in his incredulity.

“We can survive closing early, and we’ve been slow today, anyway," Patrick says, shrugging even though David can't see it.

“But—”

“David," Patrick stops him. "You’re more important to me than the store.”

David is silent for a moment, long enough for Patrick to wonder if maybe the call got dropped. “Okay, one," he says finally, "how dare you say things like that to me when I’m already in a fragile state.”

“Sorry.” Patrick isn’t at all sorry.

“And two, I will be fine until you get home. I even got out of bed today, so I’m doing much better than expected." There's a small hint of pride in David's voice, and Patrick can't help but smile. "I don’t need you to come home.”

“David, forget about the store for a second," Patrick says, trying not to let any impatience into his voice. "I know you can handle today, I’ve seen you do it more times than you should have to because you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“I just said not to say things like that!”

Patrick doesn't even pretend to apologize this time. “Do you want me to come home, David?”

The line is quiet again, but Patrick knows his husband well enough to know that call hasn't dropped. He can easily imagine the emotions warring across David's face right now, everything between wanting Patrick there with him and not wanting to burden him. He only wishes he was there in person to reassure David that he could never, never be a burden to him.

"Yes," David says in a quiet voice, the war apparently won. "I do."

“Then it’s settled," Patrick says softly. "I'll text you when I leave the store."

“Okay,” David says.

***

The living room is dark save for the small amount of light forcing its way through the closed blinds when Patrick gets home. He’d closed the store in record time, leaving a handwritten note on the door to let customers know they had closed early for the day.

He tucks his jacket into the front closet and tucks his shoes into the cubby on the closet’s floor. He starts to make his way towards their bedroom, assuming David has found his way back into bed, when he hears a quiet, “Hey,” from the couch.

David is curled up with the large fleece blanket Patrick’s mom had given them as a housewarming present, only his face peeking out.

“Hi,” Patrick smiles. He thinks about pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture, wanting to capture how adorable his husband looks right now, but mostly he just wants to join him on the couch and kiss him hello. So he does.

It’s a short and sweet kiss, nothing more than a hello. “Hi,” he whispers again when he pulls back.

“You said that already,” David says. He pulls himself up into a more upright position, leaning into Patrick’s shoulder when he sits next to him. “I’m glad your home.”

Patrick almost doesn’t hear him for the softness of his voice and the way David’s pressed his face against his shoulder. “I am, too,” Patrick says, moving to wrap his arm around David’s waist and pull him closer.

They sit like that for a while, secure in the silence and each other’s warmth. Patrick’s eyes catch on the chest on the other side of the room and gets an idea.

“Hey, have you showered today?” he asks.

David pulls away and fixes Patrick with a suspicious squint. “Are you implying I smell?”

“Oh, it’s abysmal,” Patrick deadpans.

“Mm, okay, you’re very rude,” David says.

Patrick laughs. “You’ll feel better if you do,” he says. “Always works for me, at least a little bit.”

David says nothing, looking wholly unconvinced.

“I’ll get whatever you want for dinner while you do,” Patrick offers.

“Ugh, fine,” David says, standing and taking the blanket with him. “Honestly, I just want pasta.”

Patrick smiles and stands, stepping into David’s space and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make spaghetti, then.” He pulls the blanket off David’s shoulders, laughing when he pouts. “You can’t take a shower with a blanket, David.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” David says.

“Go shower, David,” Patrick says, kissing his cheek again and dropping the blanket ceremoniously on the couch.

***

The living room is set up perfectly, if Patrick does say so himself. He hopes David will like it.

Growing up, Patrick was always the one his friends or cousins went to when they wanted to build a pillow fort. His determination and level head always crafted the most stable forts, not to mention the comfiest. Now, every single throw pillow and blanket they own has been used to carefully construct the best pillow fort Patrick has ever made. His best work yet, he thinks.

He really, really hopes David likes it.

Upstairs, Patrick hears David padding around their bathroom. The shower had stopped a few moments before, and Patrick smiles as he imagines David completing his daily post-shower skin care regiment. On days like this, David usually shortens it, focusing only on the essentials. That seems to be the case today, too, because just as Patrick is plating their spaghetti, he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Quickly, Patrick sets the two plates on the picnic blanket spread in the middle of their pillow fort. There’s a bottle of David’s favorite wine, too, and he’d pulled out their ever expansive rom-com collection for his husband to choose from. He hurries to the hallway, blocking David’s sight into the living room before he could round the corner.

