#(they are meant to be funny first and foremost)

[i-bite-vocaloids-official]

i am. kind of really scared of you actually /hj

Don't worry, I'm actually much scarier than I seem :)

[apaperswan]

I must say, one of my absolute favourite scenes in #iwtv is the tap dancing at Grace's wedding. It's the last moment of true happiness and family for Louis, the last hurrah before everything goes down. It is not only Paul's death, it is the loss of his community, the things that used to keep him whole and connected to the world.

For a Black creole man in NOLA in the 1910s, that very community meant safety, meant life, memory, validation, care and a sense of identity. The sense of eradication and loss that Louis in the book feels as a white land owner here becomes much more powerful, much more significant. Louis has lost the only space where he could feel loved and whole. Paul's death enacts not only Louis' journey to his vampiric self, but most importantly the total loss of a network, an identity, a community. He renounced not only his mortal life but his Blackness. Especially since his chosen companion is a "French white".

With Claudia he finds again that sense of a community that transcends family ties to become a reciprocal recognition of a destiny that is first and foremost a connection to NOLA's roots and the city's past. Yes, Louis feels responsible for the spread of racial violence against the Black community of NOLA, and directly for the consequences on Claudia's life, but he also tries to reconnect with that element of his identity that Lestat could and will never understand.

I think that the tap dancing scene really encompasses who Louis is as a character: a warm, loving and funny man, a beloved member of a community, a man who has secrets and a temper, but he's overall a caring and affectionate man.

Lestat did not only see his temper, his willingness to fight and his ingenious mind, he also got to know a man who can weep at the opera, and be kind to a woman is not attracted to, whose profession did not guarantee her societal approval.

When people wonder what Lestat finds in Louis, why is Louis so special, I think about Grace's wedding and Miss Lily, I think about Paul and Grace. Louis was fervently human, in a non rhetorical way, alive and brimming with love and affection, along with pride, stubbornness and often brusque manners.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can you do an Alastor x fem!reader where Alastor confesses his love to her, but she doesn't believe him, thinking it's some kind of sick joke? She just laughs nervously, saying something like “yeah, yeah, I got it, very good joke, Al, your humor is getting better,” expecting that it will actually turn out to be some kind of prank

However, Alastor doesn't stop and tries to convey to her that he really loves her, but she still doesn't believe him because she doesn't trust him completely. Like, he's the radio demon, one of the most dangerous and powerful overlords who seemingly despised the idea of ​​getting close to someone, what if he just wants to trick her so he can maybe make a deal with her or something?? That's why at first she tries to avoid him in order to get rid of this awkwardness due to his confessions, but gradually in the end she begins to meet him halfway and considers the idea of ​​​​starting to date him after all. Not official yet, but the chances are great

WELP-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You're used to expecting the worst-case scenario and protecting your heart first and foremost, it's just how you learned to survive

You've learned not to trust anyone, especially anybody down here in hell with you, everyone has an ulterior motive

Yet...by some weird twist of fate you found yourself a home at the hotel, Charlie somehow having convinced you to stay

Whether or not you believed in redemption, you couldn't deny that you didn't feel a sense of closeness with everyone there

Even Alastor was nice to hang around sometimes, though you didn't trust him in the slightest

How could you? The Radio Demon?? He's got plans for his plans and only sees people for their use, he doesn't care about anyone, especially not you

You're just amusing to him, which is fine, you can tolerate being amusing just not being used

You had a comfortable relationship with the overlord which was something that not many people could say

You two got along well enough, spent a good amount of time together and actually had decent conversations

He'a charming and handsome, a dangerous combination but you were far too addicted to his presence now to worry about it, you can still protect your heart

Or at least you did, until Alastor decided to toy with your feelings, how he found out about your budding crush was beyond you

You two were walking alone together at night, laughing at some couple you two had witnessed earlier, teasing them

"I just don't understand how any man could be that whipped for a woman! I can't wrap my head around it..!"

Instead of joining in your laughter, he hummed and looked over at you strangely before looking ahead

"Oh, I don't know... I find myself understanding men like that a little more these days."

It's like a bucket of ice water just fell on you, your laughter cutting off as you look at him in confusion

"What do you mean? Are you...seeing someone or something?"

He looks as uncomfortable as a man with a permanent smile can be, tapping his claws against his staff

"Heavens no, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone special in my life... someone I wouldn't mind courting."

He gives you a meaningful glance then looks away again, stopping suddenly and facing you

"Alastor-"

"I wouldn't mind being whipped for you."

Your stomach sours and you frown, pushing at his shoulder a little harder than you meant to

"Yeah, that's real funny, Alastor. Why don't you go try that joke on someone else next time?"

You walk off as quickly as you can, leaving a baffled looking Alastor in your dust

Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to confess!? He grits his teeth and rubs his hand over his face as he watches you run away from him

You don't talk to him the next day, or the day after that, in fact... Alastor is pretty sure you're avoiding him because any time he tries to talk to you-

You find an excuse to run off, your relationship with him awkward and nervously hanging on by a thread

He ruined it and all your walls came right back up

You should've known he would exploit your weakness like that, should've seen that he was only being so good to you because he wanted to use everything he learned against you

You don't know what he gets out of it or what his goal is, but you're sure he's got an angle

Even now, he's trying to mess with your feelings, bringing you flowers, pushing little notes under your door, one time he even tried to serenade you

He keeps trying to tell you that he cares about you, that he feels for you, that he wants you, and you just don't want to hear it

It hurts to be toyed with

Everyone else at the hotel can see what's happening between you two which makes everything that much more embarrassing

"Come on, Husk! I know you know something! Why is he targeting me!? What do I have that he wants?"

Husk looks visibly uncomfortable, looking over your body before looking away, suddenly interested in a smudge on a glass

"I don't know anything so quit asking me! Why don't you just sit down and talk with him, huh?"

Oh, he knows something

Angel smirks and nudges your leg with his own, invading your personal space to further tease you

"You're tellin' me that you ain't flattered by all this attention he's givin' you? I've seen the way he's been mooning over you lately, and let me tell you~ That shit ain't fake~"

You huff and shake your head, mostly to hide the blush on your face from them

"He has an angle, everyone always does."

"Look if you wanna be a blind bitch then be my guest but at least promise me you'll hit that and tell me the details~?"

"ANGEL!"

You can't avoid Alastor forever no matter how hard you try, eventually running into him late one night when everyone else is in bed

You should've known better than to get that late night snack, but you had skipped dinner earlier, and you were hungry

You're washing your plate off when you hear Alastor walk in, stiffening once you realize you have no real excuse to run away anymore

"Alastor-"

He sucks in a breath and stays still as if scared he'll chase you away, which he might actually be worried about due to your actions lately

"I know you think I confessed to you in order to get something from you but that's far from the truth. I do genuinely find myself attached to you."

You feel your lip wobble a little, hugging yourself as you look away from him

"Don't. Don't you dare mess with me like this or I'll never forgive you, Alastor."

He takes another step closer to you, cautious as if trying not to scare you away

"I'm being entirely honest with you, I've fallen for you in ways I can't even begin to understand or convey to you. These last few weeks have been torture for me."

He's gripping your arms gently to stop you from turning away, the simple touch spreading warmth throughout your body

You have missed him a lot...

"I'm not asking that you confess your love to me, I only want a chance to show you I'm being genuine with you..."

You glance up at him before taking a step back, blushing furiously at the pathetic puppy eyes he's giving you

You can't believe you're going to agree to this, he better not make you regret it later or you'll make him suffer for it

You sigh and point at him, doing your best to remain calm and not let your emotions show

"I'll think about it, okay? Just...give me time to think."

He visibly relaxes and sighs in relief, giving you a warm smile as if you had just said yes

"That's more than I could ask for, I'll wait hundreds of years for you if that's what you want."

You blush more and have to cover your mouth to stop an excited squeal from escaping your lips

"Q-quit flirting with me! I already said I'd think about it..!"

He chuckles softly and reaches out to rub your cheek before pulling away and turning to leave

"Okay okay~ I'll wait for you...~"

He leaves you there in the dark, blushing and fuming to yourself

Having a handsome overlord on your arm wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to you

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

TW: Sim Spice

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [I returned home in a daze. My whole self not entirely present in my body]

Nancy Narrates: [And when I closed my eyes for the night, it was with thoughts of her]

[such a pretty threat too] [I am so happy to have met you, Nancy]

Nancy: [moans softly]

Geoffrey: [murmurs] Hey baby, you're home. Malcolm has a cold.

Nancy: Ok, Geoffrey. Go back to sleep.

Nancy Narrates: [I had to get through it, as I always did. I couldn’t allow anything to distract me, especially when I had so much at stake]

Chester: I’d like Nancy to oversee the Dreamer Project.

Nancy: Me, sir?

Chester: I see what you’ve done in Del Sol Valley. I’m impressed, Nancy. That is the kind of initiative that I can trust to lead this business.

Chester: I have observed your work throughout the years. While inheritance is assured, are you prepared to take on the role of CEO? You have the potential, my daughter. Show me what you can do.

Nancy: I-I will. I’ll do great, father.

Nancy Narrates: [My father was ready to see what I was capable of. I had to give it my all]

[laughter]

Dirk: Mrs. Landgraab! Thank you for coming. Early as always. [chuckles] My apologies, I sent out an email that my 9am was running late. Please, take a seat. I have a few things I’d like to address.

[silence]

Dirk: [clears throat] Guess I’ll jump right in. First and foremost, budget is at the forefront, and we’re looking to reduce costs in any way we can without compromising infrastructure. This project has been a long held dream of mine. It’s personal, so it’s crucial that I make the right investment for the citizens of San Myshuno. If you look out this window, you can see the impact the Landgraab Company has had on this city; however, Feng’s portfolio aligns closely with our vision for The Dreamer Project.

Dirk: Lily Feng of Feng Enterprise informed me that they can cut costs by 10% by importing material from Tomarang that is affordable yet high quality.

Nancy: Is that right?

Lily: It is what makes us the best in the business.

Dirk: 10% does peek out interests-

Nancy: 20%! I can cut cost by 20% across the board.

Dirk: Hmm. Here’s how we’ll proceed. I’ll give you both 30 days to come up with a proposal, and whichever meets our requirements best will be awarded the bid.

Lily: Lovely.

Nancy: Perfect.

Dirk: Excellent. Thank you both for your time.

Lily: You know, they say to never meet your heroes, but you’ve been nothing but accommodating. Thank you soo much for the lead, Nancy.

