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the one/steven relationship is just. so special to me??

they argue constantly. they would die for each other. they're openly hostile. if anyone else insults the other they will lose it on them, and god forbid someone hurts the other. steven thinks he's a pompous dick. steven understands how it feels to be the doctor better than almost anyone. the doctor knows he understands and doesn't like it. the doctor knows he understands and it means the world. the doctor is proud of him. he will only tell him this when it's too late. they know each other, deeply, better than they've ever known anyone else. they never talk. they're best friends. they're father and son. they hate each other. they have small arguments. they have full on blowout fights. they love each other so so much. throughout all of the loss, all of the pain and mess, they've been able to count on still having each other. neither of them asked for the other to be in their life. they're so used to having each other that they've forgotten they didn't always. steven wishes he was dead. the doctor won't let that happen, ever. if your researches have so little regard for human life then i want no part of it! poor doctor, he loses all of us. steven how could you be so stupid! you've grown up. that young pilot... was he alright in the end?

#they're so MESSY #I understand why people boil it down to them being little bitches to each other. I do. I make jokes about it too fhdksl #but there's so much going on there #even before you get into the eu there's so much more there than just that #like. they lived through some absolutely HORRIFIC shit together #they lost so much but still had each other through it all but neither one of them knows how to SAY THAT or to say how much it means #LIKE this is also a huge part of what I mean when I say steven was the original tegan/donna #it's not just that he argues with the doctor. it's everything underneath those constant arguments.#steven was the first doctor's best friend in the same way tegan was five's and donna was ten's. you will never convince me otherwise.#iii. steven & the doctor.#i. character study.#i. headcanons.

TWOJAMIE RECORDER MOMENT

#iii. doctorjamie.#i. character study.#isobel: one time my friend zoe's dads were in a heated argument--

the first time winn notices another boy, he’s thirteen, and it’s another kid in the av club at his middle school. he doesn’t really think much of it, doesn’t recognize it as a crush really, because he doesn’t think of boys as an option. he knows that some people are gay, but he isn’t, he can’t be, so he can’t get a crush on another boy, it’s that simple. so clearly this is just normal admiration for another boy, and doesn’t actually mean anything.

so, he mostly ignores it, and mostly ignores noticing boys after that point, too. it’s not really a conscious decision—it’s not like he sat down and forced himself to keep those feelings buried, there was no intentional denial of them. it was more subconscious, a matter of external issues being internalized instead of dealing with them, something he’s been known to do too many times in his life.

at the end of the day, a lot of it came down to one thing: he wanted to be normal. it’s not necessarily something that makes sense, but after everything he went through as a kid, he just wanted to be able to say he was normal. that he wasn’t different. and so he ignores his mental illness, he purposely tones down his intelligence, and he ignores his feelings about guys. not denies, necessarily, or buries, just… ignores them. he also never thought of being gay as something that was “abnormal”, and certainly never thought it was a bad thing. he just knows that it isn’t what society views as the “average” and that idea stuck with him on a subconscious level, specifically in regards to himself.

he never pursued girls himself, with kara being the only real exception to that his entire life. for the most part, he would just let them come on to him if they wanted to, and he would go along with it. both siobhan and lyra made the first move—all but threw themselves at him, really—and he went along with it. so, because he wasn’t actively freaked out by it or anything, and he also didn’t hate it, that was enough confirmation for him that he was straight, and he was fine with not questioning that, and not questioning why relationships never felt right.

kara was kind of an exception in his life, but she wasn’t just an exception when it came to him having feelings first—she was a first for him in a lot of ways. kara was the first best friend that winn had. jeremy has said in interviews before that he thinks this is a big part of what caused winn’s crush on kara (he specifically calls it a crush of proximity, which i think is a decent way of putting it). he wasn’t used to being close with someone like this, and it can be very easy, especially as someone in the closet (speaking from experience here lmao), to mix those two kinds of feelings for someone and project romantic feelings onto that person. that’s really what happened with kara—he loved her, more than anyone else in the world, and everything in society has told us that, if you love someone that much, especially if you’re a man and a woman, it must be romantic, so he projected those feelings of romance onto her. he still loves kara more than almost anyone, he just knows now that it isn’t in a romantic way—she just really is one of, if not the, most important people in the world to him.