“You were right,” David says unceremoniously. “The shower did make me feel better.” He stops just in front of Patrick, and Patrick knows he means it. His eyes are brighter, like there isn’t so much weighing him down inside as before.

“Good,” Patrick says, taking his hand. “I’m glad.”

David squints at him. “You’re up to something.”

Patrick molds his expression into one of sheer innocence. Or maybe it’s a bit too shit-eating, from the way David’s eyebrows furrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, okay,” David nods. “So you just decided to block my path into the rest of our house for no reason, then?”

“Okay,” Patrick acquiesces. “I might have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” He waits with eyebrows raised, but Patrick only grins. David sighs. “I don’t do well with surprises.”

“I know,” Patrick says. “But I think you’ll like this one. If you don’t, it won’t be a big deal to undo, I promise.”

“Undo?” David asks. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Patrick only chuckles. “Trust me.”

“I do,” David says. He looks at Patrick for a moment, the love clear in his still tired eyes. “Lead the way.”

Patrick brings their intertwined hands to his lips and presses a kiss against his knuckles. He steps back, leading David into the living room and watching his expression as he takes in Patrick’s handiwork.

David’s hand tightens around Patrick’s. “You...you did all this?”

Patrick kisses his hand again in answer. “Come on, dinner’s getting cold.” He leads him over to the picnic he’d set up. “We can watch whatever movie you want, too,” he adds as David finds a seat among the cushions and pillows.

He’s smiling, Patrick notes with pride, and it’s the first real smile he’s seen on David all day. “I love you,” David says. “You’re ridiculous and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Patrick sits next to him, nudging the box of DVDs in David’s direction. “Go on, pick our entertainment for the evening.”

“Oh,” David teases, “so formal.” He peruses the collection for a moment before pulling one out victoriously.

“‘13 Going on 30’?” Patrick asks, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“I’ll have you know it’s a classic, Patrick. A classic!” David exclaims. “How dare you insult my chosen comfort movie.”

“You’re right,” Patrick smiles. “I apologize for my grave error.”

“You’d better,” David grumbles as Patrick takes the DVD to put it in their player. He picks up his plate, swirling some spaghetti around his fork as Patrick settles back against the pillows. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for today. For being here.”

Patrick shuffles closer so their knees and shoulders bump. “Thank you for letting me be here,” he says, “because there’s no where else I’d rather be.”

“I told you to stop saying things like that when I’m fragile,” David groans, and Patrick pretends not to see the well of tears in his eyes. Instead, he turns and presses a mumbled Sorry and a kiss to his husband’s shoulder before turning his attention to the beginning movie.

[katyatalks]

Otomedia April 2019 - Itou Setsuo [Mob] & Irino Miyu’s [Ritsu] Interview Translation

Here’s Itou Setsuo [Mob] & Irino Miyu’s [Ritsu] interview from April 2019’s Otomedia! They’re given in one section so I’ve put them both into one post, making this a long one. Contains some lovely meta on character relationships (Mob & Reigen and Ritsu & Shou respectively), some Shimazaki meta, and some nice insight as to how fans helped develop the tone of season 2.

ITOU SETSUO [Mob]

Q: Season 2 has been full throttle since the very first episode, hasn’t it.

A: Episode 1 felt natural in the way that it picked up from where season 1 left off, and in terms of content it very much felt like “Mob Psycho 100”. But, we see glimmers of Mob’s growth because we knew who he was in season 1. Since there weren’t exactly any scenes in season 1 in which he uses his powers in public or uses his powers of his own accord, episode 1 leaves an impression. As an introduction episode I’d say it scores 120 out of 100.

Q: Where do you think season 2 has powered up the most, compared to season 1?