Nancy: ‘Small modest firm’, right? You don’t think this is a fucked up way to ‘get your footing’ and ‘network’?

Lily: [coos] Ohh, did I bruise your ego?

Nancy: Oh, please. I meant what I said. The Landgraab Co. tops the market. I’ve put plenty of no name firms out of business, what’s one more?

Lily: Did you or did daddy do it?

Lily: Like I said, this is a man’s game. You’re either going to ask for what you want or take it by any means necessary. Not that I had to try very hard, you gave it all up sooo easily. I didn’t even have to beg.

Nancy: Funny. When I win this bid, you’ll be on your knees begging me for a job.

Lily: [tuts] Tell you what, when I win, my small firm won’t make a laughing stock of you. Instead, how about you come to my office in that sexy little red dress you wore and kiss my heels?

Nancy Narrates: [Oh, what an infuriating, little-]

Nancy: -BITCH! Excuse my language.

Judith: Oh, no need to apologize, I am living for this darling.

Nancy: And to parade around with that cocky fucking smirk like she’s already won. I want to see her fail so badly. I want to ruin her!

Judith: Then you make sure she knows who the hell you are and that she picked the wrong Landgraab!

Nancy: I can’t lose this, Judy. It’ll be the last thing I do if I did. My god, I’ve never been more stressed-

Judith: Hey, relax, love. Did you get the parcel I sent you?

Nancy: Yes. It said to run a bath and pour myself a glass of wine before opening- what’s this about?

Judith: I think if you were getting off regularly, you could focus properly. Clearly, your darling husband isn’t cutting the bill. So, I made a little purchase to help—clear the tunnels, so to speak. Ah, I have to go. Kisses darling! Have fun!

Nancy: Wait! What am I- [sighs] What am I supposed to do with this..

Nancy Narrates: [I had 30 days to win. I had to focus. No distractions]

[Don’t you want to know what it feels like? I can show you-]

[buzzing]

Geoffrey: Nance? Are you still coming with me to get the boys from practice?

Nancy: Yes! I’m coming!

Geoffrey: Okie dokie!

[occamstfs]

Wouldn't It Be Funny?

Back again with a longer military tf, Hope you enjoy! - Occam

Curtis and Joseph were bored out of their minds. After growing disenchanted with university life the two were well into a gap year and have been finding progressively less stimulating ways to waste away their time. Without assignments piling up and biweekly mandatory lectures they were firmly adrift as the days of the week blur together. Curtis continues scrolling on his phone while Joseph, phone ever-so-recently dead, tries to think of anything to do while it charges back up.

“Wait! I think my brother left a stash of beer last time he visited!” Curtis looks up and squints at his friend, “the best thing you think we could be doing right now is day drinking alcohol your brother left here months ago?” Joseph makes a motion inviting Curtis to produce a better idea which goes unanswered as he rolls his eyes and gets up to accompany Joseph on this ignoble quest.

Joseph leads Curtis to the hall closet where he had apparently thrown everything his brother, Nick, had left after staying over for a couple weeks. There is some deodorant and other toiletries scattered about although the floor, first and foremost however, what catches Curtis’ eye is an army uniform laying in a heap, in the corner of the closet. There is just something about it. Any time he starts to move his attention away from it another question pops into his mind requiring a deeper inspection of the jacket. He wonders how durable the uniform actually is? It looks as if it's never been worn though he knows that Nick has certainly done some training in it. He simply must have a closer look.

Before he could act on that, the jacket he so craved was chucked at him as Joseph found his bottled quarry underneath. “Score! It’s almost full too, we can have two each and rock, paper, scissors over the last one.” Joseph heads to the kitchen well on his way to some palatable lukewarm beers as he continues to chat busily at Curtis. His roommate doesn’t hear him however as the only thing on his mind is the scratchy jacket in his arms. 

He almost blushes looking down and feeling it in his arms, quite a bit heavier than he thought it would be. Surely he should toss it back with the rest of Nick’s things but it’s such a nice jacket. Quite a shame it's gone so long just sitting in their unworn. Maybe he’d just toss it on as a prank. Yeah Joseph would love that, seeing his friend in this massive jacket. His body acts quicker than his mind though, swiftly putting it on, pulling the hem down to straighten it out and pulling the sleeves up so you can just see his hands out the end.

Curtis hears his friend opening bottles in the kitchen and grins as he pictures the look on Joseph’s face as he sees him wearing this. He zips it up and struggles to get wrinkles out of the pockets before the grand reveal. No reason to not try and look legit. For it to really be funny it needs to look good. As soon as the thought that this would be funny enters his mind however he has a sharp headache and groans. No longer able to recall the incongruity of the situation as he steps out to see his friend.

Rounding the corner Curtis quickly starts what is meant to be a comedically poor salute but instead executes one with the precision of a machine. This only heightens the comedy of it all from where Joseph is standing however, halfway through a bottle of beer he chokes and spits up the beer all over the counter. He takes a moment to recover from this waste of beer before looking up once more and laughing so hard he can’t stand up straight.

Curtis in turn clenches his fist hard enough to pop a joint as he feels aggressively defensive. Why is his friend laughing at him. His back tenses with more effort than he has sustained in months, and more strength then he has wielded in a lifetime, as he cannot let this slight go unreciprocated. “What’s so funny, Kid.” Joseph looks up to see Curtis with an expression of rage more genuine than any emotion he had seen of his friend in months. It is immediately met with a flinch and a recoil as Joseph can’t bring himself to his friends’ burning gaze, “Jesus Curtis is everything alright? I thought you were doing a joke?”

A Joke? Curtis’ neck spasms breaking him out of his statuesque posture and upon rubbing a neck more muscular than he thought possible, he remembers, of course he was doing a joke! Why else would he be wearing Nick's Jacket! Smiling as he remembers how good it landed, he heads over to his friend, “Sweet you already opened a bottle for me! What’s the move now, did you want to game?” 

Joseph, shell-shocked by this return to spirits, assumes that the whole thing was now some shit joke, hands his friend a beer and heads to set up his PS5, “sure whatever dude, can you get the lights?” Which Curtis quickly does, not noticing his arms definitively stretching much further out of the jacket than they should. Waiting for his friend to finish the setup Curtis paces behind the couch, each step louder than the last as he grows less careful of his footing and he continues to ever so slightly grow into this jacket.

“Can you chill dude?” 

“Oh! Sorry did-”  

“And why are you still wearing my brother’s jacket!”

“Your brothers-” Curtis pauses to look at the name stitched onto his chest and is also shocked that he’s wearing Nick’s jacket though decidedly not for the same reason that Joseph assumed. “Woah sorry kid? I guess I was cold? Do you want me to throw it back in the closet?”

“Just take it off dude! And stop calling me kid,” puffing as he sits back on the couch and starts to play some game Curtis feels like he should recognize before taking off the jacket and heading to put it in the closet. He scratches at his chin as he tries to work out what feels so off right now. Hanging up Nick’s jacket, sure not to leave any creases, he remembers that he’ll probably need to shave soon so he doesn’t get a mark at the next inspection, his rougher hands feeling around his sharper jaw to check the damage.

Returning to the living room he trips over what he assumes is his own feet but is embarrassed to find; Ah! It’s his jacket! Thank god he let his discipline slack here and not back at base. He picks it up as Joseph turns around hearing the stumble and begins to hurry him back before instead asking, “did you do something with your hair?” To which Curtis tilts his head like a dog before Joseph shouts once more, “Dude! Are you wearing my brother’s socks!?”

“No of course not they would never fit.” He says looking down to see the same army green socks he always wears, not Nick’s. “Well my feet do seem larger than I thought they were.” continuing as he bends down to inspect his feet, Joseph scrambles over to do similarly, though neither notices as they slowly inch even larger across the carpet. Instead Joseph is immediately thrown for a loop hearing a loud groan from his friend as he stands back up. Now almost a head taller than he was before bending down.

“Fuck dude you’re so tall!” Joseph reaches up to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Curtis was always taller, a fact Joseph was already none too pleased with, but this was ridiculous. He almost has to strain and as he does finally get his arms up he immediately finds thick traps under his friend’s strained shirt, “Asshole! Have you been working out without me!?” 

“Of course not. When would I? Or who would I even-”

“I mean, with recruiters right?” Joseph offers forth without the thought even consciously entering his mind. It made no sense to him but it was true. Suddenly it's as if some form of static fills the minds of both the men, a warm static buzzes through Curtis’ mind and body as he starts to unconsciously put the newly reclaimed uniform back on himself. Joseph experiences something far harsher in his own mind, the static is unbearably cold and punishing. He claws at his head, no longer able to hold two ideas of who Curtis is in his mind. And it is clear which reality is prevailing as Curtis slides his thicker arms into the jacket, flexing to make sure his uniform is fitting just right.

As he begins to zip up the jacket his pecs begin to make themselves well more than apparent. His decidedly larger nipples poking out as the apparently nylon shirt hugs his defined chest and he struggles to get the zipper closed without being uncomfortably tight on his pecs before deciding to just leave it unzipped for now. “Why would I be working with recruiters, lil’ dude?” He looks confused at his friend, or his friend’s little brother? Before smirking and seizing the chance, “If anything you’re the one who should be working with them, gotta be bigger than that to join up with us!”  He puts a hand on Joseph’s head messing with his hair, jolting Joseph back to this new reality.

“Curtis! Do you not think something weird is happening here!”

“Oh? Did your brother not tell you I go by Curt?”

“My brother? Fuck dude! It’s his jacket! You’re wearing his jacket again!”

“Ah no lil’ dude this one here is mine, check it!”

Joseph looks at the clear name tag on his chest clear as day with Curt’s last name on it, not noticing as he seamlessly uses Curt’s apparent preferred name. Instead he stares at a symbol over the center of Curt’s chest clearly also different than the one on his brother’s uniform. Curt smirks as he points to it himself, “Impressed kid? I’m already a Private First Class, not too hard to outpace Nick though. I mean love the guy but come on! Show some hustle! We enlisted together for a reason dude!”

