#And if that means defying the standards of normal

[alchemicalwerewolf]

first impression of you: kinda cringy no offence tbh

now: you’re like a big sibling (you’re also top in my notifs) and you’re pretty cool and supportive so uh yeah

I am cringe but I am free *music grows louder before something crashes* omg Mike are you ok!? Mike’s fine ignore that hahaha… (idk just ignore me lol)

I only know of one person on this site I’m older than but tbf a lot of people think I’m older than I am so meh. But yeah I’m really glad I can be here for you and be a source of comfort!

[empress-simps]

Close To Me

Pairing: Bodyguard! Marauders x Fem! Reader, Bodyguard! Sirius x Fem! Reader AU: Bodyguard AU / Muggle AU CW: Reader getting kidnapped. Sirius getting injured. Note: This might be the longest one shot I have written so far, this is also my first time writing an action-ish fic? So please do keep it in mind, some parts may be inaccurate.. I also published this at 12 midnight lol. Enjoy!(2.5k words)

You always thought it was a tad bit excessive.

Being the sole heir to a vast family fortune meant that you had the finest thing you could ever want in your life; it also meant that you had the finest protection. Your father handpicked every staff member that was assigned to protect and care for you- going as far as doing not just a background check on them, but also their entire family. Doing a bunch of psychology and loyalty tests were also a must so it was rest assured that they would do their job.

Having one bodyguard? Understandable. Two? Oh, alright just some precautions. Three? That sounds... very safe. Four? Now, that's where you draw the line.

Sure, being born with a golden spoon is great- wonderful, even; but you felt like you were trapped.

You wanted to live life like any other normal human being, away from assassination or kidnapping attempts that were made in your life. So, mustering up every courage you have, you stormed into your father’s study to try and persuade him to just at least assign one to watch over you.

It was expected, you failed.

Now you were stuck with four goofballs bodyguards who would protect you with their life.

James Potter- the strategist. He could sense danger from miles away and best believe that a safe escape plan for you was already formulated if ever things went south.

Remus Lupin- the mediator. He has the ability to appear calm and composed even in the face of danger. Remus saved you more than once just from his voice and words.

Peter Pettigrew- the tech wizard. He’s the one responsible for surveillance, turning any kind of technology into a means of protecting you.

And then there was Sirius Black, the jack of all trades. When your father chose the top candidate, it was him. He was an exceptionally skilled fighter, good with weapons, fast and light reflexes, can speak multiple languages (mainly French), and over all just a well-rounded protector.

Being born into a family with a long tradition and a reputation for producing some of the best security experts in the muggle world, Sirius stood out like a sore thumb. He was the black sheep who defied family expectations. His family's company, BlackGuard Security, was known for its merciless efficiency and rigid standards.

His abilities were evident. Succeeded in every training program he participated in, frequently outperforming his peers with fast thinking and adaptability. Your father noticed Sirius's unconventional approach to security and saw potential in his abilities. When he was assigned to be your bodyguard, he took it as an opportunity to show himself beyond the shadow of his family's legacy.

Sirius is your shadow. He’s never more than a few paces behind. But it wasn’t just duty that kept him so close; it’s the quiet and unspoken bond that had formed between you two throughout the years. A bond that went beyond the call of duty, beyond the formalities. Which he desperately tries to deny.

“Good morning, Remmy!”

You beamed, smiling as you opened the door of your bedroom to see the tall man standing outside, on watch.

It’s still a mystery to you how he looks so put together with his neat hair, suit, and the signature earpiece in his ear even though it’s still 7:00 in the morning.

“Good morning, Miss.” He smiles, closing the door behind you as you headed towards the grand staircase, Remus following a step behind.

“I rarely see you during mornings,” You comment, going down the stairs to grab breakfast.

“James had some matters to attend to, Miss.” He answered, offering a small and polite smile. You hummed, “It’s alright. I like your company, Remmy. Jamie can get a tad bit enthusiastic in mornings.” You laugh, as Remus looks at you.

“Don’t let him hear that or he might just throw a fit.” He chuckled.

“He’s James, it’s normal.” You grinned, seeing the familiar long black-haired guy talking quietly in his earpiece.

“Morning, Sirius!” You waved at him; his piercing grey eyes looked in your direction. “Good morning, Y/n.” he smiled, then went back to talking in his earpiece.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit bummed that you don’t have his undivided attention, Remus noticed this and raised his eyebrow, smiling to himself.

Taking a seat at the rather large dining table, you couldn't help but sigh. Remus decided to tease you a bit, "Were you expecting more from Padfoot?" He smiles, chuckling at the way you desperately try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"What?! No! I was just pre-occupied with other things!"

Remus doesn't believe it when your eyes wandered in the direction of Sirius who was still talking into the earpiece. "No prongs, she has an event she needs to attend in the evening." You heard him talking to what you can assume is James from the other line.

The scent of breakfast wafted through the air, making your stomach growl as the staff placed the dishes and arranged the silverware for you.

"Would you like some, Remmy?"

"No thank you, miss. I already ate."

As you ate a piece of your breakfast, you looked up to Remus. "Anything interesting stuff for today?"

"I'm afraid today will be quite normal, miss. Just a charity ball your family would attend hosted by the Malfoy family."

You frowned. It's not like you hate the Malfoys, you just don't like how they're trying to set you up with their son, Lucius Malfoy, when it was clear that he is infatuated with his mother's bodyguard- Narcissa Black.

"Do I really have to go?" You complained,

"Prongs already picked up your dress for later, Y/n." Sirius suddenly spoke up, and standing beside Remus. You huffed, already feeling tired.

“Maybe I’ll just sneak out again-“

“No can do, Y/n!” James appeared out of nowhere, his famous grin plastered on his face, Peter trailing behind him, tinkering with what seems to be a mini remote of some sort.

You crossed your arms, eyebrows raised. “And why would that be, Mr. Potter?”

“Because your escort would be Malfoy.” he grumbles, clearly not liking the idea and the dude.

“I beg your pardon?”

You tried not to roll your eyes, keyword, tried. Remus clears his throat, trying to mask his surprise. Sirius felt his eye twitch.

What if something happens at the ball? Sirius is the most capable one of protecting you from danger, sorrynotsorry.

“But!” James blurts, “We’d still attend the ball, not just that close to you.”

“Like that’s any better.”

James frowns, “Sorry. The Malfoys actually don’t even want us to attend and guard you. Your father insisted, telling them you won’t attend the ball without us.” He says, taking a seat beside you despite Remus’ warning glances directed at him.

“Just what do they want…?” Sirius mumbles to himself, already getting highly suspicious of Lucius and his family. (Not because of the fact that you’re about to get arranged to the Malfoy heir, no not at all.)

“They’re probably just annoyed, Lucius really can’t make a move on Y/n with us around.” James said, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping them onto his mouth, making you chuckle as you pushed the bowl closer to him.

“Alright, looking good Y/n!” James grinned, seeing you come down the grand staircase dressed in a red lavish gown with a gold accent.

Sirius felt his heart stop.

There was just something about you that makes his heart beat a little faster, time freezing, and the unusual flips his stomach did when he sees you.

Fuck— you were absolutely breathtaking.

You twirled, making your boys smile and compliment you, but Sirius just stood there, not reacting.

“Do I look presentable, Siri?”

You asked, trying to pass it off as a joke but they know damn well you were serious as you fiddled with a random lace in your dress. Not like Sirius noticed it, no, he was transfixed to your beauty.

“Beautiful.”

That was all you needed to hear.

“Mr. Malfoy, good evening.”

Lucius smiled slightly, taking your hand, and kissing it. “The night could not compare to your beauty, Y/n.”

It took every single fiber of Sirius’ being to not punch Lucius square in the face. How dare he flirt with you when he’s secretly dating his cousin?

You smiled politely, even though all you wanted to do is to stay a good couple of feet away from him. “You flatter me, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I am just stating facts, Y/n.” He offered his arm to you, “Shall we?”

Right. Might as well get over it.

Linking your arm with his, you nodded. “We shall.”

The boys instantly knew there was something off as soon as they stepped inside the venue.

James kept twisting the ring on his pinky finger, already thinking of numerous escape plans for different situations. Peter was on his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he checked and tries to figure out why he can't access some surveillance cameras in the venue. Sirius was on high alert, nothing could go unnoticed, he knows who approached you, how long you've spoken to them, the food that you consumed, and how that stupid Lucius kissed your hand, and interacted with you.