A: One place in which it’s had a power up is the way the story has progressed, leaning into something more serious. The matter of Mob’s growth has begun, leaving the audience in a state of anticipation. Actually, Mob’s growth is, in itself, the number one power up point. He questions things, thinks for himself, and then arrives at a conclusion - different to how he was back in season 1, when he simply did as shishou said. It’s a level of growth that reaches high enough to touch the sky, I’d say. What we see in episodes 6 and 7, ie. “Mob’s daily life without shishou”, is something that I think wouldn’t have been possible without Mob’s growth. For Mob, having fun with someone after school, enjoying a normal school life… him doing those kinds of things is a pretty dramatic change in itself. 

Unexpectedly, from the get go we see Mob move as a separate unit to Reigen in season 2. In episodes 4 and 5, the two are separated by the fake world and the real world, and then after that they do their own things, until they finally recombine in episode 9. Of course, up until now we’ve seen a lot of conversations between Mob and shishou, but compared to season 1 I feel those conversations have fallen considerably. I feel like as a result of Mob and shishou’s relationship temporarily breaking, it has bounced back into something that feels more complete. I think they’ve truly come to be able to trust one another - their relationship has evolved into that.

Q: Until now, are there any scenes or lines in particular that have left an impression on you? 

A: There’s plenty. I remember the end of episode 1 well, in which Mob confesses to Emi-chan - “I’m an esper” - it really felt like a final episode kind of scenario! Then - this line was in the PV, too - “This power, that I thought would never be of use to anyone… I’ll use it to save someone’s life!” from episode 5. That’s a line that I put effort into, so it really left an impression on me - I’d like it to leave an impression on everyone else, too. And, from the end of Whitey Arc (episode 7), “a good person”. Those three things left an impression on me.

Q: We’ve had new characters appear one after the other - which of those characters has piqued your interest?

A: I like Shimazaki. How to put it; he’s someone who’s attached to Claw, but emotionally I don’t think he’s really attached to anything... so he pretty much just does what he wants. I think it’s probable, as an esper, to feel that you can’t fit in with others. Also, quite simply, I think he’s cool! The power to teleport and read your opponent’s movements… needless to say, that’s cool. We get to see the power balance between all the espers when it comes to Shimazaki, in wondering how to defeat him. I think Shimazaki and co. could be described as rulers with which to measure powers by.

Q: Turning toward the climax of season 2, please tell us the highlights.

A: The fight with ‘Boss’, a formidable enemy. I think the fight scene between him and Mob is a highlight the whole way through. The visuals, the performance, the battle… Also, the growth of the characters around Mob, and the way the relationships between them change. Mob isn’t the only one fighting - there’s various fights and problems happening around him, too. In that sense, no matter how many times you watch the climax, I think you’ll make a new discovery.

Q: Finally, a message, please.

A: From here on out it’s a straight path toward the climax, so please stay glued to the show and enjoy. Mob’s growth, that we’ve seen throughout season 2… if you could please see it through right the way to the end, I’d be very happy.

--

IRINO MIYU [Ritsu]

Q: Where do you think season 2 has powered up the most, compared to season 1?

A: From the start I’ve always thought of Mob Psycho 100 as a work that has its strength in the fact that the colours, movements, and direction all work together to make it seem as if it’s a different work to the manga it’s based on. I think season 2 powered up when it comes to style. I think the response to season 1 was amazing for the production team - Director Tachikawa specifically springs to mind. The reaction from the fans was amazing - we ourselves looked at it all and went, “wow”. With self-confidence within us, we plunged forward, thinking, “right, let’s do what we want,” and as a result I feel the season 2 we’ve ended up with has turned out as something more fun and stylish than season 1.

Q: In what ways do you think Ritsu has grown or changed in season 2?

A: In season 1, I think the Ritsu we see can be defined with the word “insecure”. He appears to be the kind of guy who can do anything, but at his core there lies a swirling mass of complexes. I found that fascinating about him, and story-wise it really helped accelerate the fun. Those complexes are allowed to rest, and consequently he appears at ease in season 2. How to put it; he’s come to be able to distinguish between “what I should do” and “what I want to do”, and is able to recognise what is important to him in his life. So, I think the growth he shows us in season 2 is in the way that his thoughts regarding powers have changed, and the peace of mind that has come to him as a result. With regard to Mob, I feel, as well, that he’s put into practise trying to not come to his rescue so much, and respecting his will.

Q: Until now, are there any scenes in particular that have left an impression on you?