Suddenly Joseph feels that this statement was a bridge too far. He feels a pit in his chest as he feels he has just lost something greater than he can understand going to slap the exemplar of a man in front of him, “Snap out of it!” Before even nearing a strike however his wrist is snatched out of the air and held fast above his head. Curt stares daggers into Joseph at this sign of aggression, this challenge. His eyes darken as his stubble grows out even more. Joseph feels Curt’s grip grow even darker watching as the hair on his arms darkens spreading out from the sleeves. He brings in Nick’s little bro closer to his face as his warm, heaving breaths distract Joseph from the pain in his upheld wrist before he lets go and guffaws, “You’ve gotta be quicker than that kid if you want to enlist with us! Where is your brother anyway? ‘S why I came over right?”

Joseph is perplexed as Curt lets him go, also unsure as to why this mammoth of a man is in his living room. They are quickly assuaged as Curt gets a text from Nick. “Oh you need a ride did ya kid? No problem! He just wants you to bring over the jacket he left over here and we’ll head on out.” Curt struggles to shove his feet in his combat shoes before finding himself distracted as the shoes push out to fit his ever larger feet.

Joseph’s mind remains a battlefield but it is clear which side is soon to rout as he heads to the closet where he just wanted to grab some beer. Inside he finds not only his brother's jacket, expertly hung, but a second one that looks almost supernaturally comfortable. He pauses before reaching out, feeling an existential aversion to the jacket hanging in his closet. before there’s a brisk breeze through the house and he shivers. Joseph quickly grabs his brothers and slides into the latter jacket, a tad too big but the world around him feels much warmer now that he has it on.

After suiting up Joseph quickly rushes back to his brother’s friend, quite wanting to make a good impression on the private first class. As he rushes his footsteps quickly grow in volume as his tennis shoes thicken into pristine combat shoes and grow far wider as his feet race to keep up, filling their increased space. Barely avoiding tripping over his now massive feet, he sees that Curt is of course not a private at all but his Corporal, as he freezes and salutes. His biceps straining his sleeves as his stained white shirt begins to slowly make room for the soldier’s expanding muscle. “At ease Joe, Let’s go ahead and head on out.”

Curt leads Joe out to his lifted truck and has him get in before loading a few more things into the bed of his truck. There is a load of clearly dirty towels in the back seat as Curt clearly has an issue bringing in laundry after his workouts. Although he doesn’t make it a habit of driving recruits so it’s not usually an issue. Sitting in the musky cabin does immediately cause issues for Joe however, as he puts the seatbelt on he feels his body start to expand in every direction it can. His pecs push against both his shirt and the seatbelt. He pulls his tight shirt down, straining it to the brim as he feels a sudden itch in his crotch. His hand already down there and finding it impossible to bring his attention anywhere else he sees his bulge push out, almost doubling in size as he scratches his increasingly overgrown pubes. He struggles to cover the impossible to miss bulge forcing his brother’s jacket over his crotch, the added pressure and warmth overwhelms him as Curt notices from outside

Curt watches as his new recruit’s shoulders broaden and his jaw widens. He slightly shifts in his seat, almost gyrating, running the hand not shoved in his pants through his hair, leaving behind a respectable high and tight demanded of any respectable recruit.

Curt slowly opens the door giving the recruit the briefest of chances to at least perform decency. Immediately wrenching the hand from his pants to salute, shouting “Sir!” towards his Corporal, eyes growing deathly serious as he touches a visibly sweat covered hand to his brow. Curt’s eyes glint as he notices the action flung Nick’s jacket off and exposed Joe’s still expanding bulge and unzipped pants. The two feel a hunger starting to grow in their chests as Curt hops into the driver's seat. Adjusting his rear view as he juts up once more in height, his jacket making it apparent to all he is now a sergeant, Curt begins to drive off towards the base. 

Curt puts his hand on Joe’s inner thigh, overstimulating the private who roughly clenches his jaw trying to keep it together. He feels pre start to soak through Joe’s fatigues as he starts to rub his thigh. Grunting as he too feels a powerful stirring in his crotch, his cock forcing itself further down his leg. “Wouldn’t want to stop at my place first, would ya’ Joe?” Joe stares at the sergeant ahead of him with a lust deeper than the can understand, and a hunger to grow even larger. Curt chuckles, “gotta release some of this energy before we break the new to Nick anyway.” He turns his car and begins to race towards his apartment on the base. 

As the heat in the car begins to fog up the windows the two men could not remember anything besides who they were since joining the army. After an anything but quick fuck, they would get back to work on the base. Curt distracts himself as he commands his troops and Joe gets ready for his promotion ceremony, ready to rub it in his brother’s face that he was already going to be higher ranked. The two follow orders flawlessly as they always have, performing their duties with rigor. The only thing more present on their minds than dedication to their fellow soldiers being the excitement for the next time they are to fuck.

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Being Sick but Dean Winchester’s your BF Headcanons ✨

✨ Dean Winchester x Reader ✨

Minors! Go away! Don’t interact! I don’t have a witty joke but I still don’t want you here! ¡Adios!

A/N: okay now that they’re gone… I’m sick! Some sort of nasty cold shit. Also I have the fucking la la land piano riff stuck in my head. So, more headcanons!!! (As opposed to a “proper” fic. For Dean ofc. It’s okay, it’ll come eventually)

Icons by me, all notes-especially commentary- are extremely appreciated!!

Content Warnings: if you’ve read the others it’s along the same vein, cute but still spicy enough to warrant that 18+ rating. Reader’s GN but AFAB.

Enjoy!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-okay so first of all, being sick sucks. Whether it’s a runny nose, a headache, throat pain (get your mind out of the gutter), stomach aches, whatever- it fucking sucks.

-but it sucks a little less when you have Dean Winchester taking care of you

-this man knows how to take care of any common virus or cold. Years of taking care of his little brother meant that he could never be sick and that if he was it had to go fast, because he believed he always needed to be able to take care of Sammy first and foremost.

-once he sees you sniffling he’ll bench you from whatever job you guys are working. Immediately. No ifs, ors, ands, buts or coconuts about it.

-once the job is over he’ll come home. If you’re up and moving he’ll sling you over his shoulder or pick you up bridal style, and throw you (in a loving way) down on the couch or bed, depending on where you want to lay.

-he’ll snuggle you a little, and then take a quick shower so as not to get whatever it is you have. He’ll give you whatever blankets and drinks you want, and then head off to the kitchen

-his go-to is to make a vat of chicken noodle soup, extra lemony for vitamin c. He’ll usually either add some chilis to the soup or put some in a salad for you to help clean your system out. And it will always be better than fine dining.

-of course he cooks shirtless, and he’ll come back into the room with a big bowl of soup and your salad ready, cookies still in the oven. He’ll be wearing sweatpants and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with nothing under it. And if you weren’t sick, you’d definitely do what the apron asked.

-he’ll help you sit up so you can eat it, putting a pillow on your lap so that the bowl doesn’t burn you and wiping your hair out of your face. If your hot he brings a bandana that he dunked in ice water and ties it around your head, if your cold he brings more blankets

-he hates that he can’t touch you or hug you when your miserable like this, but he does his best.

-while you’re eating he’ll talk about the hunt, keeping it as light and funny as possible- probably whatever he and Sam bickered about, the sights he saw, the food, etc

-and he’ll put on whatever you’d like him to. Preferably Gilmore Girls, but he ain’t gonna influence you

-when you’re done he’ll take the empty bowls to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink for Sammy to do them when he gets back to the bunker.

-he’ll grab the cookies, and bring a little plate of them over, and then sit on the sofa in the Dean cave so that your calves are draped over his thighs. If you’re in bed he’ll just lay on the opposite side, occasionally stroking your back comfortingly

-he checks your temperature from time to time, and always adapts according to your sickness. If it’s stomach bug he’s got a trash can beside the bed/couch and is ready to hold your hair. If it’s strep throat he’s gone honey. If it’s literally anything he’s probably got some kind of temporary remedy

-now (you know what time it is 🌶️)

-if you get a little hot n bothered while your sick

-and no I don’t mean hot from the fever

-but like the other kind

-and he can tell

-well, there’s a home remedy for that too 😏

-and you’ll warn him against it, not wanting to get him sick, but he’ll shush you, kissing your belly and pulling your sleep shorts and underwear down in one go

-he’ll kiss all up your legs, making you wish so, so much that you could make out with him

-but he won’t tease. Not when his sweetheart isn’t feeling well.

-so he’ll get as close to your dripping heat as he can, not making you move at all, because he knows you’re comfy on your little bed of pillows and his blankets

-and then he’ll nudge his nose against your clit, the only teasing he’ll do before diving in

-he’s gentle though. Not dissimilar to how he is in the mornings (Shameless plug, sorry not sorry haha)

-he’ll go nice and slow, adding his fingers as he goes, one at a time

-he uses one to gather your wetness and spread it over your poor bud

-and then adds another to scissor into your heat, massaging your spongey walls

-and by the third finger slowly yet deliberately filling you up, along with his mouth on your clit, he’ll have you coming, feeling so much better in one regard

-he’ll lap it all up, careful not to overstimulate you before pressing a sweet kiss to your belly, just as he did before he went down

-he’ll then get up and draw you a bath, helping you pee and then get into the tub

-he’ll dry your hair and then help you into a fresher set of pjs, and lay with you until you fall asleep, then turn off the tv and any lights before getting back in bed.

-and even though he has to sleep a little away from you he can’t help but hold you hand while you sleep, even if it means risking getting sick too

-and if you wake up in the middle of the night, he will too, ready to do whatever you need him to

-he loves you, and it’s he loves knowing that you love him too and would also take care of him if he were in your shoes

-so yeah

-sweet cutie pie caretaker ass with the greener-than-pines eyes gah

-I rest my case

If you have any ideas for headcanons and/or fics my ask box is always open!!

Xx!

[gaydiation-poisoning]

It really is desperately funny to me (and by that I mean it inspires violence in my soul) to watch liberals run around like headless chickens using marginalized groups as meat shields for the Democratic party, but the second anyone from those marginalized groups speak up to say "Hey the Democrats don't care about us either, they kill us regardless" liberals suddenly shit their pants and start screaming about voter suppression and propaganda.

They loooove to preach about their allyship until that allyship doesn't make them feel good anymore, until it means deconstructing their white supremacy, until it means not centering themselves in everything. Until it means listening to marginalized people say things they don't want to hear.

But don't forget, they're in the allyship sphere to feel GOOD about themselves first and foremost, so they can't admit to themselves when they're suppressing the voices of the marginalized, because they're Allies™. So they cling to any story they can that will protect their fragile sense of self.

So who CARES if there's voices screaming to be heard, telling them the status quo is killing them? Who needs to do introspection on their own white supremacy when you can assure yourself that anyone who disagrees with you is just a Bot from one of those Evil Foreign Countries™ meant to spread propaganda against your party, right?