Remus also was alert, but one thing that made the alarms go off inside his head was the four suspicious men dressed in tuxedos quietly slipped inside the venue without getting noticed.

"Marauders, two o'clock. Four men, nearing darling's area quick." He told in the comms, eyes never leaving the four figures.

"Copy, Moony. Wormtail, any news?" Remus' earpiece was filled with James' voice. "Negative. Still trying to access." Out of the corner of his eye, Remus can see Sirius slowly inching to your direction. "Padfoot, do not engage. Wait it out." Remus heard James order Sirius, "I won't." he grunts.

That was when hell broke loose.

With lightning reflexes, one of the men pulled out a pistol and shot the large crystal chandelier causing it to fall and crash to the ground, breaking into thousands of tiny pieces. It was pure chaos, people were trying to rush out of the exits, chairs and tables were turned as they pushed through.

Sirius felt his blood run cold.

He was in autopilot, he dodged a panicked guest and leaped over fallen chairs, all while keeping his eyes on you. He cannot afford for the men to reach you before he does.

Luck was not on his side today.

He quickly closed the distance between both of you. He was your protector; he swore on his life he would protect you. Sirius would even sacrifice his life if it meant that you would be safe. He would do anything for you.

It was proven it wasn't enough when one of the men grabbed your arm, dragging you towards a hidden exit while Lucius Malfoy was escorted by the others.

"Fuck!" He yelled, as one of Malfoy's henchmen shot him in the shoulder to prevent him from going after you.

"Prongs! They have her!" They could all hear his anguished voice through the comms. Remus runs over to Sirius from where he was stationed, "Padfoot, you're injured-"

"I don't care!" He yells at his friend, "We need to fucking find her!"

"Wormtail, you better have the damn access already or I'll skin you alive!" Sirius barks angrily, talking to his comms as he fought the rest of the men with Remus helping him. "I'm in, but it's too late. They jammed the signals earlier and destroyed footages. Go to the exit, you'll see a motorbike on your left-" Sirius doesn't need to be told twice, he did what Peter told him and mounted the motorcycle, Remus quickly joining him.

"Can you see the black car ahead of you? That's them." Peter told him. Sirius was focusing on chasing the damn vehicle, so Remus answered on his behalf.

"Yeah, we're closing in. Prongs, what's your status?"

"Backsup are on their way, they'll be right behind you in 2 minutes."

Sirius felt the distant throb in his shoulder, the warm blood seeping through made his dress shirt clung onto him, but he paid it no mind.

"Keep your eyes on the road, Padfoot!" Remus reminds him as they narrowly missed an incoming truck. Sirius only nodded in reply as he grips the motorcycle tightly, weaving through the traffic and desperately trying to reach the speedy vehicle you're in.

"We're gaining on them!" Remus updates, seeing the familiar back up vehicles approaching, "Back up's near."

"Do not engage until the back ups arrive." James told them in a calm and commanding tone.

Of course.

Sirius will always be Sirius. When had he ever listened to Prongs' orders?

He is driven by his instinct, which is currently screaming at him to attack right then and there. As they neared an intersection, an opportunity was presented to him. He would be a fucking idiot to ignore it. With a calculated risk, he accelerated, effectively pulling alongside the car.

Remus sighs, already knowing his friend's thoughts and getting ready.

"Now, Moony!" Remus, who's on cue, leaned out and desperately tried to reach the car's door handle, and with a few tries, he managed to open it succesfully making him grapple with a man inside.

The car swerves, tires screeching but Sirius kept his pace. He can see you struggling with your captors, and he can hear the backup seconds away. He couldn't wait, every second counts, anything could happen.

"Hang on!" Sirius shouts, with a burst of speed, the backup cars sandwiched the car with you inside, forcing it to halt. Sirius and Remus dismounted the motorbike, guns drawn.

"It's either you release her, or I'll kill all of you and blondie." He growls, referring to Lucius Malfoy who is also inside the car.

The situation was tense, but the arrival of their team shifted the balance. The henchmen, overwhelmed and outgunned, let you go, their plan thwarted. Keeping the Malfoy Heir safe is their top priority.

Dust settled down, and the other staff handled the situation, wrapping it up. Sirius stormy grey eyes met yours in the midst of chaos. His shoulder stung, a reminder of the events that had happened tonight, although it paled in comparison to the concern etched in his face as he rushes to you.

"You're not hurt, are you?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he scanned your form. Your eyes found its way on his injury, "No, I'm alright. But Sirius, you're hurt."

Sirius exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and the world seems to slow down. "I'll live, darling. The important thing is that you're safe."

The sirens, flashing lights, and the buzz all seemed to fade out into the background as you stared into his eyes. Taking your hand in his, he placed it to his lips, pressing a kiss, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I was so afraid I'd lose you," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice unlike anything you'd heard before. Sirius hugged you tightly, feeling him press a kiss against your hair as you leaned to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"You'll never lose me. Never in a million years, how could you when you're always close to me?"

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor With A Figure Skater Reader

Request: I'm soooo excited that requests are open, they are always a little sliver of joy I can always revisit and smile at! Now if I may... how do you think the House of Feänor would react to the reader being a Figure Skater?? The way they glide across the ice in sparkling outfits and the way they spin and jump at dangerous and gravity defying heights and speeds with their partners is beautiful. – Anon

A/N: I tried my best to not sound repetitive because I felt like I was writing the reaction over and over again. Hope that wasn’t the case. Enjoy!

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Feanor

First of all, he’s making your skates once he learns that you’re a figure skater. Due to this, he would find the time to venture down to the frozen lakes during winter to watch you test them out.

This also means that he’s also observing all your routines wanting to ensure that your skates are up to standards to match the speed and all the jumps you tend to make. This does not prevent him from telling you to be careful every five seconds.

He would hate to learn that one of the skates he made for you wasn’t able to hold out during a routine and you injured yourself. On the plus side, you have a supporter who prefers to silently observe your flightless performance.

You make winters something he looks forward to because he gets to see you dance on the glittering frozen lake like some magical being.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

Another silent observer who sits on the snow banks and watches as you jump and spin effortlessly across the ice. Maedhros believes that you’re some fairy dancing across the ice.

He’s subconsciously wearing a smile when he sees how happy you are in your natural element, looking majestic and doing your thing on the ice. You’re figure skating is the one thing that makes the harsh winters bearable.

Seeing you glide across the ice without looking back and trusting your instinct, or how you leap into the air performing all your turns, you steal the air from his lungs. You once asked him to join and never before have you ever seen him reject an offer.

Knowing how much you enjoy skating during winter, he would meet with his blacksmith and have them fashion more ice skates in different colours should you ever need more.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Now this is a perfect combination of a dancer and a musician. With Maglor’s presence, no more creating or imagining music in your head. Simply request that he brings his harp or flute along, and you’ve got yourself a proper routine.

Maglor is more than pleased to add to your performance apart from observing since he doesn’t know anything about figure skating. He considers his musical contribution and act that brings you two closer.

You’ve once asked him to join you on the ice and immediately refused, believing that he could nowhere as near be graceful as you. As much as he wouldn’t mind being on the ice to pick up when you slipped, he knew more injures would be causes if he joined you.

He is content with playing his instruments and singing as you dance, or rather, glide effortlessly to the melody across the ice. Watching you perform brings lots of peace to his hectic life.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Look, this can go two ways; your way which is the peaceful and easy way, or the Celegorm way. That means interrupting your skating to show off his skills before crashing into a pile of snow.

Tyelko wants to be as graceful as you on the ice while causing you to crash when he decides to grab you for support first.

Whatever it is you’re doing, he’s attempting it, even if it results in broken bones. There is nothing that can stop him from participating; he wants to be involved like his life depended on it.

At least you have a great company and lots of humour. You’re basically teaching Tyelko how to ice skate for the first time, but he wants to forego all the basics and perform all your jumps and turns.

Huan normally has to stand on the sidelines in case he needs to pull Tyelko out of the snow or laugh at him because he’s nowhere as amazing as you. Huan makes it clear through his cheering as he barks loudly at your routine.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

He’s designing your wear as your skate so you can appear even more glamorous under the peaking sun as the ice glitters behind your feet, adding to the air of magnificence and majesty around you.