A: The parallel world that we see in Mogami Arc (episode 5). First off, the design is amazing, really leaving an impression. When I saw that episode, I truly felt from the bottom of my heart just how amazing Mob Psycho 100 is. The uncomfortable tone leaves you speechless… as a whole, it has a refreshing feel to it. It makes you appreciate the fact that, usually, Mob Psycho 100 is quite different. The show has the power to make you feel it all - there’s a texture there that you can touch, a smell that you can appreciate. I didn’t perform in that episode, so I didn’t know how the episode would be until broadcast. So, when I saw it, I was incredibly surprised - “what IS this!?”.

Q: What are your thoughts on Shou, who Ritsu meets once again in episode 8?

A: Well, he’s done a good job not being brainwashed. He walks down the path that he thinks is right, which I think is amazing. But - well - the way he chooses to walk that path can be a little overbearing, I think (laughs).

He’s also got complexes when it comes to family, and he’s still in the middle of fighting them. His objective - clearing his pent up emotions - he thinks there’s only one method, and that’s to defeat his father. In contrast, Ritsu no longer antagonises his older brother, having already resolved that. So, Ritsu looks at the way Shou pushes on, and is able to say, “I understand you”. Shou and his father… I think, given Ritsu and Shou’s circumstances being the way they are, that topic will come up as something the two of them will talk about in the future.

Ritsu’s clever, so he’s able to get along with someone while only half-trusting them. He’s able to calmly talk with Shou, and also recognise somewhere in his heart that Shou isn’t a bad person.

...Well, also, given the situation (laughs), he can’t do anything but work together with Shou!

Q: Finally, a message, please!

A: I’m glad the response has been so great - I was able to feel it even while recording. From this point on there’ll be a bunch of new characters appearing, and it’s a point where everything is going to heat up and be more fun, so please pay attention!

--

Twitter crosspost here.

Otomedia April 2019;

ONE’s special interview here.

Sakurai Takahiro [Reigen VA] & Itou Setsuo [Mob VA] joint interview here.

Kokuryuu Sachi [Shou VA] interview here.

Itou Setsuo [Mob VA] & Irino Miyu [Ritsu VA] interview here.

Character Designer Kameda, Eye-catch Team Kenja, Series Co-ordinator Seko & Director Tachikawa's interview here.

[ladyfawkes]

New Dream/Angelic Dream - New Dream Appreciation Week - Day 4 | Hurt/Comfort

While I don’t have a specific Eugene/Rapunzel New Dream story, this one is still very New Dream-centric in its own way. Some may have seen it before but most have not. It’s very personal and dear to me and I kind of considered it appropriate, considering we’re coming upon a certain anniversary in just three days.....

“When Eugene called Rapunzel Sunshine, I felt that…”

Confession: I feel this each and every time Eugene says this. Especially since Sunshine is an actual nickname of mine. My heart skips a beat because….it’s what my fiancé used to call me. And I say “used to” because he passed away before we could get married. It’s high time I explained to everybody the reason why I glommed onto Tangled the Series for dear life…since I’ve been putting it off for the past 4 months. Got less than a week left til the series finale….. and this series came along right when I needed it.

When I began getting deeper into Tangled fandom, it wasn’t until around later October 2019. I was feeling a real hankering for more of Eugene Fitzherbert’s singing voice. Confession 2: Until Autumn 2019, I had NO IDEA that Zachary Levi had voiced Flynn Rider, both speaking AND singing!! At the time, the main thing that drew me to Flynn was his singing voice. I never forgot that. Like so many others, I fell in love with Tangled’s soundtrack and specially with “I See the Light” and “I’ve Got a Dream”, etc.

Confession 3: I’ve had a crush on Zachary Levi ever since the first episode of Chuck. Even though Chuck’s social and emotional insecurities are a rather enormously huge humorous part of the plot, the way Zac portrayed that anxiety and other types of raw emotions were real. He possesses a markedly rare ability to elicit laughter and tears within the same scene, and sometimes within the very same moment of a scene. While it’s an exceptional gift to exhibit that ability, it nearly always means that underneath it all, the reason why you can perceive this type of emotion so plainly from any given actor is because they’ve experienced those feelings on a personal level in their private lives. Nobody ever told me this, it’s something I learned through observation. It’s true of writers too…and composers. The best way to telegraph emotion through a given medium to someone else is often by having initially having experienced those emotions for yourself. It wouldn’t be until years after Chuck began that Zac would feel comfortable enough to share his mental health history with his fans…and we’d begin to learn just how deep he truly is.