winn also says when he’s dying that he never felt like he really deserved anything, as a result of the abandonment issues that came from his mom and the abuse that he faced while he was in foster care, and that plays into him ignoring things, too. not letting himself be truly happy had become a habit, and he didn’t even fully realize he was doing it until then. he was always holding himself back, because his happiness, the good things in his life, weren’t things that he felt he deserved. even outside of his sexuality, this played a huge role in the relationships that he ended up in during his life, and the way that he was willing to settle for people even when they weren’t good for him, because he felt they were all he deserved.

things really start to shift for him when alex comes out. seeing that change in her is everything to him. seeing her fall in love and come out of her shell makes him realize how trapped he feels himself. his relationship with lyra obviously starts after alex comes out though, and like almost all his other attempts to ignore things, it wasn’t like he got together with her as a way for him to deny being gay. he assumed that part of why he felt so out of place was that he’d never really been in love, and seeing his friends was making him realize that—and he did think that he could love lyra, on some level. when she betrayed him, he did seriously consider just dropping everything and giving up, but he needed the relationship, needed the emotional aspect of it to help him continue to feel normal, even if part of him still wasn’t happy. throwing all of himself into a relationship was his way of trying to be happy, hiding behind romance and sex as a way of ignoring how things felt.

it’s a couple months later, during the summer between s2 and s3, when he and lyra break up for good. he’d been feeling more and more lost, more and more trapped, as time was going on, and being in a relationship was no longer helping—in fact, it was making things worse, especially as he continued spending time around alex and maggie. seeing an actual healthy couple, who were genuinely in love, just made it even more obvious to him that he wasn’t feeling that, and that he never would with lyra, for a lot of reasons—and, if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely is, he knew that he never really would with any woman, even one who wasn’t abusive like lyra. even kara, who he at one point thought was the love of his life, never made him feel the way that he could see alex and maggie did.

alex is the first person he talks to after the break up. he frames it all as being hypothetical—just mentioning how much happier she’s seemed in the past year, how much it really changed her, and asking her questions about herself and her feelings and how she started to figure them out. she knew it wasn’t totally hypothetical, and he knew that she knew, but she was good about it, didn’t say anything to him or try to push him into talking about himself instead of just in hypotheticals before he was ready to. as much as she appreciated maggie for helping her to figure things out, she was, on some level, pushed into things without much say in the matter, and she didn’t want to do that to him while trying to help him work through it.

with the help of alex’s not-so-hypothetical advice, he starts working through the thoughts and feelings he’s dealing with. he comes out a little bit before s3, first to kara, then the rest of the superfriends at once. once he is out, he doesn’t hide it on any level anymore—he’ll tell anyone if he thinks it’s relevant for them to know.

#i. headcanons.#i. character study.#long post #internalized homophobia tw #ask to tag #vv important to my winn

i am here, but you’re not.

there is no funeral, no bone-picking ceremony. the most that is recovered of her body is a couple of teeth, her belt buckle, & a charred scrap of white cloth from her cape. you don’t go home that night. can’t. have to spend the rest of it in an uncomfortable plastic chair at the closest police station, staring blankly at the walls while gran torino reports — the accident. there’s paperwork. a lot of it. you hate it. someone hands you a witness statement form on a cheap clipboard. you stare, not quite all there until torino physically puts the pen into your hand & makes you sign it.

it’s 3:47 am, & nana shimura is gone.

hours pass until the cops can confirm their statement, that the offshore marina where she had confronted All For One is gone, blasted off the map by a titanic fight, & that the mother hero who had confronted the villain is nowhere to be found. neither is the villain, but you know the truth — that bastard is alive. nana had been weakening since she passed one for all on to you — she had gone to fight her nemesis knowing it would be her last stand, & she had done it with a smile on her face.