I’m serious. He’s down for tagging along while knitting or crocheting a new piece for you to wear while observing you glide across the ice. You’d probably have to drag him onto the ice because he’s more focused on making clothes.

At least you get him to cling to you even though he’s grumbling and holding back on cursing you out because his clothes would become wet from the number of times he’s already slipped.

Caranthir does become spellbound when you’re gauging to make a giant leap or your twirls, it’s one other time you can perfectly capture his attention away from designing your newest outfit.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Curufin

Like father like son, but it’s more science than anything else. Yes, he is observing your graceful patterns and movements, marvelling at the speeds you travel across the ice at without anything pulling you along.

When in truth, his brain is calculating every possible outcome of how you can glide so effortlessly without losing your balance. Teach him your sorcery. Jk, jk, but seriously, teach him how you don’t lose your balance on ice.

This way, you have managed to successfully drag Curufin onto the ice and teach him how to twirl and skate. Hopefully, once he gets the basics down and obtains his balance, you will have a partner who can hold you for simpler stunts.

While he isn’t going to attempt the more challenging routines like his daring older brother, he would nod his head along and inform you that you’re doing great even though he probably doesn’t know if it’s the right position or stance. He’s just happy to be included as you do your thing.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Amrod and Amras

Mischievous little minxes who would accompany you on the ice and skate across as effortlessly as you. They might even surprise you with a made-up routine on the spot, including you into the mix so they can toss you about.

I’m sure you all have matching outfits before the year is over, so every time winter comes, you three can put on a performance to show off for the family. The twins would also be the ones to turn your figure skating into a noteworthy performance that people can come view during winter.

Cue you all practicing in the house at 2am, spinning on flour and powder or tossing each other in the air outside. The high speeds and height you take off at don’t scare them because they’re encouraging you to go faster and make more turns.

Trust me, they become your coach, criticizing your positions and routine as if they’re masters in your field. Keep Huan around to have them in check so you can peacefully glide across the ice for fun.

At the same time, they are also your cheerleaders. The loudest in the area, whistling and clapping like seals as they show support for your latest routine or the same one you repeat every year.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

Like his father and grandfather, Tyelpë is no different in wanting to engage with you because SCIENCE is important. Like seriously, how are you able to balance so well on ice without falling on your ass. You appear as though you are flying!

While he isn’t interested in being taught a lesson on the ice, he wants to sit and spend the entire day observing how gracefully to fly across the lake, wind in your hair and smile on your face as you twirl and spin. His heart does race when you leap.

You scared him many times during your first performance when you leapt into the air and landed successfully. You never heard your name yelled so many times in one go.

He’s proud of you as well and it shows in his words and the number of ice skates you received. Part of him wants to show you off to others, but at the same time, he wants to keep your talent hidden so he alone can enjoy it.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @ladyenchanted @stormchaser819 @mcwentfandomtraveling @addaigio @hermaeuswhora @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life

[kuruk]

people on here sre so stupid about age gaps but lately in a different way than before. like for some reason people feel the need to make posts about how ridiculous and untrue it is to say 50 year old men who date 22 year olds are predatory, because sometimes it can be normal and it's "just" misogyny other times. What you mean is that it isn't pedophilic, but yes seeking out much younger woman is usually a predatory act. do you think men don't do this on purpose...? It's genuinely not just about beauty standards and vain preferences I'm sorry. They do that because they seek out complete dependence from you and have a desire to control and shape you into what they want. They look down on you and expect you to "respect" and "look up to" them. You can "defy" him and "obey" him and you can be "disrespectful" in a parent-child type of way. That's not abnormal for men to think like, it's very common and part of why young women appeal to many men. You're just too caught up on the word predatory because you think it means like pedophilia-adjacent like you've been using it before.. the "I love old men" mindset has simply made some of you defensive

[akazzzaa]

Hii ^_^ I love you're writing and I was wondering if you could write an Enmu x fem reader smut where reader has thicc thighs if you're comfortable doing that

Hello! Thank you for enjoying my writing, it means a lot

Summary- Enmu x Fem! Thick! Reader

Genre- SMUT

Warnings- NSFW content//MDNI//Obsession// Stalking//Mentions of blood// Cunnilingus// Body worship// Scent kink

A Dream Come True

Enmu loves your thick thighs, it's what caught his attention the most. A feature that seemed to defy the conventional standards of beauty and left an indelible mark on his twisted desires.

Enmu, usually consumed by a relentless thirst for blood, found himself entranced by the uniqueness of this mortal's physical form. This led him to observe you from the shadows, ensuring he remained unseen.

As the days went by, Enmu's fascination transformed into an obsession. In his twisted mind, he began to see them as a symbol of power and grace.

Unbeknownst to you, Enmu watched every move, studying the way you carried yourself and admiring the strength in your stride. He was drawn to you confidence, resilience, and the way you embraced your own body, thick thighs and all.

One night, unable to contain his desires any longer, Enmu decided to reveal himself. Instead of attacking like he normally would, he approached with an eerie calmness.

You where obviously startled by his sudden appearance and was ready to put up a fight, but Enmu didn't seek violence. Instead, he knelt before you. In his twisted way, he professed his admiration for your unique beauty, particularly fixating on your thighs. He spoke of how they symbolized strength and resilience to him, something he found both fascinating and alluring.

Initially sceptical and on guard, you listened as Enmu expressed himself. Enmu's twisted admiration, though unsettling, carried a strange sincerity.

Enmus hand reached up to grab your hips and pulled you closer to him and you willingly walked closer him. You never had a man so into your body before, and the worship of your figure felt really good. Enmu put his face in-between your crotch and inhaled deeply, '' You smell amazing-let me taste you, worship you, let me show you how beautiful you are'' You look down at him and nod and straight away he begins to pull your skirt up and licks your clit. His one hand had a mouth on it, and began to roam around your thighs as the mouth licked, kissed, and nibbled on your soft flesh. Emnu wanted to take a bite so bad but this is so much better. His other hand began to work his way to your ass to squeeze it. You could feel yourself coming close from him sucking on your clit.

''Holy shit- keep going im gonna c-cum''

Enmu moans into your pussy and keeps his pace needing you to cum in his mouth, your thighs clench around his head, threatening to crush his skull and he was going to loose it, he is finally where he's been dreaming off.

Only now he realised he was close to, his dick pressed up against his trousers creating a tension. You relentlessly grind into his face and moan as you come. He opens his mouth and sticks his tounge in your pussy, making sure he doesn't waste a drop of his hard work. He was like a starved man, and you were feeding him.

You try to catch your breath and hold onto Enmu for support as you come back from your high, '' Do you want to come on them?'' Enmu looks like he's going to pass out, his face beet red and he nods, standing up to face you and pulls his pants down to revel his cock.

You lift your skirt up and hold it giving you both a view of his dick sliding between your thighs. The cum and saliva making your thighs slippery for him to thrust and grind onto you. He was a whimpering mess, his head between you neck sucking on the drum of your pulse was to much for him and came all on your thighs, marking you as his.

''Sh-shit I didn't mean to cum that much'' He collapsed onto you, making you hold him in place so you both don't fall, ''its okay, I got you''

A/N- I have no idea how to write the ending of this or the aftercare : / My smut writing still needs work its just so awkward to write omg I hope its okay

[sparrow-ceiling]

OK SO CAN WE TALK ABOUT CHARLIE'S WEAPONS AND HER FINAL BATTLE DESIGN

ik i already made a whole post abt everyone's final battle designs (if you want to see it check under my hazbinposting tag, its literally just me gushing), BUT I wanted to make a new one for Charlie because UGH

OK. So her costume stays fairly the same throughout the battle, the cute little dress with the heart on the front, which is so real of her. I mentioned this in the other post also but I thought it was really cute how Charlie usually wears pants, and Vaggie usually wears a skirt, but it switches for the battle. Idk if that has any like. Metaphorical meaning but i think it's cute.

For the weapons, we start out the battle and we see Charlie with her shield. Which yes is a very Charlie thing to have: she's a very protective character, all she wants to do is keep her people safe.