With all of this in mind, I was perusing YouTube with the intent of finding more of “Flynn Rider’s singing voice” and imagine my shock & delight when a whole bunch of Tangled the Series and Tangled Before Ever After songs showed up in my search!!! Then I Looked up the fan wikia only to discover that it was none other than our dear Zachary Levi who had voiced Eugene Fitzherbert!!! I got positively thrilled and was already on Cloud Nine before I’d even begun watching it. Despite Disney’s, uh, thorny history with spinoffs, I couldn’t help but be excited as I learned most of the original cast had returned as well!!

I queued up Tangled Before Ever After and was instantly transported, instantly fell in love. I truly did not expect to be as drawn to Eugene as I was….in the film version, I wasn’t so sure about him….but I gravitated toward him immediately in the series. At first, I really didn’t know why. The feeling seemed familiar somehow and again….I didn’t know why. I couldn’t figure it out.

As I watched the first few episodes, I was constantly live-gushing (that’s akin to live-tweeting, only over Messenger instead) about the show with my friend Samara as I watched; Sammeh is also a Tangled superfan. I was continually talking about how it was the Disney’s best spinoff I had ever seen, how I was shocked that they cast SO MANY original cast members, original songwriters, etc. I can unequivocally state I haven’t loved an animated series this much in my life, even as a child. Then I was describing how much I could not get over the healthy, loving relationship portrayed between Eugene and Rapunzel. As I sat describing it, I suddenly said, “Oh my gosh. Sammeh…..”  And it caused me to freeze. Even though Sam had known my former fiancé just as long as we’d known each other, I didn’t know if Sam would think I was nuts for suggesting that certain aspects of Eugene’s personality reminded me of Anthony. After a long pause, I typed as much to her, “I don’t know if I should say this to you…..” yet I needn’t have worried, because Sam completed my thought for me: “You’re gonna say he’s like Anthony.” I was so surprised I said, “YES!!! How did you know I was gonna say that?!”

”Easy. Because I’ve seen it too.”

In spite of myself, I wept after she said that. So I wasn’t just imaging it. I’m getting teary-eyed now just thinking about it.

The love between Eugene and Rapunzel reminds me of the love I had with my Anthony. Anthony was not intimidated by my inner strength, we took turns rescuing each other, he was willing to listen to me talk for hours and hours and hours and I did the same with him, we took turns forever teasing one another, we couldn’t ever stay angry with each other, we always talked things out. He was forever encouraging my talents and dreams. We hung out with an unlikely, rag-tag group of friends. And especially the way Eugene caresses Rapunzel’s face, kisses her forehead….and spontaneously says _the most heart-melting romantic things….._that was just like my Anthony. And of course, he called me “The light in my life….My Sunshine.”

Now….while Anthony didn’t die while rescuing me from an enemy, his was a sacrifice of a different kind….for shortly before he passed, he was experiencing far too much mental strife….never once did he self-disclose this, though….and unfortunately, we didn’t learn until after the fact. It became apparent he felt his only way out was to take his own life.

Needless to say, I crawled into a very dark place after he died. I tried very hard not to….but over the prior 18 months I’d already lost so very much. I’d lost a job, loss of place to live, for months, I was being literally starved by my abusive-prior-ex-boyfriend ….I just shriveled up inside due to self-doubt, self-hatred, and I couldn’t speak about anything.

Even from 1800 miles away at the time, Anthony managed to be the one person to draw it all out of me. (I was estranged from most family at the time – with good reason) and I told him everything….and he listened to all of it, never interrupting, never judging, never being anything but his amazing self. Somehow, after two years of friendship and listening to one another, Anthony had fallen in love with me….even though all of the garbage I told him. To this day, I do not know what he saw in me. But something inside knew that if I could just strive to put good things surrounding that fateful date, its anniversary would lose its sting and I could heal and live the way Anthony would’ve wanted me to live. Although I’d described some of the lowlights, I’ve definitely had moments in my life that have filled me with much love and light.