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; jax

requested by ; anonymous (26/10/23) & anonymous (27/10/23)

fandom(s) ; the amazing digital circus

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; jax

outline ; “i'm so excited you're doing requests for TADC!!!!! do you have any general dating hcs for jax?”

&

“I saw that you now do The Amazing Digital Circus requests!

Soooo how about Jax relationship headcanons?”

note ; characterisation may be shaky as we only have the pilot episode out so far

warning(s) ; canon typical asshole behaviour from jax, mostly fluff!

first and foremost, jax is an asshole and that will not change when the two of you start flirting or when you become an ‘official’ couple — he’s not outright malicious towards you anymore, sure, but he’ll keep on teasing and messing with you at every opportunity (he’s also very unlikely to apologise unless he feels like you’re genuinely upset with him and he can’t sweet talk his way out of it)

pranks and teasing are a big part of your relationship, especially if you’re able to match his mischievousness — whether that’s him leaving things in your room for you to find later that he knows will startle you, using nicknames for you that are more amusing than intimate (e.g. something poking fun at your avatar’s height, an inside joke, or just generally teasing you for something you’ve done in front of him that he refuses to let you live down)

he’s a massive flirt and always finds a way to work around caine’s rules and regulations — he leaves just enough unsaid to get the real message across and absolutely loves watching you process what he’s said and then get flustered or frustrated once you realise what he really means (even if you playfully smack him on the chest or arm because it’s more than worth it for him)

physical affection with jax only really occurs on his terms with very few exceptions — such as when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his side, or (if your avatar has hair) when he messes up your hair right after you’ve finished the introduction song — the main exception to the rule is if you’re really not doing too well and need to be grounded or comforted because of it (i.e. you’re experiencing a mental break due to your circumstances or are starting to get close to the point of abstraction for whatever reason — he might be an ass, but he cares and he doesn’t want to lose you)

during caine’s missions he generally prefers to hang out with you if possible, whether that means going off and doing your own thing, watching the inevitable chaos unfold from a safe distance, or actually participating (usually because you’re bored and he just wants to see funny things happen to people) — but that doesn’t mean you’re safe if he decides he’s bored, and he has on several occasions pushed you straight into the ‘line of fire’ of whatever you’re meant to be fighting just to see what you’ll do

(he wouldn’t do it if you could actually get hurt, mind you, but as you’re all physically safe no matter what you’re facing he’s willing to take the risk and the time in the ‘dog rabbit house’ for a laugh)

you’re just about the only person he’ll listen to if ever you tell him to ‘tone it down’… but only for a short while — yeah he can stop teasing pomni for ten minutes to let the poor jester get her bearings, and sure he’ll lay off the bugs in ragatha’s room for a week, but things always return to normal after that because he’s remarkably stubborn, a bit of an ass, and endlessly amused by the ‘suffering’ of others in the circus

if a new character or npc tries to flirt with you then he’s going to go from sassy and sarcastic to outright malicious — more openly so if it’s an npc (at least until caine gets the hint and decommissions them) but if it’s a new character trying to intrude on your relationship then he’s going to make it explicitly clear that (a) you’re taken, (b) you’re exclusive with him, and (c) he will make their time in the circus even more unpleasant if they continue down that path (especially if it’s actively making you uncomfortable in addition to just being disrespectful)

(he might not be able to cause them any harm, but he has keys to everyone’s room and little regard for the safety of others during ‘missions’ so he’s more than able to make them regret flirting with you if he wants)

[mykoreanlove]

Jackson on Kinjaz

Your phone was blowing up constantly.

„Oh my god, did you see this?????“, your friend asked.

With shaking hands you clicked on the link.

„I used to be critical on myself in my mind in a negative way. Not healthy. At all. I would call myself names and put myself down in my mind. I drank the most disgusting shakes for my body health but up here? I was rotting.“

„Yeah, yeah. I remember videos of that nasty shake. What did you put in there - chicken?“

„Gotta get my protein, man. But you know I would constantly feel guilty for what I have done or what I might do.“

„Like what?“

„Like. Okay, like did I practice enough? Is magic man good enough? What if I let everybody down? How will I cope? How will I live?

All these voices.. these fucking nagging voices were with me 24/7.“

„Damn that sounds tough. What did you do?“

„I thought it was impossible to fix because I tried so hard and nothing changed me. Or if it did, it would only last a couple of weeks and I’d be back to feeling like shit and talking down on myself.

Jackson, you moron, how could you do this? Did you really think you could make it? You don’t deserve this success. You don’t deserve to be happy.“

„Jackson, bro. I feel for you. Really.“

„Look, I’m just being honest. I would naturally think of punishments coming my way. I’d imagine injuring myself or loosing all my fans or money. I’d think of the most horrific shit late at night when I should be peacefully sleeping.

I would try to change my thoughts to change my feeling. I would rationalize my way out for hours to only find myself entering a new cave.“

„Like a merry go round.“

„Exactly, I was stuck. Same shit, different day. My gut always had this underlying feeling of tension.

I tried my best to give myself relief but like I said, I could not find Relief for longer than a week. Maybe a month at best.“

„Is that why you turned to alcohol? Because I remember you chugging down a bottle of Hennessy and thought to myself that’s not normal.“

„Oh, of course I started drinking more. I needed more. What used to make me pass out back then is like a cute little cocktail to me now.“

„Damn, that really is a lot to handle. Did you try other things, as well?“

„Look, I tried everything in the book. You name it, I tried it. Worked out. Meditated. Drank. Had sex. Nothing could give me what I craved so badly. Nothing. Until I found her.“

You swallowed hard.

You had no idea that he would share all this with the public. You were very well aware of his struggles but hearing him talk about them upset you. It broke your heart imagining him like that, all dim and broken.

Also, it made you nervous.

You had no idea that he would introduce you into the world like this.

You had no idea that he would reveal your relationship to his homies on a podcast.

Yet, you were intrigued.

„Her as in …?“

„You see, love is a funny thing, right? I didn’t plan to fall in love, nor did I want to but I kind of did. I found the one, man. I found the love of my life and I was lucky enough to have her love me back. Do you know how rare that is?“

„Yeah, it is for you. I remember our last interview and how we wanted to get you on tinder and shit.“

„Exactly! I used to be on my own for years. Years, man. I gave up on love completely, thinking this was meant for others but certainly not me. And then she came into my life. Like an angel that was coming down to help me. Save me even.“

„Your savior, huh?“

„I swear to god her love saved me. It saved me from drugs, it saved me from self destruction and first and foremost it saved me from myself. I gotta be honest man, if I hadn’t met y/n I wouldn’t even be here anymore.“

„Wow. That’s, that’s a pretty heavy revelation. I’m glad you’re doing better now.“

„Oh, I am. Management is probably going to kick my ass later but I don’t care. Let me loose fans, let me loose money. I don’t give a shit. If you support me now, you support the real Jackson Wang. And that’s me right now - happily coupled to the most beautiful soul on this planet. If you can’t handle that - my bad.“

„Okay guys, it’s over. China‘s most wanted bachelor is officially off the market. WHOOOO!!“

„Yeah, the king has finally found its queen.“

„So, what is she like?“

You paused the interview and took a deep breath. Jackson was very vocal of his feelings for you, but hearing it like that felt different. The biggest smile was plastered on his face as he was talking about you.

You as in his queen.

You as in future Miss Wang.

Hundreds of butterflies announced themselves in your stomach, making you giddy and joyful.

„Oh man, she is the best. Like, she is so breathtakingly beautiful. Inside and out. We have the best conversations. I feel like she is my best friend. Truly, no one gets me like she does. It’s just.. it’s effortlessly easy. We laugh a lot, we talk a lot, we share everything with each other. I’m just so grateful, man.“

„Yeah, I can see that. You’re grinning from ear to ear. Make sure to invite me to your wedding.“

„Like you invited me to your birthday?“

„Okayyyyy, let’s wrap it up. Guys, that’s it for today. Thank you Jackson, really appreciate you brother.“

You stopped the video, giggling at your petty boyfriend.

„Remind me to have a word with you once you’re back, yeah?“, you texted him.

It didn’t take him a second to instantly call you.

„Did you see it? Already? Damn babygirl, you’re quick“, he teased.

„You could have warned me, Wang!“

„I didn’t plan to say all that but I couldn’t help myself. It just.. it just came out of me. I really meant it though.“

„Everything?“

He knew exactly what you were implying.

„Oh, I’m gonna make you Miss Wang for sure. Rule my kingdom with me? Please?“

[colduncrustable]

the martin antis working so hard to make waves is so funny. like, you are very much allowed to like/dislike any character you please! but making it your whole personality or acting like you’re cooler for it is a little bit silly. you are not morally or intellectually superior for hating on a fiction character.

not to mention all of the characters in tma are very nuanced and complicated, just like real people (!), and erasing all of that to serve a certain narrative is a complete disservice to the entire body of work. jon and martin’s relationship was never meant to be easy, they first and foremost worked closely together as boss/employee, and in a workplace that was actively putting them in dangerous and horrible situations. the whole point is that they’re both super fucked up but they have each other anyway. they both have flaws, they both have gone through a great deal both with and without each other, but they found love anyway. the idea that the dynamic change in s5 is due to martin just being this villain is so wild? like he’s not a doormat anymore but he also loves jon so fiercely and stands by him over and over again?

jon hated him, jon ignored him, was verbally horrible to him again and again, literally sent him on a dangerous investigation and said if anyone had to die might as well be him, jon accused him of murder, screamed at him, jon was on the run, jon died. martin was his number one defender through everything, even when honestly? he didn’t do a lot to prove he deserved it. but martin was strong in his loyalty and did his best to be a supporter anyway. he picked up extra work, he thought of him kindly when no one else did, he mourned him, and he put himself directly in the line of fire for jon. for everyone, yes, but especially for jon, he says that. because after everything, protecting jon is still his number one priority.

it’s so important to his character that he isn’t s1 martin anymore—that he learns to be a real person who has thoughts and feelings and a backbone. jon wanted that, and does it not say something that they don’t work out until martin learns to have a little bite? there’s a difference between being a real complicated traumatized human person, and just straight up being evil, or an asshole. jon had to learn how to be a lot of softer things but martin had to learn how to square his shoulders and stick out his chin. they had different arcs, and that doesn’t make either of them inherently evil or bad. it makes them real and not perfect and very multilayered, yeah.

martin didn’t handle every choice or action perfectly, he made a lot of mistakes, and he never claims to be the best person ever. but jon also fucked up, a lot. it isn’t a competition or a comparison, that’s really not how that works. but they work because of their flaws. that’s a big part of them fitting together. martin represented the humanity they were saving, with all his good and bad. jon was well beyond that, and while that doesn’t inherently compromise his character, it does mean he’s viewed in a much different light.