that last smile haunts the darkness behind your eyes. you see her again every time you blink.

torino leads you out of the precinct as the grey dawn lights up the sky, buying you a light breakfast from an early street food stall. you barely eat, & what you do manage to numbly choke down you throw up half an hour later. he cleans you up, silent & uncharacteristically patient, & then you go home. your torn & grimy hero suit feels like a joke the entire way. somehow you find the presence of mind to strip it off before you climb into bed. it smells like sweat & sour vomit & blood — her blood is staining your sleeve, where she’d grabbed your wrist — grabbed it to save you — if you hadn’t been there, or if you’d just been a better hero — weren’t you going to be number one ?

you stop & retch again. the wastepaper basket under your desk is not an ideal receptacle, but you have neither the energy nor the presence of mind to run for the bathroom, so you crouch miserably over it, holding back your hair with one hand & pressing the other to your stomach. it feels like you’ve been stepped on by some leviathan beast, but the discomfort is far away at the same time. you vaguely remember torino saying something to the desk clerk at the precinct: the kid’s in shock.

nana is dead.

you drag the back of your hand across your mouth, swallowing the sour taste of stomach acid; there’s a headache throbbing at the back of your skull — unsurprising, after the last two days. you haven’t slept since they’d realized they’d caught up to All For One. this pain too is far away, like a thunderstorm on the horizon. you close the curtains, blocking out the sun as it dawns over the horizon, & clamber up into bed. the pillow smells faintly of lavender; a deep breath, inhale, exhale, & then you close your eyes.

nana’s face fills your thoughts, bloodstained, her last smile glinting in the dark. you open your eyes again. she’s dead.

a strangled noise that you don’t recognize bubbles low from somewhere, your own throat, feels choked; heartbeat thumps in your ears & the headache sharpens to a point between your eyes. something reaches into his chest & squeezes; suddenly, the pillow beneath your cheek is wet.

she’s dead.

nothing feels real. it’s two-dimensional somehow, like speaking in a dream. you hiccup, the sobs catching in your diaphragm, & that feels distant too. the dark room blurs into into a watery mess, & then into a bloody mess, when you’ve traded the comfort of your pillow for punching into the cold, cracked tile floor. you’re angry & sad & if you had just been better — you try drawing in a deep, gasping breath, try counting to seven.

seven. she was number seven. seven —

fresh tears well up. you wipe them away, suddenly frustrated beyond words at the way it feels like you’ve fallen apart. the noise of a door opening elsewhere startles you into fight-or-flight — you automatically draw upon One For All, muscles tensing up, but then gran torino’s face appears around the door, & you immediately feel guilty for startling so bad. she had trained you better than this, had warned you about this but now just the thought of her makes you choke on air, & the tears just keep coming.

❛ dead, ❜ you croak. your vision begins to blur again, & you vigorously wipe the tears away, blood smearing on your cheeks. if you’d felt numb & faraway this morning, now it’s more like being caught in a typhoon. your lip wobbles, &you bite until you draw blood: ❛ she’s dead. ❜ saying it aloud — you break. you’re clinging to him like a lost child, suddenly, because you are a lost child; fists curl tight into the material of his costume, blood staining the yellow, blood leaking from the raw skin of your first four knuckles. you squeeze your eyes shut, counting the beats of your heart; it’s not shame that holds you back from crying, but something you’re not quite sure how to articulate at the best of times. fear, maybe — a sense of vulnerability that’s hard to shake.

crying expresses weakness, & that’s a bone-deep dread you’ve held for as long as you can remember. perhaps that was why nana’s words had struck such a chord with you, four years ago; in this world, the ones who smile are the strongest, but right now, you’re not feeling so strong, not feeling all that mighty. right now you just, you just —

❛ i miss her. ❜

#i. drabble.#i. character study.#THIS is actually a super old drabble that i posted #like two months ago but it was attached to an ask so!!! i'm reposting it in light of #the ova hhh #this is.... prolly one of my favorite things i've written on here i'm #rlly proud of it ;; toshi and nana are so important and i have #so many feelings about them i weep #blood cw #character death /#trauma /#vomit mention /#long post /

BOLD what applies to your muse.