I’ve been so very scared to type all of this out, put it all out there, for fear of being…..judged. Ridiculed. You know how the internet can be……naturally there’s a lot more to this story that I would like to share with you yet this has already become prohibitively lengthy.

The whole point is to say that it’s been nearly 14 long years since I last heard Anthony’s light sweet southern drawl. And through the magical medium of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, this show effectively allowed me the heartwarming and bittersweet chance to feel a small part of his love within my life again. I don’t know quite how it happened….but happen it did….right when I needed it. Anthony and I were very flirty and silly and ridiculous as a couple, just the way you would expect two twitter-pated people to be….the way Eugene calls Rapunzel “Sunshine” and caresses her cheek….the way he looks at her ….with his heart is full of so much love that it touches his warm brown eyes….those things remind me most of Anthony. Hopefully you can see why it’s been so difficult to, ah, self-disclose this information about myself.

So…..thank you for that from the bottom of my heart, Disney, Chris Sonnenburg, Shane Prigmore, Tara Nicole Whitaker, Tom Caulfield, Stephen Sandoval, Zachary Levi, Mandy Moore, Eden Espinoza, James Iglehart, Jeremy Jordan, Kevin Kleisch, Alan Menken, Glenn Slater, Anna Lencioni, and anybody else whom I’ve missed…..

[liam-93-productions]

Summer 2017. It will, justly, go down in musical history as the season of Cardi B’s ascendance; the career-making single “Bodak Yellow” was released in June, and, by year’s end, it had propelled the performer into the firmament of hyper-celebrity. 2017 also marked the year of “Despacito,” released in January by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee (only to then be remixed in April with Justin Bieber). “Despacito” was tied as the longest-running No. 1 placeholder on the Billboard Hot 100, until Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road” broke that record in mid-2019.

Within that same time frame, another mega-hit would emerge. It was the solo debut from Liam Payne, whose years as one-fifth (then one-fourth) of One Direction have made him a permanent global force. “Strip That Down” dropped in May, featured Migos member Quavo, and was penned by the singer-songwriter Ed Sheeran. Payne describes the track as “rap singing” with a “pop melody on top.” With a bouncing intro beat overlaid with percussive snaps (and a dusting of piano-key complements), the song was palatable from the first hook and dance-floor ready throughout. In essence: a satisfyingly uncomplicated, all-but-guaranteed banger that would go on to become a quadruple-platinum success (with over 300 million music video views on YouTube and nearly 700 million streams on Spotify, totaling north of 1 billion plays).

Before “Bodak Yellow” pulled its money moves by gaining major traction toward August and onward, “Strip That Down” was what you heard blasting when cars drove by; sun and sound and windows-down fusing together to create that fleeting, specific euphoria that helps determine the song of the summer. “Despacito” contended, no doubt, but it had been around a bit longer, and there was something extra — a listenable breeziness — about “Strip That Down” that made it linger. Payne says he couldn’t release any new material “for nine months, because they just wouldn’t take it off the radio.” According to YouTube commenters, the song has had a minor resurgence in 2019, and Payne admits he is still shocked by how it continues to stream in the millions, monthly. “I’m like, what? It’s so old now.” The song also made a major, unmissable declaration in its chorus: Payne repeatedly voices, “You know I used to be in 1D / Now I’m out, free.”

Fast-forward two years from the song’s release, and Payne is sitting in his London management office, jet-lagged but energized after a quick but busy trip to New York City to promote his newest single, “Stack It Up,”featuring the artist A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie. The song, which also credits Sheeran as a writer, marks Payne’s first major promotional push since “Strip That Down,” having released an EP in 2018 but, as of yet, no complete album. Though fans will not have to wait much longer: it was announced in mid-October that Payne’s first album, titled LP1, will arrive on December 6, 2019.