(meaning i think jon’s sins are seen very very different to martin’s.) (to be clear i think both deserve to be looked at critically, but hating either of them devoutly seems sort of silly.)

i’m not sure how you can listen to tma and all the ways it dissects and reflects on humanity and turn around and run blogs or make posts in the fandom about how you hate one of the main characters for being all of that.

jon never would’ve made it through without martin, even if martin wasn’t the key to everything, he was the reason to push through and not give up. martin is why jon didn’t go full monster mode, why he held onto who he was and his humanity, even with the whole ‘kill bill’ thing. martin gave him a reason to keep going, to try, to care so deeply. obviously there were other factors but jon says it himself, martin you are my reason.

if you can’t handle the fact that martin isn’t a grade a soft boy by the end of the show that’s a lot more about you than it is about him. he grew and maybe not always for the better but he could be a real person for jon instead of some kind of mirror or blank slate to be reflected on. i genuinely don’t understand how he can be misunderstood so deeply.

they’re both fucked up ! and if they are alive Somewhere Else you bet your ass they’re having long talks and going to therapy and fighting and making up and pacing the floors and figuring it all out together. it isn’t clean or easy or necessarily enjoyable all the time, but humanity isn’t either, love isn’t either. they went through unimaginable trauma, and expecting either of them to be holding it together any better than they already are is wild. context, it’s important. but let’s not turn multi-dimensional characters into flat one word answers.

it’s very human to like and dislike, love and hate based off of bias and experiences and perspective. but also opinion does not make fact. everything is relative, everything is subjective, everything everything everything. it’s an open discussion yada yada idk i’m just screaming into the wall about all the nonsense.

and beyond all of that, discourse is so useless. criticism and constructive conversations are really really important but discourse is pointless! oh you ship these people? well that inherently threatens my ship! oh you like this character that i hate? well that makes me feel invalid for hating them. like what you like, hate what you hate, have your feelings. but if you post shit on the internet you will get people who disagree, sorry, that’s how it is. partaking in little arguments over who is right or wrong when it doesn’t actually have to do with anything harmful or unhealthy makes no sense though. posting on the internet about all the hate you have in your heart when the world is already so full of it doesn’t actually do anything but add more bad to an already very large pile of bad.

things can be discussions not arguments sometimes, i promise. it’s not always tooth and nail, and let’s not forget, most of it is over things that never need to be fought over.

[stackslip]

i mean to be fair to manga/brotherhood edward elric, he is a completely different character than his 03 counterpart. his function is first and foremost to be a fun, exciting shounen protagonist who vaguely breaks some of the trope's mold by being openly abrasive and selfish and physically weaker than many 90s/early 2000s shounen protags were. and he fulfills that role pretty well within the context of the story, he's genuinely very entertaining and fun and Relatable for a teen audience chafing against authority and adults looking down on you. so im never gonna say mangahood ed elric is like, a bad character when his concept is perfectly executed. im gonna be critical of say, several plot points about him (like the xerxes thing) or how he treats scar and ishbal (my problem here being less him and more that the narrative entirely validates his point of virw around the subject), but i cant deny that in reading fma he is a very endearing and fun protag to follow, and that's his primary function so.... yknow. that's fine.

in opposition, 03 ed elric is.... not meant to be nearly as relatable or fun, and the narrative is also a lot more critical of his actions, which i think is part of why to a lot of og fma fans he feels *off* and uncomfortable. he's not meant to be a funny audience stand-in or representative of teenagers saving the day despite abrasive shitty adults. if anything, his age and inexperience and trauma lead to him making mistakes, chasing the wrong leads, playing right into the hands of people much older and powerful and him lashing out or lying to himself to protect himself and alphonse. 03's slower pace and lack of budget also means that ed rarely gets to be a cool action hero and be super strong in battles. it's not nearly as triumphant or empowering, it's uncomfortable to see him be much more openly, humanly flawed, and to suffer and take away the wrong lessons from this suffering. it's also purposefully uncomfortable to see so many actions that mangahood treats glibly or shy away from ed's responsibility in awful things, being instead brought to the forefront in agonizing detail and for ed to be forced to confront them despite his pleas and denial and attempts to run from it!

because 03 ed isnt a shounen protagonist tbh. sure, he is an audience stand-in insofar that he, along the audience, is forced to confront a lot of uncomfortable truths about the system he's wilfully chosen to be part of. his flaws are relatable inasmuch that they're deeply human ones: wouldn't you too choose denial when confronted with the unwilling results of your actions? if you felt like you'd failed the one you loved most in the world, wouldn't you be a mass of guilt and trauma and passively suicidal about it? when confronted with your prejudices, would you really nod sagely and accept them or would you feel uncomfortable and struggle to accept that your framework has been flawed from the beginning?

but even so, he can be frustrating to the audience. his refusal to say out loud what the audience already knows re sloth and having created a homonculus. how his attempts at action get stopped or play right into others' wider manipulations. how he tries so hard to deny homonculi's humanity, his prejudices and racism towards ishbalans being a lot more blatant and clearly wrong. his admitted lack of regard for others if it means al is safe. he's not nearly as fun, here! he's a product of his environment, someone who could easily take the same path his father and dante embarked on, someone who could so easily become the "perfect" alchemist and quit having regard for human life altogether. his compassion is something he has to learn, his arrogance as a facade for his pain is one that crumbles progressively. he learns very slowly, sometimes makes one step back for every step forward. he has to learn to slow down and accept reality as it is, that there are many things that he cannot understand but that he has a responsibility to others and the world anyway, and this means listening. it means not cutting himself away from the world and viewing himself on a pedestal. it means taking a leap of faith, sometimes. swallowing your pride and accepting responsibility and that it is up to you to fix what you've started. you cant go back to an idealized state, because it never existed in the first place!

sure, it means this ed isnt as exciting or fun or cocky. he's insecure, he's traumatized, he's stubborn and brash in ways that aren't fun. but hot damn it he isnt so much more fascinating and nuanced than his original counterpart! a deeply tragic, layered, mature character. what a shame, how many people dont know about him or refuse to accept him because he isnt as funny or comforting as the manga

[melanieph321]

Gabriel Medina x Reader - Untamable Part 1/8

Part 2

Reader spends the summer with her first love, Gabriel Medina, for him to get a chance to know their three year old son. However, both Reader and Gabriel struggle to keep their feelings at bay.

Enjoy!

"Just hang tight baby, we're almost there."

You were coming home. After three years away, you were finally coming home. The delay was mainly due to your son, whose birth surprised many. First and foremost, his father's side of the family, as they made it very clear that they wanted nothing to do with you or your son. But then came the letters. The many letters that went against everything you had come to believe about your life.

"If you would give me a chance to be a good father, I would be." One of the letters read. The one that currently burned in your pocket convinced you to make this trip. It made you agree to stay for the summer. To let your son finally get to know his father.

"Look, Nemo, that's Vovó!" You pointed towards the docks ahead, where a red Toyota was spotted in the distance. Standing next to it was an old woman, grey haired and tanned skin. Just like you remembered her.

Your heart was beating heavily once the ferry approached the docks. Your son clung to your neck, a look of terror in his eyes as they fixiated upon the water below.

"It's okay, baby. We're almost there." You got off the boat carrying your son in your arms. The old woman standing by the red Toyota stood clenching her heart, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Meus anjos. Vocês estão em casa." (My angels. You're home.)

"Vovó!" You rushed towards your grandmother, wrapping your arms around her with your son still pinned to your hips.

"When did you get so big? Both of you?" She pinched your son's cheeks, having only gotten to know his face through the photos you've sent. "A damn shame." She muttered, stepping back to get a better look at him.

"What?"

"He looks just like his father. Jet black hair and a pair of gorgeous eyes. All that's missing are the tattoos."

"Vovó."

"Oh give me a break." She waved and carried your son towards her run down car. "Come on now, everyone's waiting for us."

By everyone, you thought your grandma meant your closest relatives, not the entire neighborhood in the village you grew up in.

"Welcome home!"

They greeted you with presents and banners. And the neighborhood children gifted you with drawings of the island, seen from the outskirts of São Sebastião.

"Please, please, let us hold the baby?"

Your son was passed around between relatives like a hot potato. The many new faces overstimulating him. Nevertheless, it was funny how they all said the same thing.

"Dear God, the child has his fathers eyes."

"All that's missing are the tattoos."

"That's what I said."

"Vovó, please." You sighed.

"What? The boy does have his father's eyes."

"Let's hope that he doesn't have his father's issues." Someone added, which made you put an end to passing around of your son. It had been a long journey from São Paulo, and the two of you needed to freshen up before dinner.

It was odd, being back home. You had always loved the ocean. The untamable sea. It was natural for you as an island girl to spend your time in the water almost every day. The taste of salt would linger on your lips from morning til noon and it wouldn't be until the ocean's color shifted from blue to red that you would wade back towards shore, making way for another day. However, it was a long time ago that you could call yourself an island girl. Since then, that girl has become a woman, dreaming of becoming a nurse by studying in the vibrant city of São Paulo.

Your pregnancy had been a setback for sure, but not the end of your dreams. It was your fault for getting caught up in your past by returning to a love you clearly lost a long time ago. That's why his letters were even more confusing to you. At least the timing of them, considering how things ended between you and your son's father. The letters weren't just a plead to become involved in your son's life again. They were also a declaration of love. Love for you.

"Leaving you behind is one of my biggest regrets in life. I've loved you since before I could even express what love was. And so I've carried the burden of letting you go like a burning chip on my shoulder. Missing the birth of my son only increased the heat of it. To think that you had to go through all of it alone breaks my heart. With all sincerity, please forgive me. Yours truly, Gabriel."

"Querida?"

There was a light knock on the bathroom door. Your grandmother poked her head in, smiling at the sight of your son washing his little hands in the bathroom sink.

"We'll be right there vovó."

"I'm just letting you know." She said, her smile fading a little as she shifted to look at you.

"Letting me know what vovó?"