But if you LOOK AT THE shield. GOD, look at the shield. First of all, it's so pretty. Everything in this show is so aesthetically pleasing guys. BUT. There are literally FOUR visual motifs on this shield, plus colors (which are mostly just the normal color palette, but also relate to her and her father). SHIELD MOTIFS. It has (1), the wings. She's angelic & she's powerful (since Angels are kind of a symbol of power and heirarchy.) She has angelic blood from her dad, it doesn't seem like she has actual wings, but she definitely does hav the power that is associated with those wings. The wings also might be a nod to Vaggie's wings.

The shield also (2), looks like an apple. It has the little leaf in the back, and the core in the middle. Lucifer DEFINITELY also has a lot of apple imagery, so that's something she gets from her dad, to, another nod to where her power comes from. We also have (3), the snake. This might be a bit of a stretch but I'm pretty sure that part around the core of the apple that goes down into a point is a snake, which is also associated with Lucifer. Most of the motifs on the shield are a nod to her dad, to her power and where she gets it from. Also beyond physical power, she gets emotional power from her dad. She looks up to him, idolizes him, and she gets confidence from her connection with him.

The fourth and probably-not-final thing that the sheild has is its shape. This was honestly the fist thing I noticed about the shield, and you can really see it well in the above image: the shield is in the shape of a heart. As a Stranger Things fan, of course I am partial to heart shields. Just like Mike, Charlie is the heart of her party. She's the strength, she's where the love and the joy and the connection comes from. Sir Pentious, for example, only gets heart motifs in his design once he gets his heaven redesign, but Charlie has heart motifs in her design from the minute she steps on the battlefield. Look at her dress. That heart, that love, is a part of her. Love is so intrinsic to her personality and to her character that she can defy hell which honestly. She's so real for that (Also can we talk about how she looks at Vaggie in these pictures. I would die for her.)

So Charlie's heart/wings/apple/snake shield is not only a show of power because of her connection with Lucifer (with snake and apple) and her angelic blood (with the wings), but it's also an expression of her personality (with the heart and the fact that it is a shield in the first place). Her character development kind of comes to a peak here: she's learned to be confident in herself while still being that kind, loving, wonderful, dreamy Charlie, and the shield emphasizes that so well.

BUT WAIT. This isn't just a Charlie's-shield-appreciation-post (although it could be.) She literally gets THREE outfits in one episode (standard, the one with the shield, and the post-magical-girl-transformation one)

After Pentious dies and she tranforms, her appearance and her weapon change. Her physical changes are her horns, the inverted, glowing eyes, the tail (with the little heart on it!!), and her hair coming untied (so magical girl of her, but also look at the shape language! She becomes angrier more violent, and instead of that typical, soft, round bubble ponytail, her let-down hair is full of angles, especially in the picture below). We've seen her demon form a couple of times previously in the series I believe, and it happens when she experiences severe emotion and/or wants to show her power, both of which are happening right now (Honestly I love how it shows how much she loves Pentious. She's so sweet and I love her. He means so much to her.) HOWEVER, her physical appareance isn't the only thing that changes after her magical girl transformation. She also has (surprise, surprise), a new weapon!!!!

The trident doesn't have as many strong motifs in it as the shield did, but it's still fuckin. Crazy. So first and second of all we have the apple and the snake, which repeat from the shield, and still represent Charlie's power that she gets from her dad. The third thing about the trident is color scheme: The shield was red, gold, and white, will the trident introduces another color to the mix: black. I dunno what to say about this, but it's interesting to note. Something something her emotions get darker? There's probably a way to read into it but idk. lmk if anyone has thoughts on it.

Although there is the addition of the heart on Charlie's tail, this stage of her design also loses the heart on her weapon. Similar to the addition of black, this probably represents the darker turn in her design and emotion, and the darker turn in the battle. She's not completely out for love (haha see what I did there) anymore, she's also out for revenge (as an extension of love, but what she's really feeling and fighting from right now is anger, as opposed to the joy/hope/love from the start of the battle).

Anyway, the fifth and final thing about the trident is that it's no longer a defense weapon, like the shield was, it's now an attack weapon (also a very similar on to Vaggie's, which could be another nod to her). We also notice this in her demeanor! As opposed to the repeated sorries from before her tranformation, Charlie is now unapologetically violent. She charges right into the battle with Adam. She's no longer just trying to defend to protect (shield) her people, now she's going with the whole best-defense-is-a-good-offense ideology. She's on the offense in order to protect her people.

That's why I enjoy Charlie's character design and weapons in this episode so much. There are so many layers to it and UGH. THANK YOU for listening to me ramble, and lmk if you have any more thoughts on this because I would LOVE to hear them! As you can see I am totally normal about this show.

[shootybangbang]

The Upsides of Property Damage [Part 4/5]

Authored by @verai-marcel and @shootybangbang

[Ao3 link]

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Mature

[Content Advisory]: light D/S undertones

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[Author's Note]: Thank you guys so, so much for your patience, and so sorry for the delay! Most of chapter 5 has been completed and should be out soon. If you want to be notified when that comes out, go ahead and leave a comment down below and I'll make a taglist or something.

--------

The maintenance request form states: [Please give a brief description of the problem.]

for the past few days i've been so fixated on fucking the maintenance man that i've been having difficulty accomplishing basic tasks because every time i try to concentrate on anything even remotely meaningful all i can think about is him saying "maybe you just enjoy my company" and if this keeps up i'm fairly certain that i'm going to actually get fired from my job so clearly i need to either get laid or get evicted

This statement makes you look certifiably insane. It’s not even a request– it’s a confession . Sending this would be tantamount to seating yourself beside the grated window of a church booth and asking its captive priest whether he’d prefer you spit or swallow.

More importantly, it also exceeds the text box’s 250 character limit. You rapidly tap the delete key until the entire obscene paragraph disappears. Then you try again. 

broken cabinet.

Hmm. Lacks an element of genuine contrition.

broken cabinet. sorry. :’(

[Your service request has been logged. Please allow up to one standard business day for a response.]

You glance at the time displayed on the microwave’s grease-spattered screen. 4:36PM. Morgan’s probably already packed up for the day– and taking normal operating hours into account, the earliest he could possibly show up tomorrow would be 9AM… which gives you at least sixteen hours to emotionally prepare yourself to confront him.

Morosely, you drag yourself out of your kitchen chair to pour yourself a glass of sparkling water. So this is what I’ve sunk to . Using service requests as a means of personal summons for the hot repairman. Pathetic. Shameful. And 100% necessary for the preservation of your sanity.

How many times have you pictured it now? Morgan, cornering you against the wall and wrapping his hand around your jaw… Or maybe , he’d rumble, caressing your lower lip with his thumb. You just enjoy my company . Then he’d fuck you silly, of course, in a series of lurid positions that grow increasingly obscene with each imagining.

And how many times have you pictured its inverse? Morgan, backing away in response to your hypothetical advance, his face contorted with faint disgust as he asks, “You know I was just joking, right?” Following which you’d get written up for sexual harassment by the leasing office and put on… housing probation, or something.

Being humiliated, you can handle. Albeit not very well— but you’re usually able to stay at least semi-functional. The same goes for flirtation. It’s this hopeless vacillation between the two possibilities that drives you out of your mind. Schrodinger’s boner: simultaneously fucked and unfucked. And like that quantum superposition, you’ve been plunged into a private hell of uncertainty until your reality can settle definitively on one or the other.

This has been predictably bad for your job performance. Earlier today, you’d accidentally deleted two entire spreadsheets of data whilst lost in competing visions of fornication and abject rejection, and then constructed a pivot table so incomprehensible that one of your colleagues had personally reached out to ask whether you’d recently experienced head trauma. 

God. At this point, you really have no choice but to put the question to him directly. Plain and simple. Just a quick “are you hitting on me” and it’ll all be–

Your thoughts are interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. 

Huh. Looks like Defying Your Blue Collar Dom is getting delivered a day early? It’s unusual for Amazon to leave packages at your doorstep instead of in the lobby, but it does happen, so…

…Oh.

It’s Morgan. What the fuck.

“But you were supposed to come tomorrow ,” you blurt, eyes wide with panic.

“That so?” Morgan asks, one eyebrow raised. He glances sidelong to the empty hallway, and shifts his weight uneasily from one leg to the other. With a shrug, he squares up his shoulders and turns back towards the stairwell. “Later, then.”