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame ( 5 ft 4 or shorter ). Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT ( click here to convert to feet ).

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN.

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet.black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s).

COSMETICS.

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up.

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Nike. Adidas. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports tshirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Nike. Adidas.

TAGGED: @ofherstory cutie! TAGGING: everybody!

#i. character study.#me: should be in my drafts but nope

WHAT COLOUR IS YOUR LOVE ?

BLACK; love as healing

your love is the carefully tilled soil of last year's garden. In that way, loving you is rich with possibilities and growth. you are a quiet weekend night, as the stars begin to wink down at you. you sit, you listen, you reflect. perhaps in the past you've been misunderstood, maybe by yourself. everything has the potential for love. love is a promise for you.

tagged by: @yearnstarved tagging: anyone interested!

#I'm going to scream #i. character study.#i. headcanons.

the unrealized potential of steven and sara's relationship is so........

like. she's not in a place where she can even begin to think about IF she can think about steven in any kind of way. what she needs more than anything is a friend, and steven is an amazing one to have, and she can't look at anything beyond that in that moment. so she doesn't even let herself consider if she could love steven.

and steven is starting to fall for her. but he knows she doesn't love him back. and he's never going to say anything, because he isn't going to put her on the spot like that, she doesn't need that right now. and frankly he doesn't want to ask because he doesn't believe that she could ever love him, and he doesn't want to have her confirm that and say it to him. how could sara possibly love him back.

so they're just caught in this weird place in their relationship and they never get to move past that place because she dies before either one of them is ready to. so now steven will never get the chance to find out if they could have been in love one day, because they never got that future together. it’s forever going to be stuck in a what if and could have been phase, and that makes it so hard for steven to ever be able to get over it either because there’s no closure, closure is impossible to get.

#i. character study.#i. headcanons.#iii. stevensara.#nobody:#me: have i mentioned the tragedy of steven as the one who survives recently? 😁#the unrealized potential of steven and oliver is a different post because it’s a different dynamic

"how does it feel to lose, all might? knowing you spent so many years, so much of your life training to kill me to not only fail once, but twice. I may be behind this glass wall, locked underground, but are you really happy with that? knowing your master hasn't been avenged after so long. knowing you will die before you see me go, how there's a chance your new student may suffer the same fate as your master. does it hurt? I can feel your pain, your anger, and you can't do anything to stop it."

those words ( they’re not true, they’re not true — but they are ) rekindle a familiar, sickening rage & you remember, suddenly, vividly —

the blue, white, & yellow of your costume, swallowed in seeping red. the tip of one of your ribs peeking out from beneath layers of masticated flesh & muscle. viscera & a pool of blood, your own, spreading underneath you like a slaughterhouse floor. blood. blood. blood. screaming, something strewn in a trail beyond you, pieces ripped free & lying on the rusted steel like gory confetti. your breath whistling out of your chest, like through a hole, a gaping, weeping, ragged hole, but your mind wouldn’t accept that fact, pushing it away along with the most of your conscious thoughts. everything spilling over in your hands as you tried to push it all back in there was so much —

you remember dying. seeing her. swore you could feel her hands carding through your hair in that same soothing motion whenever you woke up screaming at fourteen. she was smiling. what did i tell you about that temper, toshinori & it’s not time yet, go back you silly boy & you can do it & / mom wait i don’t want to go back please come back & / i love you i’m so sorry i brought this upon you son & / i don’t think i can do it & / yes you can. now stand proud & smile for me, toshinori.

you remember getting up, because you always get up / dizzy. hands plastered to your side. you’d been injured before, so many times, but this was like nothing you’d ever had – so much had come out, you’d had to push so much back in —- you don’t look down. right arm tries to get underneath you. you try to rise. slip on the slippery slick of your own blood & fall again & again. now your left arm clamps down tightly over the wound, dragging the tattered remains of your cape to cover it & keep what’s left of you inside.