"Gabriel is here, dear. I'm afraid he just arrived."

"Oh."

He was early. You knew that he was coming, however, hoped to give your son a bit more time to adjust to his new home for the summer. Nevertheless, tomorrow might as well be today.

"Tell him we' ll be right there." You nodded.

Part 2

[chaxiu]

growing sideways

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader

summary: kuroo tetsurou is all grown up. you think you might have to learn to let him go. or: an exploration of love, and loving things.

note: sorry that it's been so long!! college has been so silly funny goofy (derogatory) but i'm on break now and pretending that i dno't have to go back in a week.

sort of spoilers for occupations (kuroo, kenma, yaku) post-timeskip! (but also doesn’t really follow canonical futures… sort of a mess, to be honest.) my attempt at reconciling what i’d hoped for him and what he becomes.  title taken from a noah kahan song of the same name that has next to nothing to do with the actual fic.

cw: mention of throwing up (doesn’t actually happen, though)

___

When Kuroo Tetsurou gets scouted to a professional team in Russia, you’re the last person he tells. Technically, he doesn’t tell you at all – it’s Kenma who does, blinking up at you from behind a curtain of his hair.

“I thought he’d told you already,” he says, voice as apologetic as you’ve ever heard it, which is to say apathetic, as always, but with a dash of sympathy mixed in.

“No,” you say, because there’s nothing else left you can say. “He didn’t.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, shifting his focus back to his game. You take the moment he offers you to exhale, quietly. To resituate yourself around this new hurt in your chest.

“Does everyone else know?” you ask. Kenma lifts one of his shoulders up, a half-shrug.

“Maybe not his mom,” he offers. This is poor consolation, and both of you know it – Kuroo hasn’t talked to his mother beyond stilted platitudes in years, not since she uprooted her life and his sister and half his chest and taken it with her, leaving a husband, a son, and a house with too many rooms.

“So he’s gonna take it, then,” you say. Kuroo is a lot of things – mercurial, bright, a pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it – but everyone knows that first and foremost, he’s a volleyball player. You’d realized it for yourself, back in your first year of university, when one of your friends had dragged you to a match and you’d spotted him, arms outstretched, fingers splayed and braced as if he thought he could hold a sun in his hands. When he’d landed, you’d caught sight of his grin, almost too large for his face.

Ah, you’d thought. So this is what it means to love something.

The next morning, at your eight-thirty introductory economics lecture, you’d shuffled in and put your head down on the desk, drifting closer and closer to sleep every second. 

Then the person behind you had poked you, hard, and you’d let out a half-scream, jolting up in your seat in a way that made every single person in your lecture hall, including your professor, look at you.

The person behind you had started laughing – an ugly laugh, cackling like a hyena, the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, despite your burning embarrassment. You’d swiveled around to face him as the professor resumed his lecturing.

“What is wrong with you,” you’d hissed. It was the boy from yesterday– the middle blocker with the awful hair.

He’d raised his hands up in surrender, although there was still a crooked grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he’d said. “Just was wondering if you had a pencil.”

“You know,” you’d said, fishing one from your bag. “There are easier ways to ask people for a pencil than giving them heart attacks.”

You’d passed the pencil to him, and he’d given you a jaunty little salute with it, one that made your lips curl up despite yourself. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he’d said, and you’d turned back around again, and that was that.

Except the next lecture, you’d arrived at your usual seat to find a disposable cup of coffee there, likely from the little cafe downstairs. You’d turned to the boy behind you, raising your eyebrows.

“As a thank you,” he’d shrugged, leaning back in his chair in a way you’d suspected was meant to be cool and casual. “And also so that you don’t keep falling asleep in lecture.”

“How do you know I’ve been falling asleep in lecture,” you’d said, a little grumpily, pulling the cup towards you and taking a sip nonetheless. It wasn’t your usual order, but it was drinkable, and if you were being honest, you’d need all the caffeine you could get.

He’d watched you take a sip of the drink, a pleased smile playing on his face. “I sit right behind you. I’ve seen you take a nap at your desk every single week.” 

“I’ll have you know that that’s just the posture I learn best in,” you’d sniffed.

“What, drooling?”

“I do not drool,” you’d said, haughty. “And even if I did, how would you even know? You’re such a stalker.”

“Harsh,” he’d whistled, although the smile didn’t leave his face. “I’m just observant.”

You’d rolled your eyes at him, swiveling around to face the front of the room as the professor began his lecture. And if you’d managed – for the first time this entire semester – to make it all the way through without falling asleep, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.

The next week, another cup was waiting for you. 

“You know,” you’d said, “I think you’ve repaid your debt from the pencil in full.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the pencil,” he’d replied. “I didn’t get the right order for you last week, did I? I wanted to try again this time.”

You’d blinked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kuroo,” he’d said. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Well, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you’d said, “did you ever think about just asking me for my order?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he’d asked.

The drinks kept coming, every week, without fail, ranging from plain to ridiculously extravagant. He still hadn’t gotten your order, although at some point during the semester, he’d migrated from sitting behind you to sitting right next to you, passing you stupid notes and doodling all over your notebooks.

The last lecture’s drink was wrong, again, although you kept drinking it anyways. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime,” he’d said, sudden, and you’d nearly choked.

“What brought this on?”

“I dunno,” he’d said, uncharacteristically shy, looking away from you. “You know when you meet some people and it’s just like, they’re meant to be in my life, so you have to try really hard to not let them go?”

“So making a girl scream during lecture is your idea of an ideal introduction,” you’d said, and he’d rolled his eyes, leaning over to lightly push at your shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“I saw one of your volleyball matches,” you’d told him. Suddenly you’d wanted him to know. “At the beginning of the semester. Before we’d met.”

He seemed to understand what you were trying to say.  “What’d you think?” 

“You must really love it,” you’d said. “Playing volleyball.”

“I do.”

“Well, then, Kuroo-kun. I’ll come meet your friends, under one condition.” He’d raised his eyebrows at you, expectantly.

“I get to tell you my coffee order,” you’d said. “Some of these drinks are becoming downright disgusting.”

“You drink them anyway,” he’d replied. “But I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

You’d grinned at him, and he’d grinned back, and it’d all gone from there. 

You’ve known since you started talking to him that Kuroo is a natural at getting people to orbit around him. He draws people near – crooked grin, warm eyes, quick wit – and then holds them there, at arm’s length, never quite letting them get any closer. You’d thought, perhaps, that you could be an exception to this. That he’d seen something in you that was enough for him to want to let you in. To pull you close. The thing is this: in your heart of hearts you are a romantic, and to you Kuroo has always been a little like the sun, like tilting your face towards the golden wash of afternoon and remembering, soft and gentle like falling into something, So this is what it is to love.

“I don’t know,” Kenma says, and you look at him looking at his game. He is, out of anyone, the most likely to understand how you feel: the air knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and breathless . But he has the reassurance of more than a decade of friendship behind him, built on neighboring houses and the squeak of shoes on a gymnasium floor. Some days you feel like what you have with Kuroo is fragile and insubstantial, playing-card houses on a precarious surface. Like if he left he’d take it all with him.

“Of course he’s going to take it,” you say past the lump in your throat. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the little sound effects from his game pause. He blinks up at you through his bangs.

“We should throw him a party,” you say. “Or something. To celebrate.”

“If you think that’s a good idea,” he says, noncommittal. 

There is an ache in your chest and you think that once you leave Kenma’s apartment you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying. “Of course it’s a good idea. You know how much Kuroo loves having everyone he loves in one place.”

“That’s exactly the thing,” Kenma murmurs, but you don’t hear him, already pulling out your phone to make a list.

“Invites, decorations, food… Oh! Kenma, do you think Kuroo would like it if we made him saba? Or went out to a restaurant that specializes?”

“Probably,” he says. The game resumes. “He’s always going on about doca-something acid.”

“Docosahexaenoic acid,” you correct absently, scrolling through a list of nearby restaurants. Kuroo’s talked about it enough – and despite your better judgment, you’ve listened to his rants enough times – for you to remember the name in full. 

You miss the look that Kenma gives you, exasperatedly fond.

It turns out that Kuroo knows a lot of people. Even more than you’d thought. There are the guys that he plays with on the volleyball team, of course, but then there’s also his other business major friends and the other undergraduates who work in the same lab that he does in his free time (because of course he’d be the type of person to do that.) Then there’s the neighbors he’d had freshman year and still miraculously keeps in touch with, and the ones from sophomore year. Then Kenma casually mentions that Kuroo still frequently talks to everyone from his volleyball team his third year of high school, and you have to beg him to let you use his phone and ensure that everyone from there will be able to attend.

Then there’s the issue of getting enough food: you know from prior experience that volleyball players can eat, and there’s a part of you that worries that the budget you’ve scraped together from whatever your friends managed to donate won’t be enough for one of them, let alone the stampede you’re about to invite into your apartment. And besides, there’s decorations to think about, and maybe a present for Kuroo, and maybe it would be cute if you could get one of those places that rents out cats to send over a couple – do those places actually exist or was the whole thing just a stress-induced hallucination? Either way, the stress of budgeting is enough to make you understand why Kuroo had succumbed to his base capitalistic tendencies and become a business major. You’ll never be able to make fun of him for it again.

Kenma solves this problem readily enough, extending a credit card towards you with barely any hesitation when you mention it in passing.

“Stop stressing out,” he mutters. “It’ll be okay. Kuro’s not the kind who’d care about things like that.”

You blink at him. He determinedly avoids your eyes. “Kenma,” you say. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”

He sighs, setting down his game. “If you must.”

You launch yourself at him in a bone-crushing hug, and although you hear him click his tongue at you, you can also feel the way his hands come up to rest on your back, soft and steady. 

“He asked me if I’d seen you around recently,” Kenma mentions when you separate.

“What did you say?”

“Said you seemed busy. He said he hadn’t seen you and was worried he’d done something.”

There isn’t much to say back to that. You busy yourself by picking at one of the threads in your shirtsleeves.

Kenma says your name. 

“I know,” you say. “I know. I just – I don’t know.”

Kuroo has many smiles, you know. There’s the one when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, lazy and lean. There’s the one when he sees a cute animal or a small child or the old lady you always run into the market, the one that reminds him of his obaa-chan. There’s the one he gets when he sees you, sometimes, and doesn’t realize that you’re seeing him back, small and fond in a way that makes you a little afraid, sometimes. At the enormity of it. At how fragile it seems, some days. At what it could become, if given the chance.