Shit. This is all going wrong. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I– I, uh…I’m… ”

He allows your stammer to run its course into awkward silence. Then the corner of his mouth angles upwards in a sly smile and he asks, “Or d’you need a minute to put away anything else your ‘friend’ mighta left out? I can wait.”

Somewhere in the realm of missed quips, there probably exists a clever response to this. Somewhere that is decidedly not here. “No,” you reply in a small, pained voice. “She, uh– she hasn’t been around, so… y’know…”

The sentence unspools like loose yarn. Jesus Christ, this is stupid.

“You alright?” Morgan asks, frowning down at you from where he stands. “You ain’t normally this incoherent.”

His comment implies that you’ve been operating thus far on an existing, baseline level of incoherence. Biting back the urge to query exactly what that looks like, you reply with a clipped, terse, “I’m fine.”

As you lead him towards your kitchen, you nearly trip over the half-packed suitcase parked beside the door. At this, Morgan again voices his concern. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this on edge before. Something botherin’ you?”

Yes , you think to yourself. My libido.

“Or is it some one that’s botherin’ you?”

He says the words with such a darkly implicative undertone that you actually turn around to stare at him, disarmed by the sudden shift. The warmth in his eyes has gone out like a blown candle. “Is it one of the other maintenance men?” he asks, and the whisper of lethality in his countenance surfaces so quickly that it speaks to a kind of practiced efficiency. 

A mingled thrill of fear and intrigue runs up your spine, and you swallow hard.

“If one of ‘em’s harassin’ you— if anyone’s harassin’ you…” he says these words with slow deliberation, while curling his free hand into a fist, thumb tucked over his folded fingers in that characteristic manner of boxers and street brawlers alike, and god if he were anyone else you’d likely be shrinking against the wall in terror right now. “Then you come tell me. And I’ll handle it.”

You have a sneaking suspicion that his method of conflict resolution involves grievous bodily injury. “Nobody’s bothering me,” you reply. Then, because he still looks vaguely homicidal, you follow up quickly with, “Just had an off day.”

This placates him somewhat. The tension diminishes like a rope going slack, and you realize with a hot pang of humiliation that your underwear is slick with arousal.

It’s not until he’s crouched in front of your broken cabinet, which stands ajar with its wooden door peaked at a 45 degree angle, that you finally work up the nerve to confront him. “So. Morgan.” You lean against the edge of your kitchen countertop like the faux marble might offer you emotional support. “There’s, uh. Something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

He’s sorting through his tool kit and doesn’t lift his head. Picks through an array of silver chiseled pieces so deftly that you can’t help but wonder what else those hands might be clever at. “Yeah?’ he asks, selecting a screwdriver head. He slips it into the drill chuck, twisting it tight.

“Are you, um…”

Fuck. You can’t say it. Your mouth literally refuses to shape itself to the words. Instead, you hear yourself ask, “Are you thirsty? You want some seltzer?”

Morgan blinks, then turns to you looking predictably baffled. “That’s… what you’ve been wantin’ to ask me? Whether or not I’m thirsty?”

“Yes,” you reply weakly.

For once, it’s him who’s been caught off guard. “I– uh. Sure, I guess.”

He takes his drill and begins to remove the damaged hinge. Taking the door leaf and flipping it this way and that, he examines the damage.

The crack of aluminum when you pull back the can’s metal tab and the responding fizz of compressed air sounds a little like a rebuke. Scathingly, it hisses: what the hell are you doing?

I have no idea , you admit, pouring the can of sparkling water into a clean glass. You pass it over to Morgan after he presses the trigger on the drill twice and sets it on the countertop. He gulps down an absent mouthful, then immediately stands up to spit it in your sink.

Oh. He hates it.

Your voice is thin as a reed. “I guess you’re not a fan of sparkling grapefruit, huh?”

“It’s…” With the duty-bound reluctance of a dog given a loathed order, he takes another, tentative sip, and forces himself to swallow. “It’s fine.”

It is clearly not fine. “Do you, uh. Do you want a beer?”

“What, you encouragin’ me to drink on the job?”

You open the fridge. Good god, you might as well partake too. It’s not like you’re in any state to get any work done, stuck as you are in this miserable limbo . “In any case, I’m gonna have one. And I’m still on the clock.”

“Alright.” He sounds like he’s smiling. “So long as you’re complicit, why not?”

You end up downing half a bottle of 8% oatmeal stout in about three sips, then stand around blankly waiting for the roil of anxiety to abate. You’d attempt the precarious endeavor of small talk were it not for the fact that the only thing you can think of right now is “grapefruit”. Not the concept of grapefruit. Just the word “grapefruit”. This must be how computers feel when they spit out the same, continuous error message.

Mercifully, he intervenes. “You goin’ on vacation somewhere? Saw that suitcase by your door.”

“Catsitting,” you say.

“’…s’cuse me?”

“Catsitting. Like… babysitting. But for a cat,” you explain. “My friend’s going to Vegas the day after tomorrow, and her cat has anxiety.”

“Cats can get anxiety?”

“This cat takes cat Xanax . His name is Sebastian, and he’s the most neurotic animal I’ve ever met.” 

Morgan asks, “Yourself included?”

You make a noise that bears no resemblance to any word in the English language.

He chuckles. “Well, go on, tell me how neurotic he is.”

Thank fucking christ, the alcohol is finally beginning to course its way through your blood. Your tongue loosens enough to tell him how poor Sebastian had spent nearly an entire day curled up under your friend’s bed the first time you’d tried to take care of him, how you’d ended up driving to the grocery on a Sunday morning to scour the shelves for the most pungent can of sardines they had in stock, and how only then , with the room saturated in fish fumes, had the cat finally dragged itself out of the boxspring to nose curiously at your offering.

Morgan laughs. A good sign, you think. “That’s nothin’,” he says, and describes to you his boss’ cat: a purebred white Persian appropriately dubbed “The Count”, so thoroughly spoiled that she won’t eat the same meal twice in a row.

You snort at the image of a prissy little fluff ball turning her nose at a gourmet cat meal.

“Though it’s funny, I never took you for a cat person,” he says.

“No?”

“Figured you’d prefer snails.”

“Look, snails… snails are…” This is a sentence you started with absolutely no knowledge of how it should end. “I like snails,” you say lamely.

“Oh yeah? Think I remember somethin’ else that you like.” He puts his hand around his jaw and pretends to look thoughtful. “What was that book called again? Somethin’ about… bein’ punished by blue collar doms?”

“I’m sure that my friend who left her book on blue collar doms here very much enjoys them, if that’s what you’re referencing.”

He merely chuckles indulgently as he continues to fix the cabinet. You watch his muscles flex under his shirt as he drills new holes into the wood and sets the new hinge in place. As he works the power tool with a soft grunt, you find yourself idly wondering if he’d make the same sound as he drills you —

“Y’know,” he comments, stepping back as he tests the alignment of the door. “I’m actually kind of impressed. This is the most work I’ve ever had to do for a single apartment, barring natural disasters.”

“Wow. Comparing a girl to a natural disaster. Are you this charming with all the tenants, Mr Morgan?”

“You gonna be jealous if I say ‘yes’?”

The alcohol makes you honest. “Extremely.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He grabs the edge of the kitchen counter and hauls himself back to his feet. “If this is the amount of property damage you cause normally, then I’d hate to see you angry.”

He takes another step forward. You take a step back reflexively, but find yourself pressed against the wall. He leans his forearm against the drywall and he’s close enough now that you can smell sweat and machine oil. Your heart beats hard in your chest. 

For once you’re lost for words. No quip comes to mind, for your brain is emitting sparks. “I, uh– I’m not–”

“You’re not what, exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” you say weakly.

He raises his hand to your jaw, tips your chin up with two fingers. “The answer’s ‘no’, by the way,” he says quietly. “It’s just you.”

Morgan looks like he’s going to kiss you. The expression on his face is softer than you’ve ever seen it, all his gruffness melted away. You tentatively tug at the fabric of his jumpsuit and stand on your toes to–

But he puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you back down. “Goddamn,” he says, frowning. “You’re really red.”

Huh. What.

“Listen, I ain’t one for takin’ advantage of drunks, even if they got themselves into this mess.” He picks you up as if you weigh nothing at all and sets you down on the couch. “Now, I’m goin’ to get you some water, and yer goin’ to sit here and sober up while I finish this cabinet. Alright?”

“I’m not even that drunk,” you protest loudly.