you remember fear. smile more akin to a pained sneer, snarling like a cornered animal / bared teeth, blue eyes aflame with something dark & desperate — a disturbing sort of passion that was almost villainous in its ferocity. swaying on your feet, held up only by the glowing light from within yourself. power snapping angrily across your skin in golden bolts of energy, eyes glowing with it. holding your intestines in, one trailing loosely behind you when you lunge —

united states of smash.

you remember killing him & turning yourself into a crime-scene. all for one’s body, hanging from your grip by the lapel of his tattered suit. it did not have a face anymore, vaporized / realizing with sick delight that it was even more horrific than the leaking hole in your side. seizing his ruined body around the throat with both bloodied hands, squeezing until the skull tilts back at an unnatural angle. the sickening crack of the spine snapping. unclenching bloody fingers one by one. the body falling to the ground / you falling to your knees, staring blankly at the place where all for one’s still corpse lays.

you remember gore everywhere. so much blood. yours & his. looking down at your red red hands in a mix of confusion & wonder & terror & pain. murderer. slowly curling your fingers into fists, then un-curling them as if seeing them for the first time. murderer. if there had been any onlookers it would have been easy to forget who was supposed to be the hero & who was supposed to be the villain, perhaps there were no heroes or villains between them. just one man destroying another, ripping him apart without mercy in the name of vengeance & love. murderer.

you remember pain everywhere. choking on your blood ( get used to it ), eyes sliding closed & considering the merits of laying down to die right then & there. joining your nemesis in a deep, cold grave. shaking again, shivering like a child. so scared & cold & tired & lonely & scared. death sounded like a mercy. so peaceful, so free of hatred & vengeance & the agony its brought you. so tempting.

you desperately wanted to see nana again.

but eventually you woke up. hopeless, alone, you woke up. could not breathe / could only see white. everything in a cast. antiseptic & a drug induced haze. coming to in the middle of the night thinking you’re still in battle, adrenaline screaming to move but you can’t, couldn’t, your muscles won’t respond & the night nurse has a hell of a time taking you down. torino’s pitiful smile. you wanted to cry but you couldn’t. can’t. you cannot weep. there could be a camera. get up. smile. smile. smile —

you come back to yourself & you cannot find your smile now. with each twisted word of his, you can feel the twisted absence of ribs & organs in your side more & more. the same unbridled anger that reared its head on that day. a scream sits behind the jawbreaking clench of your teeth. it’s not because of the physical pain, or because of what the injury took away from you. a different thing he took from you, & god he’s taken so much from you but you will not let this bastard take him, too, you’ll kill him with your bare hands all over again before he ever gets close. you — you hate him & you miss her you knew happiness for four years & then it was taken she was —

“ keep her name out of your filthy goddamn mouth. she was — she was like my mother ! ” bubbles up alongside a fit of blood in the sheer intensity of your ire, voice strangled, a held in thing since you were eighteen. you feel so young & helpless, just like you did on that day & you slam your fist onto the arm of your chair. it cracks, just like you do, “ she died saving me from you. you killed her & you fucking laughed ! that’s all you’re good at, you take lives like they’re worth nothing, & you re-arrange & give & take however you please because you think you’re a god ! you call it your birthright, you call it destiny. i call it evil, ”

you’re not even sure when you stood up & approached the glass until somebody over the intercom tells you to step back. you don’t. instead, you lean in closer, hands shaking. you will them to be all might’s, so you could snap his neck like a twig all over again. nothing happens & that makes you angrier, more scared. you’re feeding into him, falling for his same old tricks again but you don’t care.

“ you’re wrong. i’m going to LIVE, i’m going to raise him, while you rot here like the piece of shit that you are. you are never going to hurt my successor or anyone else, not one more person while i’m still standing, you hear me, you sick bastard ? never again. your future is a pipe dream, & it is never going to come to pass. ”

&&. @quirkthief !!