And there’s the one he has when he’s playing volleyball, the one that makes his eyes go all squinty; the one that’s a little too large, just on this side of feral, because he’s so happy that he doesn’t remember to think about things like presentability and not scaring the people around him, both on his side and the other side of the net. The one he has when he hits a kill block, or a no-touch ace. 

You don’t think you could stand to take that from him.

“I’ve just been busy. With the party planning, and all,” you finish, meekly. You know he knows you’re lying. Still, Kenma doesn’t push.

“If you say so,” he hums, turning back to his computer. “It seemed like he missed you, though.”

You hate yourself for the small spark of want that blooms in your chest. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, in another life, could probably be yours. You’ve seen the way his ears turn red sometimes when you press a little too close, thighs close enough to be touching at one of the tables of your favorite izakaya. You know he knows your favorites the same way that he knows his own, know that in his head there’s a file of nothing but his knowledge about you, filled to bursting. You know that there are days, hours, moments where his touch lingers on your wrist, your cheek, the back of your arm – never long enough to presume, just long enough for you to notice.

In this life, you’ve seen the way he plays volleyball clearly enough to know that he loves it. That in terms of paths, this is probably the most natural one for him, as easy as breathing. That the world is so big and he deserves to go out and see it, that he’s growing up and some days you feel in your bones that he’s leaving you behind, in the same way that you’d left behind the yellow rubber rainboots you’d adored as a child, outgrown and overworn.

You busy yourself with party planning, so that at least everyone except Kuroo knows that you have a valid reason for ignoring him. Once the budgeting crisis is averted, things go surprisingly smoothly: money really does make the world go round, you think, in a rare moment of reflection between arguing with the caterer and double-checking that you have enough chairs in your apartment.

It’s good, to keep busy. Drowns out your heartbeat in your ears. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’re not gonna even ask him to stay.

The day of the party is bright and clear, because the universe loves Kuroo in the same way that you do. Bokuto – one of Kuroo’s teammates, and one of your favorites out of all of Kuroo’s teammates (although you’ve long maintained that it would be difficult for Bokuto not to be anyone’s favorite) – is tasked with distracting Kuroo for the day, then leading him to your apartment. This is a good plan because Bokuto is, himself, easily distractible, and Kuroo is, more often than not, perfectly willing to go along with Bokuto’s distractions. However, this is also a bad plan because Bokuto is, out of everyone you’ve invited, perhaps the second-most likely person to spoil the plans for the party. (The first being Lev Haiba, naturally.) To counterbalance that, you’ve asked Akaashi Keiji, one of your juniors, to go along – he has a natural talent for keeping Bokuto in check, more so than anyone you’ve ever met. But you’d feel bad, leaving Akaashi alone to deal with the two of them like that, so to ensure your plan had the greatest chance of success possible, you convince (read: bribed) Kenma to go along with the three of them. Odds are good that he won’t do much to curb Kuroo and Bokuto, but you’re willing to hope that his presence will keep Kuroo from doing something completely insane.

Back in your apartment, you’re adding the last finishing touches to the streamers hanging in the doorway. Yaku, next to you, squints at the streamers. “They’re a little crooked,” he says.

You bite back your immediate response, which is to tell him that if you had a stepladder tall enough that he could reach you’d gladly go get it for him so he could fix them himself. Instead, you ask, “How is it, over there, Yakkun?”

“In Russia?” he asks, and you nod. He pauses, considering. “It was rough, at first.”

“But you got through it,” you say, voice coming out a little more desperately than you’d like. “You like it there now.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It won’t ever be Japan, but I think I can make it home. And Kuroo’s always been able to land on his feet, wherever it goes. I don’t think you need to worry about him, even if he does decide to take the offer.”

“Of course he’s going to take the offer,” you say. “Why wouldn’t he –”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to read a text from Akaashi. Heading back, it says. Be there in three.

Hurriedly, you jam your phone back into your pocket. “Okay, everyone, places!” you call, watching with a critical eye as everyone tucks themselves away.

“Lev, that’s not gonna work. Hiding behind the lamp’s not gonna do much.”

“Idiot,” you hear someone – Yaku? – mutter, and you laugh a little despite yourself. Your phone buzzes again. In the elevator, you read, and hastily you dive underneath a table with one of Kuroo’s kouhai from high school – Fukunaga, you think – to hide yourself, just as you hear the sound of a key in a lock. 

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask you to take care of her plants,” Kuroo says as he steps through the door, sounding a little bemused. “I mean, I love you, bro, but I still haven’t forgotten what happened that one time –”

Three, two, one, you mouth silently, holding your fingers out where everyone can see them, then –

“Surprise!” you call out, stepping out of your hiding place. The others all scramble to follow, adding their own voices to the chorus.

It is, to your delight, one of the few times you’ve seen Kuroo properly surprised, enough that he actually staggers back a step, eyes wide. 

“What – how – when – what is this for?” he asks, directing his question to you, standing right in front of him.

“To say congratulations, Kuroo,” you reply. Suddenly your throat is a little dry. “On getting the offer.”

This time his eyes widen with realization – and maybe a little flash of guilt. He covers it quickly, though, and you’re left a little uncertain, like stepping on uneven ground. 

“So you didn’t actually ask Bokuto to take care of your plants,” he says instead, and you laugh. The sound is a little brittle in your ears.

“Of course not,” you say. “I haven’t forgotten that one time when he –”

“Did I mention we have cake?” Bokuto swoops in. “I picked out the flavor myself and everything. You gotta come see it. The lady at the store was so nice, though I don’t think she understand exactly what I was asking her to put on it at first –”

With a wry eye roll to you, Kuroo lets himself be dragged away. The rest of the partygoers take it as their sign to start mingling, and you let yourself fade into the chatter, becoming nothing more than background noise. It fits uncomfortably, now, where before it might have been a little more natural. Kuroo has always been good at creating space intentionally, whether it be for you or anyone else: a sly smirk for your eyes only, a joke directed towards you and you alone. It’s one of the reasons why you think everyone feels like they can fall into his orbit more effortlessly. 

Kenma appears by your side, unobtrusive as usual. “You should talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever you want.”

There is a want in your throat and it chokes you. I want you to stay. I know you should go. I’m terrified that I’ll never see you again, either way – if I made you stay and you resented it, if I let you leave and you loved it. 

“I’m worried that he’s getting bored here,” you say instead. “Like it’s not challenging him enough. Like he wants more.”

There are things that you’re willing to admit you can be slightly paranoid about: like putting too much of your heart on the table, like finding someone who loves all of you but the worst parts. Like loving someone and watching them start to resent you, like wanting to learn how to love in the right way but really only learning how to suffocate. And you know it’s possible that in this could be a combination of all those things, that rationally Kuroo knows better than anyone what’s his to keep and what’s his to give away. But you’ve known him for so long now, and there’s a part of you that likes to think you know him better than almost anyone in the world. It’s that part of you that insists you can see Kuroo Tetsurou getting tired, a little bit. He walks off the court with his head tilted back, eyes closed against the glaring lights on the gymnasium, far above. When he looms over the net, you think of it as less a state of being and more of a conscious action: a weary sigh. Another day at work. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, you think, is learning to want new things. To love new things. And that’s okay – that’s more than okay. There’s just a selfish part of you that wishes you could be there to see him through it. 

Kenma hasn’t said anything, staring at you patiently. You think you might throw up.

“I have to go,” you say, limp, and spin on your heel to slip out the back door. Somewhere behind you, Bokuto’s cheers rise above the din, followed by Kuroo’s cackling laugh. It makes your chest ache a little, but at the very least it provides you with some cover.

Your little apartment building stands at an intersection between two streets. Turn right and you’ll get to the park with the stray cats, the ones who’ve started coming around more frequently now that Kuroo has started showing up (now that Kuroo has started bringing them treats, although he denies it every time you bring it up.) Turn left and walk far enough and there’s a little embankment that slopes down to a river. Sometimes in the mornings joggers will pass through the area, but in the dead of the night like it is now the grassy slope is deserted. You sink down onto it, ignoring the way the cold sinks into your skin.

Part of you wants to cry. Most of you is glad you aren’t: can’t, maybe, or won’t. 

You tell yourself the grand lesson in this is that you have to be better at letting go. That there is a lot that your hands could hold – a lot that your hands could want to hold, given the time. Given the opportunity – but not all of it is meant to be held by you. That there is a whole world out there and tonight it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

Perhaps the grand lesson is just this: that loss exists. That wanting perseveres.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. You know without turning who it is, fingers tightening in the grass.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Can I sit?”

You wave a hand listlessly at the space beside you. “There’s space available.”

He settles in next to you, close enough that your thighs could brush if you were a little more careless, if you hadn’t been holding yourself strung tight and stiff.

“Why aren’t you in there?” you ask finally, when it becomes clear that he has no intention of saying anything, that he’s planning on waiting until you start first. “It’s your party.”

“Why aren’t you in there?” he counters. “You planned it.”

“It was a little loud,” you offer. “Was getting a little sleepy.”

“You weren’t there anymore,” he says. “Kenma said he saw you heading out.”

The words stick in the hollow of your throat, between your collarbones. You can feel them lodged there. “Kuroo,” you say, careful to not let your voice shake, “you can’t say things like that.”

There’s a hand on your knee, long fingers and broad palms spreading over your skin easily. His hand is warm. You direct your gaze down to it. His hand is big enough that it nearly covers your knee.

“Why not?”

“It’s not fair,” you say. “I know you’re not that stupid, Kuroo. You can’t go saying things like that when you’re about to leave.”

He says your name, sharp and soft.

“And of course I’m happy you’re going. I know you’re not happy – not as happy here as you could be. I know it’s an incredible opportunity. I know you deserve it, and you deserve every incredible thing that comes your way. Or at least – I want to be happy for you, Kuroo. I want to be able to give you that much, at least.”

He says your name again. It sounds fond enough that you gain the courage to look up at him. He’s looking right at you. The hand on your knee reaches for your jaw, instead, cradling it tenderly.

“I think I’m gonna stay,” he says. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about the offer earlier. I just – I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. I wasn’t even sure if I was, at first. But then I kept coming back to it – the fact that I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. Not at all, not even a possibility. It made me realize that – well. Russia would be incredible. But I think – I know – I would rather stay.”

The words take a moment to sort themselves out in your brain. Then:

“Kuroo, you can’t,” you choke out. “This is your dream.”