“Yer about the color of a fire hydrant right now.”

When you press the back of your hand to your cheeks and forehead, your skin feels feverish. Begrudgingly, you sink down into your couch cushions and cross your arms.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, patting your head affectionately.

***

You slouch on your friend’s comfy couch with Sebastian sitting regally in your lap as if you were his loyal subject.

“Hey Sebastian, I think I did something really stupid.”

Sebastian stretches and yawns. 

“I hit on the maintenance man.”

He meows. It sounds almost disapproving. Even the cat is judging you. 

“It gets worse.” You loll your chin downwards until it touches your chest. “I was sloppy drunk.”

Sebastian tilts his head at you and blinks.

“Okay, one bottle drunk.”

He sniffs haughtily.

“Right? Pathetic, I know.” You move to pick up Sebastian, but he begins to arch his back and you stop, leaning back against the cushions again. He relaxes and maintains his regal position.

“Well, maybe YouTube will keep my mind off him for the next two days…”

***

You return from your friend’s place, having used her cat and your friend’s YouTube Premium as your therapy sessions. You feel better about things now, and life should return to normal. Right?

The washer’s inner mechanism gives a promising rattle as it swallows your last six quarters. There’s a low rumble of moving parts, the click of something slotting into place— and then silence. The drum of the machine sits sedately in place. Your dirty clothes sit inside in a quiet, unsoaked heap.

“Son of a bitch,” you mutter under your breath. 

You try out a couple different methods: Turn the knobs to various settings without success. Jiggle the handle to try and unlock the washer door. Yell at the machine, call it a worthless piece of shit.

But where discourse fails, violence often prevails. It’s a lesson that has offered a decent measure of success in your dealings with vending machines, keurigs, and lawnmowers. So it’s not merely anger that guides you to kick the washer. No, this is… this is a strategic use of force.

The first kick yields no results. The second kick produces an interesting sputter. Perhaps , you reason, a more precise method is needed here . You raise your fist.

Before you can punch the machine, someone grabs you by the wrist.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Morgan asks, exasperated.

“Laundry,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“What part of laundry involves fightin’ inanimate objects?”

“The part where I get this piece of shit to finally work.” You attempt to give the washer a last parting shot out of pure anti-machine sentiment with your other hand.

Before you can continue to perform percussive maintenance, he grabs your other wrist too.

You tug on both your arms, but he is ridiculously solid; it’s like trying to break free of handcuffs.

Of course my mind goes there.

Looking up at him, he’s realizing at the same time as you of how suggestive this looks. His eyes widen a bit, and you take that as a look of surprise and embarrassment. Yet neither of you moves for a full minute.

“Well,” you say finally. “Are you gonna let me go? Or are you gonna make me submit?”

His eyes narrow for a moment before a smirk slowly grows on his face. “Sounds like that’s what you want.”

He pulls you away from the machine and instead pushes you up against the closest wall. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin linen of your sundress. He traps your wrists against the cold surface and presses his whole body against yours. 

“Mr Morgan—”

“It’s Arthur,” he interrupts. “Call me Arthur.”

You whisper his name, beckoning. His expression darkens ever so slightly as his desire for you manifests in a slight twitch of his lips, a crinkling of his brow.

Then he kisses you hard, his tongue lashing against yours before lightly nipping your bottom lip. When he pulls back, his lips are wet and his pupils are blown out with desire.

Letting go of your wrists, he reaches for the hem of your sundress and hikes it up, his calloused hands stroking upwards from your thighs to your hips. He shifts his knee between your legs and nudges them apart before grinding against you. You can feel how hard he is, how big he is, and you moan softly. Burying his head between your neck and shoulder, he begins to suck on the delicate skin there—

The door creaks open. Mrs. Smith, the septuagenarian from down the hall, walks into the doorway with a hamper of laundry in her arms, then pauses when she sees the two of you.

For a second, everyone stands tense and still as participants in a shootout.

“Well,” Mrs. Smith says mildly. She doesn’t look surprised or scandalized. If anything, she looks mildly entertained. “I can see you two are busy. I’ll come back in an hour or so—”

“No! It’s fine,” you say before laughing nervously. You yank your skirt back down. Arthur immediately releases you and begins intensely inspecting the washing machine. “I was actually just leaving. This, uh, this machine’s broken.”

Morgan’s face is red as he makes a noise of confirmation and nods.

“That certainly seemed a novel means of repair,” Mrs. Smith says. The smile on her face is benign, but knowing.

“Anyway!” You pick up your empty laundry basket. “I really must get back. I have a…that is, I… I think I left my oven on.”

You barrel out the door, nearly knocking Mrs. Smith over in your escape. You run down three flights of stairs and into your apartment, slamming the door shut. Marching to your couch, you put a pillow over your face and scream .

***

Watching her leave, Arthur stands in shock at first, then glances over at Mrs. Smith and turns himself towards one of the washing machines, examining it with great focus.

A soft chuckle reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at the old lady, steadily pulling out one piece of laundry at a time from another machine. Under the pretense of examining all the machines, he notes that she also slowly and methodically loads the dryer.

“You should just go after her,” she says quietly, throwing a pair of large pink underpants into the dryer. “She’s a nice one, that girl.”

Arthur can only mutter, “I got work to do.”

“Come now, we both know that’s a lie.”

He sighs. It’s bad enough that John is on his case, but now 705 is giving him grief. 

“Do you like her?”

He’s silent. He does not want to be having this conversation.

“Because a girl as pretty as her…”

“I know, I know,” Arthur grumbles. “I’m goin’.”

As he walks past her, Mrs. Smith grins knowingly.

[harpagornis]

MTG Analysis: LGBT and the color pie

So this is something a bit out of left field since its not Pride Month but I felt like writting this so sue me.

MTG has had a long history with LGBT topics and characters, from Xantcha from the early days to an explosion of LGBT characters in recent years. Officially, homophobia doesn’t exist in the Multiverse (I call bull if you’re familiar with older canon) and that’s fine and dandy, not everyone needs bigotry in their escapism.

However, I like to keep things real, and the matter of fact is that the color pie is philosophical. So I though it’d be fun to see how the colours interact and react to LGBT topics.

White

White I think is the easiest to depict as homophobic/transphobic. After all, real world religions and politics have persecuted LGBT individuals, and White is all about marginalising the outgroup, imposing restrictions on community and using faith as means to dictate one’s life. Conversely, White is also likely to be shown as an ally, since it often also fights for the meek and vulnerable.

An interesting way to depict White in this regard is the different double standards it may have. For example, in some real world cultures trans individuals are accepted because they’re seen as a way to enforce gender roles, while non-binary or gay individuals are shunned because they dismantle gender roles. Conversely, homosexuality may be seen as means to reinforce military bonds, which plays in White’s love of community + militarization.

Overall, because White often governs over society and factions I think there’s a real potential for worldbuilding.

Blue

On the surface, Blue can appear as rather accepting since it believes in reason and science. Its philosophy of one being able to do anything one desires to improve oneself also plays well into accepting trans people. I don’t think there’s a coincidence that the two first non-binary planeswalkers are Blue aligned; one even defied fate for crying out loud!

However, Blue’s belief in tabula rasa also means that it doesn’t believe anything is inherent. Therefore, Blue is the most likely to believe in conversion therapy. Worse, given Blue’s factions penchant for amoral science it is the color most likely to dispense “cures” for homosexuality and make straight designer babies.

In conclusion, Blue’s allyship is highly dependent on what it feels self-improvement entails. On a good day, it rallies for LGBT rights. On a bad day, it makes White look reasonable in comparison.

Black

Black, being the colour of individuality and giving the middle finger to societal norms, is most accepting of all letters of LGBT. This comes with a big caveat, however: it is focused on the individual foremost. So if going to a pride parade displays one’s power and charisma, it will do so. If being a closeted bigoted politician provides that, it will be so. Black has no morals or obligations, why should it care if it can be a hypocrite or profit off pride?

A very fairweather ally, but a staunch supporter especially to spite bigotry.

Red

Red is the colour of freedom and self-expression. It has no patience for those tearing others down in the name of society and laws. Naturally, I think it’s a no-brainer that it is the most LGBT positive colour. It loves who it loves and indentifies as it identifies, and unlike Black it has a sense of empathy and a healthy dose of disregard for authorithy in any way shape or form. And its always down to experiment!