Eating a salad from Pret a Manger, he is boyishly handsome, even when battling time-zone disorientation. At 26 years old, the Wolverhampton, England-born Payne (...) and no stranger to fame. One Direction, that union of Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, and Harry Styles, formed in 2010 after appearing on the British version of the singing competition show The X Factor. “1D” would earn millions of fans worldwide and hundreds of millions of dollars; the band went on indefinite hiatus in 2016. “I’ve been doing this for 10 years,” Payne says with a smile, when everyone in the room admits to feeling the grind of an exhausting schedule.

“We’ve gone full circle,” Payne says, relaxing into his chair. “‘Stack It Up’ is the same team that made ‘Strip That Down,’ which is why it sounds like the song’s little brother.” The track is similarly playful but is more about cash-lust than anything physical. It’s also slightly less shimmery, with an attenuated keyboard pulse and a semi-scratchiness to Payne’s vocal work. “One of the main problems I had with the song, actually, is that it’s very money-oriented, and I didn’t know if that was the message I wanted to convey,” Payne continues. “I’ve been really lucky to have great success, but there have been times in my life when I am sitting there, looking out at the most beautiful view, and all of these amazing things are happening around me, but there’s no one there and you’ve got no one to share it with. You sort of think, ‘Well, that didn’t fix anything, did it?’ You feel just as low as if you had none of it.” This is the first bite of Payne’s ice-clear transparency. He is think-aloud and cut-to-the-chase candid, which, it could be argued, is a rare trait for the very famous.

“So, with that in mind, we kind of switched up the lyrics so that you have dreams for you and someone else, and sending this message of working hard for what you want to gain,” Payne says. “I was a kid from humble beginnings. My parents didn’t have a lot. They gave us what they could. The reason I love this song is that, if you’re on your way to work and you’re listening, I like to think that it gives you the urge to go above and beyond for your shit.”

Love — sometimes messy, sometimes fanatical, sometimes deeply personal — is part of Payne’s narrative. (...) Likewise, his friendships (both then and now) with the other members of One Direction. Regarding modern love — and the trials and tribulations he’s gone through to understand it, and to achieve self-love, at this point — Payne has much to say. The path to 26 has not been easy: The singer has been open about facing mental health, relationship, and self-esteem issues. There is fact and fan fiction when it comes to One Direction’s split, but Payne himself has said there was strife. He even has a tattoo that reads, “We are the quiet ones,” as he felt he was never allowed to speak up on account of the group’s squeaky clean public-facing image.

“I think everyone has a love-hate thing with what they each individually do. It’s not always nice,” he’ll say of his career. “You get a bit of that feeling of turning against your profession.” Has he ever fallen out of love with music? “It can get tedious, and there is a lot of pressure a lot of the time, which is difficult. Your urge sometimes will not be enough. I’ve found that having people around you that give you unwavering support is, more than anything, what keeps me going. (...) Whereas in the past, there have been times when I didn’t know if I wanted to make any more music. You need those people around you to make sure that you carry on.”

(...)

Payne also admits to mentally working through the backlash and the hysteria that can follow his every move. From the One Direction days, his fandom can tread into extreme territories. “Some people can be really nasty for no reason,” he says. “And also, when you’re worried about going to a restaurant or the park and being overprotective, that actually causes more problems. Because then the paparazzi and the press get more on your shit when you’re hiding away, and then when you do finally show yourself or reveal something, it’s a fucking frenzy. (...)”

Payne would not count himself as one of those people. He has been affected by acute anxiety, agoraphobia, and insecurity. He has canceled shows and, at one point, found himself drinking too heavily as a coping mechanism. “We all have an ideal in our heads of what we want to be,” Payne says of self-love. “From the moment you step in and say, ‘I am who I think I am,’ then nothing can touch you. For a long time, I was playing this character, and in reality, I was a million miles away from it, and everyone could fucking see that shit. You get a different level of confidence once you are, like, ‘I’m good.’ Self-assuredness is a powerful thing.” Payne says committing to a fitness regimen and routine has helped, too. “You become happier and more confident, more quickly.”

(...)

Payne concludes by saying he has only “very recently” felt truly comfortable in his own skin. “I’ve just had a long conversation with a friend about this,” he says. “Don’t let your past define you. It’s not all about what you did or didn’t do. I’m on the map of where I am supposed to be, and knowing that is the key.” Liam Payne, consciously stripped down and continuing to stack it up, takes the last bite of his Pret salad.