“It was,” he says. “For the longest time, it was. And I thought it was something I had to keep loving. Something that I had to pursue. Like I would be doing a disservice to the me I was when I was little, if I decided I didn’t want to follow the path I’ve wanted since I first started playing volleyball.”

You say nothing. There is a sun rising in your throat. You are afraid to let it go.

“But you know,” he says, thoughtful, “I think there is a difference between loving something and being in love with something.”

“Yeah?” you say. He reaches for your hand, flipping it over from where it rests in the grass so that your palm is facing upward. Slots his fingers through the gaps between your own.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing once, twice, three times. “Like – I love volleyball, you know.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“But I’m in love with it here. With Japan. With the connections I’ve made, with the people who keep me here.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because you are, selfishly so.

“And,” he says, hesitant in a way that you’ve only ever seen once before, back when he was just the boy with the awful laugh and the ugly hair and who kept getting you coffee and getting it wrong, “I’m in love with you.”

And the sun, blooming over the horizon.

[mlmxreader]

the cod fandom has a serious issue w saneism

I'm genuinely not joking. so many of you fuckers are guilty of being absolutely abhorrent towards people with personality, schizospec, psychotic, dissociative and trauma disorders and you need to stop before you genuinely harm someone. no, you're not "cute" for it - you're an ableist, nasty little cunt for it.

so, let's go through it a bit; I'm not gonna go in-depth, bc ik some of you lot won't take criticism w/o treating it as a personal attack, and ik a LOT of you don't actually give a shit abt hurting people either. but I'm gonna quickly cover some things that need addressing.

First and foremost: "delulu".

"delulu" is a term that's been shortened from "delusional" to essentially mean "I have a thought/opinion that few others have".

which isn't the correct way to actually use this term whatsoever; according to the correct definition, a delusion is stated to be "A delusion is a strongly-held or fixed false belief that conflicts with reality.", and an example of that would be (for example) if someone believed that their behaviour, thoughts and emotions were being controlled by the government or aliens. THAT is a delusion.

"Soap isn't dead uwu" is not. by using the word "delusion" colloquially and by using "delulu", you are minimising and misusing a term used solely meant for usage within the mental health field. it's not that hard to say "I have the opinion that-" or "I think that-", because what you're experiencing isn't a delusion. it's an opinion.

Secondly: "psychopath/sociopath".

"psychopath" and "sociopath" are widely misused and derogatory terms used often towards people with ASPD to portray them as violent, evil, etc. and within the cod fandom is often used as a derogatory term for villains like Makarov and Shepherd and Graves.

the terms themselves are wildly outdated and no longer used within the mental health field due to their derogatory and untrue definitions; "psychopath" and "sociopath" can ONLY be used by people with ASPD and other such disorders, otherwise, it does count as a slur.

if you cannot reclaim it, you cannot use it.

otherwise, you're only pushing and furthering stigmatisation and stereotypes that render it HARDER for people to seek help and support for their mental health.

Third: "schizo".

"schizo" is a fucking slur. end of. it is a slur against people with schizospec disorders. it's a slur, stop using it.

it's not cute and it isn't funny; the word is a slur, and if you cannot reclaim it then why are you using it if not to treat schizospec people as a fucking joke?

why is our mental health a joke to you when you would kick off if someone did the same to anxiety, or depression?

why is it okay to treat one disorder as a joke, why is it okay to treat schizospec people as if we're second class citizens?

Fourth: "psycho".

the same as above, "psycho" is a fucking slur. stop using it.

the word has a long, long history of being used in a derogatory, offensive and bigoted manner in order to portray someone as being violent, evil or otherwise terrible - "he's such a psycho!", "she's acting psycho!" - and yet, the cod fandom throws it around as if it means nothing despite the fact that one quick look will show that "psycho" is a slur and is as bad as calling someone a "faggot" as a slur.

Fifth: the treatment of Nikto

in recent weeks, Nikto has become sort of the "new" König - he's an object of desire and attraction, which... Sure, whatever.

but Nikto canonically has dissociative identity disorder, a mental health issue that is largely misunderstood and mistreated massively.

the fandom treats Nikto two ways: either his mental illness boils down to "uwu soft baby" disease, or it doesn't exist at all.

that is NOT how dissociative identity disorder works; by treating Nikto as if he's some completely innocent, infantilised, glamourised depiction of dissociative identity disorder, you are further perpetuating that it is NOT a serious disorder and it is NOT something to take seriously.

furthermore, by acting as if his mental health disorder doesn't exist AT ALL, you are also furthering that a character CANNOT be desirable, loved and attractive if he has any kind of mental health disorder.

how would you like it if someone treated anxiety or depression that way?

how would you feel if someone erased depression to make you an object of desire, instead of treating it with respect and decency?

it's not nice, is it?

so why do it at all?

conclusion

the cod fandom has a massive, massive issue with saneism and ableism, and it needs to stop because all you're doing is being shitty and bigoted towards marginalised people to the point where even something that's supposed to be FUN can't even be that anymore because people with these disorders have to CONSTANTLY be on guard and CONSTANTLY have to deal with stigmatisation and demonisation to the point where no one can be trusted outside of ourselves.

so stop it, have some fucking courtesy for your fellow man and have some respect and decency for once in your lives.

yes, you can reblog, but don't fucking derail.

[silvervinewine]

childe, tartaglia, ajax: a man of many names

↪ childe, noun, a young man of noble birth

childe, was the name you first knew him as. after all it was the name most used within the fatui. casual and pleasant, thats what you came to know him as. a real funny guy, could make friends anywhere, a one dimensional nice guy. yet as work conversations became private, and meetings became hangouts you came to know more of childe.

you were enjoying spending time with a harbinger, you knew he was. the 11th harbinger, a killing machine owned and controlled by the tsaritsa. yet as you store into his eyes, his coy grin and the way his freckles contorted when he laughed, you couldnt ever guess that who he was supposed to be.

~

"comrade i think we are heading the wrong way." , he grimaced looking at the run down alley in front of you.

you looked down at the map, and then at the alley ahead, "childe... based on instructions alone, i believe this is it."

and so you walked, close together weapons in hand. down a run down alley, in a gang ridden part of town.

"scared for your life are you?", you looked the other way but his tone implied a heavy grin.

you squinted your eyes trying to focus in the dark, "no? are you?"

"you know comrade, around these parts there are several snakes to be lurking around...", he paused cautiously, "their venom can kill 30 men in one minute."

you shivered, his comments were not helping with the mood.

"its dark, so it should be the prime time for snakes to search for prey," his voice sullen in tone, "and when you least expect them to... they strike at you and pierce your skin and you die terrifically!"

you felt something touching your leg and you jumped up, a meek scream coming out of your mouth. your eyes widened as you heard laughs, laughs... as you looked down in the complete darkness. but there was nothing and didn't see any snakes, but you definetly did see the boisterous face of your team member.

you were definetly going to kill him now.

↪ tartaglia, italian for stutterer, most commonly a "comedia dell'arte" character

"tartaglia, huh?" you punched him, a form of banter between you two, "how fancy of you."

he sighed a hand over his chest, "its a title, a badge of honor to my affiliation with the tsaritsa."

you could never understand him, "so much for the tsaritsa is it ?"

he furrowed his brows at you, "just because you don't understand my dedication, doesn't mean everyone does. i do it for myself foremost, for my country and for my family."

"its alright tarti, man its alright", you put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

his face changed colors and he clenched his fists while raising his voice, "hey don't you ever call me that, that is not ever okay!"

you could only smile at him.

~

tartaglia, a government name or a work alias. a more formal name, used within business transactions and deals. accompanied with the glamourous, "11th harbinger" title and being a title in its own right.

the name was dangerous, scary and frankly powerful. a name which invokes fear in the hearts of enemies, but you could never see him as such. so much for being a man of many faces, you werent going to deny his battle prowess, but you werent going to deny his good humour either.

he was a good man, a killing machine but a good man. being a family man, he talked of his siblings in a land far away. a good ally, being present in every meeting and leading with an iron fist. a good friend, a best friend, for everyone and especially for you.

↪ ajax, a strong and brave hero from greek myth

his name, his real name. only ever known to the people closest to him. few fallen friends, his family, the harbingers... that was the extent of who knew his name.

identities were a big deal within the fatui, you knew the fact and so did he. was it intentional ? the more you thought of it the more it drove you crazy. ajax, a semi common name in snezhnaya, but it meant so much more when you thought of ajax, your ajax.

did you even have a right to call him yours ? you didnt even know.

~

"you were looking for me ? ", ajax called amongst the crowd, sticking his hand out as you say him a few meters away from you.

the crowd was pushing and your time was ticking. your mission was due and your boat would leave. lateness was not rewarded within your line of work, and you were bound to be shipped off far away. far away, to a place where you wouldnt see him, you wouldnt tell him what you wanted, what you felt.

"yes! but its too late!", you were pushed and pulled and squished, but you made your way through, you had to.

"it didnt matter anyways, dont worry about it! get off me!" you bumped against someone.

"i know its late, i know everything's not the way i wanted it and i had everything planned out i promise, but-" ajax screamed out, "i love you, i-, hey back off!"

grunting and curses in a language you didnt understand was heard across a multitude as you digested, what was admitedly a surprise to you.

you felt two familiar arms grip your shoulder, as he pushed strangers out of the way. you looked at him as he did the same and you couldn't describe it but he looked beautiful.

you loved him, loved the way he smiled. tbe way he laughed when you teased him, the way his eyes lit up when he pulled a prank on you. in that moment his eyes looked like those of a man in love, his smile lines present in the soft smile he gave you. his freckles, his eyes, he looked gorgeous.

"i love you too, a..", it slipped out, slipped out when you least wanted it to. you could say so much more, but you couldn't, "lot actually."

he was right in front of you and he looked gorgeous, even more so when he put his forehead against yours and he rubbed your nose against his.

"you can send cards while youre away, i dont care. take pictures will you ?" his eyes softened and he looked you straight in the eyes.

the word spread and you could hear it, ten minutes until the last passanger could board. the crowd cleared and you could see him.

ajax, your ajax.

he raised your hand and he pressed a single kiss before looking at you warmly, "better leave you know."

you nodded quickly and he chuckled nervously, "so letters ?"

he nodded as he started walking away, "letters."

-

A/N: back after a pathetic year of not writing, haha hello ! not spelling checked, not peer read or anything. written at 12 am and im rawdogging this completely.