That said, I can see some violently homophobic characters being partly-Red aligned, with some other color to provide reasons as to why Red’s normal love of self-expression is restricted.

Green

Green, like White, is a double edged sword. It fundamentally believes in fate, tradition and genetics; on one hand, it can decry such things as “unnatural”, but on the other it can be supportive, especially if it sees such things as “always meant to be”. Unlike Blue, it believes things are inherent, so it is less likely to believe in “cures”. This in particular is why its dichotomy differs from White, as unlike it Green derives its beliefs from philosophical concepts rather than morality.

It’s opinions on trans topics in particular can be pretty interesting: does it see an individual’s body as the natural truth, or the soul? Loreley Writes once wrote a post I can’t find that Green magic could theoretically work with a person’s own identity to modify the flesh; that’d be a cool use of biomancy if made canon.

So in conclusion

I respect WOTC for not wanting to deal with topics that could backfire horribly, but I just can’t help myself!

[m4rs-ex3]

✨ rayllum ✨

whaddya want from me i have to talk about it rn. aaaaaaaaaaaaa🫶🫶🫶🫶 boundaries. trust. FINGERGUNS. they. them. my pronouns are they because i'll never be them. callum is done wasting time being mad and is now devoting all of his time remembering and/or discovering HOW MUCH HE LOVES THIS GIRL UGH 💕💞💖💗💞💕💖💝💝💘💖💓 he is the sweetest fucking thing rn oml he can see now that she will always be there for him and he wants her to know and im normal. aside from the core developments of their relationship omfg we were SERVED. the banter, the softness, the absolute bestie(+) behavior. let's review:

(e1) "practical? like what ; :)" that is the flirtiest fuckin face ive ever seen

"yes. you. uh.. rayla."

"i was lookin for you! uh.. callum." HIS FACEEEE HIS WIDDLE SMILE

"i can see that. let her go." ZERO hesitation. also mad foreshadowing

"she broke into the high mage's office." "no that's crazy. she can go in there any time she wants." UGH i expected a "no that's crazy she would never do that" but he's straight up like 'whats mine is urs bbg" 😭✋

"the elf stole it." oh.. ok his face doesn't look too happy there i wonder if "shes not 'the elf.' she's rayla." OH FUCK ME THEN

"and she was hiding a weapon" "so what? she always is?" IM SCREAMING I LOVE THEM SM

it doesn't even seem that for a second he was perturbed about rayla having the murder weapon, more so that he was looking straight at the murder weapon. she's always been in the clear 🫡

"if she didn't tell me... she has a good reason." THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS-- iiis getting its own post.

"it means i trust her. unconditionally." brb dying happy

his face when she unchained herself god he loves his non-law-abiding girlfriend

"you don't have to explain or justify anything to me. you can tell me when you're ready :)" what can i even say at this point

(e2) "well i'm glad you liked it :)" kill me now

"and now... here we are," there it is he still sees them as one unit, defying all odds and persevering all circumstances oh me oh my

stargazing obvi

(e3) RAYLA IN CALLUM'S DOODLE. HE DIDN'T HAVE TO ADD HER IN THERE YET THERE SHE IS LOOKING ADORABLE

"she can't stop us." "nobody can >:)" "so we're going to lux aurea right? ; :)" "too right we are >:)>:)>:)>:)"

their chaos <3

(e4) rayllum montage my beloved THAT MUSIC

if you guys have been weird please show me normal

"rayla, we've been through a lot, and a lot has changed, ah- um, well, some things have changed, but not.. everything. uh... i would do anything for you."

i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i would do anything for you i wo

this is not fucking real what the fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

they are The standard

i've seen a lot of ships in my day way too many perhaps but no one compares

he's so patient and respectful w her 😭 the way he just gently holds out his hands

she fully emphasized that freeing them wasn't her priority and yet just ZERO hesitation callum saw his girl in distress and dropped everything no second thought required

THE HAND HOLDDDD THAT WAS SO SOFT

HE WAS SO FRICKEN EXCITED TO HELP HER

about to die and only one priority mhm

THUMB RUB THUMB RUB THUMB RUB THUMB RUB THUMB RUB THUMB RUB THUMB RUB

"i waited too long" i am so absolutely insane feral indignant

"i hope you know-" "i know."

bury me

(e5) fist bump. thats it im done im gone oh m !!!!! FIST !!! BUMP !!!!! YOU ABSOLUTE DORKS YOU <3<3<3<3<3

i am weak and the water scene is literally my favorite

he IMMEDIATELY knows shes uncomfy

AND he waits for her

"i don't think i'm comfortable pushing- hey!" "see? i pushed you first! pushing is easy!"

12:06 ish that glance downward tho 👀

the hand snatch of the century. her face. his face. that squeeze. "together." that ttm parallel.

HE HELD HER HAND THE ENTIRE TIME 😭😭😭💗

"-the entire world would be in danger-" IM SORRY BUT HE LOOKED STRAIGHT. AT HER. THAT LOOK KILL ME

"an amulet. or, uh, is it a talisman? what's the difference?" HER SWEET LIL GIGGLE (might just be the last sweet moment i have to report on)

beginning o e7 they're standing together on deck what happened all last night i need to know

her catching him when he collapsed :') and holding him up the rest of the time

"LET HIM GO!"

so e8 🙂

so

e

8

🙂

female rage has nothing on callum.

5 seasons. so many characters. so many losses. we have never seen this much emotion from anyone. i can hardly joke right now but he really embodied "don't you just wanna go apeshit?" i consume so much fucking media and this is new even for me. callum has never even had a temper. through all of this--getting kidnapped, abused, mentally and physically, seeing what his friends are going through--he hasn't broke. and then, seeing his biggest fear, the thing he's been plagued with for years, the thing we've seen him throw away his life to prevent, comes true, and he loses it. the scream, grunt & inhale, the speed, the aggression, the fucking expression. it's not hard to see how what happened next happened, i'm surprised he didn't do worse.

“all that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.” mitski miyawaki kindly carry me out

every threat or demand finnegrin has made and callum has done nothing but scour. he has been as strong as anyone can be. and all of a sudden here he is crying out for mercy, pleading, bargaining, the lowest we've ever seen him. it hurts, but finnegrin was right.

"just... just let her go."

"NO! NO"

his defeat. we know this is because of... literally everything he has ever stood for being demolished. but his personal moral catastrophe aside, don't you find it interesting how he did all of that to keep rayla safe, and yet he never once went to her? i made another post abt this but i'm saying it again: rayla told him not to. and she believed in him. she's safe, but i don't think he thought he really saved her. he doesn't think he deserves anything she's giving him. he refuses to indulge in her, he refuses to confide in her, he refuses to seek her out. but he just saved her life. but that's not enough. not enough to resolve this within himself, and apparently not enough for the girl who's life he has saved twice now, who has stuck by him for years, who has dedicated everything to him, to be able to be okay with it. and he just kind of... accepts it. he doesn't beg for forgiveness, that being said he doesn't tell her either. this may seem like he's protecting himself, that he really just doesn't want to lose her, that he doesn't want to face this at all, but maybe it's him not wanting to disappoint her. yknow i really hate to be one of those people who ignores how basically all of callum's character surrounds his own internal conflict in favor of rayllum fan service, but fuck it's hard no to sometimes. he wants to be her hero, but he isn't; not to himself, anyway. this would always be the case. and yet... he did it all anyway. if that isn't unconditional, i'm jumping off a bridge.

no matter who he's protecting he is still being so strong for her

"yeah. yeah, i'm okay. i am." no, that obviously wasn't the truth. but for a "horrible liar," he sure appeared at least a little bit better. at the end of the day, the end of the battle, rayla's okay. and that always seems to help.

face touch 🩷

that hug man. her deep sigh. his shame melting into unavoidable comfort. him letting go despite all his better judgement. also it was cute. homicidal. but cute.

THE OTHER WATER SCENE IM STARTING TO THINK I HAVE A TYPE

the "eyes on me" thing AUUUHGHHGHGHGHGH

"i-i'm getting out" 👏ZERO👏HES👏ITATION👏 AND THE THING THAT MADE HIM BREAK WAS THE FEAR/SADNESS IN HER VOICE. LIKE AT FIRST HE WAS JUS LIKE "U GOOD?" BUT THEN HE SAW HOW UPSET SHE WAS AND WAS ALL "FUCK THE FATE OF THE WORLD IM GIVING YOU A HUG"

the squad reunion post-claudia when rayla gives callum's arm an extra little squeeze 😭

the ending handhold 🫶 thereee'ssss my little married couple

welp i would say it's been fun but it's been more so absolutely excruciating so. it has been.

if i still had feelings i would be so happy <3

[bonefall]

got some Skypelt asks for ya! putting it all in one ask so I don’t spam you but it’s ok if you don’t want to answer all of them

Once Skyclan moves to the lake, do dead Skyclan warriors go to Skypelt or can they walk both skies?

Once moving to the lake, is Skypelt likely to take in DF cats? Not ones already in the DF, but in a “that was kind of fucked up, you can stay with us” kind of way. if say.. Leafpool got condemned to the DF for example

Do Skyclan medicine cats receive omens from Starclan at all or only Skypelt?

Is Skypelt just as flawed as Starclan, and if so is it in different ways? Do they have different politics or just a different culture? (Like, do they have their own “fire alone vs thistle law” or do they skew one way naturally?

i’m a Skyclan stan and love the lore you’ve given them :3c

Canon has been serving SkyClan Fans WEAKSAUCE pasta lately, I am simply out here to feed you guys. Blitz ask time!

"At the Lake, where do SkyClan's Stars walk?"

Think of Heaven like a big bubble. Any culture can dream up their own bubble, but it takes many years, ancestors, and generations to make this bubble as large and as powerful as StarClan.

Skypelt is a smaller bubble. A broken-off piece of StarClan-Prime. SkyClan is very proud of this little bubble because it's THEIRS. When they rejoined, SkyClan does not see their bubble as the same thing as the Forest Four's bubble.

So Skypelt hangs off the side of StarClan at the Lake. They are connected but still separate.

So it's totally possible for Silverpelt Angels and Skypelt Angels to go back and forth between the bubbles! There are even living cats who invoke the patrons of the other Clans. Skywatcher is popular for all five, prayed to for memory and archival.

"Is Skypelt likely to overrule unfair Silverpelt trials?"

No, very unlikely.

Skypelt oversees the affairs of SkyClan. Silverpelt oversees the Forest Four. They see these sorts of things as separate. Skypelt is really not trying to be a counterculture/rebel movement to their neighbors.

If they were to overrule in this way, it would be for a cat they had a claim to. If for some reason they had overheard Firestar's trial and StarClan sent him to the Dark Forest, Skypelt would demand for him.

In Better Bones, Leafpool was less of the cat in trial. It was Squilf, who died defying invasion orders to brutalize a nursing mother and kits. Skypelt DOES have a claim in this situation! They had also been opposed to this invasion, and Squilf had faithfully helped them before this point.

If they were willing to fight StarClan-Prime over this is a different story.

Digressing, this applies only for specific situations. Usually, no, they don't do this.

"Where do SkyClan Clerics get their omens?"

Usually Skypelt, but Silverpelt will occasionally relay one, especially for prophecies and warnings that address all Clans.

"What are the ways in which Skypelt, and the politics of SkyClan, are flawed?"

They culturally lean towards Fire Alone, with even their hardest right cats looking more like Normal Traditionalists. That includes Sharpclaw!

It would be more accurate if I gave them new terms for their positions, since they are unique political alignments.

They don't have the same concepts of "blood purity" that Forest Four do, but also don't carry the commitment to honor. Battle is not a value! It is a martial art and a means to an end, a skill that can be a tool.

Things SkyClan would be willing to consider that Forest Four have a hard time with;

Mercenary work

Human cooperation

"Dishonorable" battle tactics such as weaponry and poisons; SkyClan fights to win

Democracy and decentralized governance

Most of these things are not inherently bad, but they are significantly different from Forest Four Clan culture.

They also don't have the same reverence for scars, and different beauty standards. Surprisingly they are also more likely to have bitterness around "Free Meals," believing that a cat who has somewhere else to be shouldn't take valuable resources.

So for example they didn't allow daylight warriors to have 4 square meals like Clan cats. 2 at most, the rest should come from their humans. They do also have a fair amount of abelism in their society, unfortunately.

And Skypelt reflects that.

Skypelt never holds trials, respecting the opinions of the living in who gets let in. It's tied more to funeral practices and prayer than the judgement of the deceased.

In general, Skypelt is not nearly as haughty or self-righteous as StarClan-Prime. This could be exploited-- a Mudclaw-type or a CANON Ashfur is more likely to be sent to Skypelt than Silverpelt.

[blowflyfag]

WRESTLING ALL STARS: Heroes and Villains : February 1993 

Ready for something really scary, boys and girls? CACTUS JACK’S A MANAGER! 

By GEORGE NAPOLITANO

The wild, weird and wacky Cactus Jack has taken up a new career. He’s now a manager in the WCW. Cactus is managing the affairs of the unpredictable Barbarian and the one-time “Mr. USA” Tony Atlas. It wasn’t that many years ago that people said Cactus Jack was unmanageable! How can a man known for his unpredictable and bizarre behavior come to manage two veterans like the Barbarian and Tony Atlas?

[Cactus says, “People say I’m nuts–but I know exactly what I’m gonna do every time I enter the wrestling arena!”]

It defies logic but it’s true. Several months ago after suffering a severe groin pull, Cactus Jack approached the Barbarian about helping his career. The Barbarian surprisingly agreed and the two have been together ever since.  Cactus confided in the Barbarian that he knew how to make him a champion. Cactus Jack has been putting the Barbarian through a very rigorous training regime. The training may be unorthodox by normal standards but why would anyone think that Cactus Jack would stoop to orthodox tactics for his stable of contenders?

“No one gives me any credit at all,” Cactus moaned after putting his proteges through another strenuous routine. “I know exactly what I am going to do every time I climb through the ropes. My job is to win in any way I can and I will use anything I can to get the job done. If it means using a chair, the ring posts, the guard rails or the stairs to beat my opponent, I will use it. People say I’m unorthodox. People say I’m nuts. Some say I’m crazy–but tell me what’s wrong with using stairs if they’re there? It doesn’t matter how you win just as long as you win and the Barbarian understands this now. He’s a man after my own heart. He’s tough, strong, powerful and a little crazy too. That’s what makes him so good. Besides the Barbarian, I now have Tony Atlas in my stable too, and my new killer is the same way. He used to be soft but my good friend Tony Rumble taught him a better way. Now he’s ready to be champion in the WCW. With the Barbarian and Atlas I’ve got the next champions in my corner.”

[While wrestling for UWS a few years back, Cactus was managed by wrestling legend Maniac John Tolos.

While the Barbarian looks on, Cactus explains to WCW announcer Jim Ross just how he and the big guy are going to conquer the world!]

It’s still hard to fathom how Cactus Jack–never a champ himself–can instill enough knowledge into his men to make them champions. Although this may seem impossible in theory, there are many other managers who fall into this category. The renowned Captain Lou Albano never won a title; neither did Bobby “The Brain” Heenan. Paul E. Dangerously, Jim Cornette and Jimmy Hart never even donned a pair of tights! Using this as a barometer, Cactus Jack then certainly has the credentials to be a manager! If Cactus is even half as successful as these other great managers, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[The maniac’s table of wrestlers is already impressive. Cactus has taken The Barbarian and Tony Atlas beneath his dement wing!

A horribly bloodied Cactus Jack screams at the crowd following a match in the Orient.]

Whether the Barbarian and Tony Atlas can achieve championship status remains to be seen, but Cactus certainly has them believing in themselves. With their new positive energy, their strength, agility and skill and unpredictable behavior of Cactus Jack at Ringside, the Barbarian and Tony Atlas could be championship bound.

[Here’s how the Barbarian looked back in the days when he was one half of the WWF tag team known as The Powers of Pain.

Cactus Jack may seem like a complete lunatic in the ring, but insiders say he isn’t as crazy as he acts. Yes, there's a method in his madness!

Cactus Jack’s new main man is Tony Atlas, shown here working over Greg “The Hammer” Valentine.]

Don’t laugh, stranger things have happened in the crazy world of professional wrestling!

[toweringclam]

MTG Plane Concept: Paramount City

Elevator pitch: Superheroes in MTG

The story is set in Paramount City, a metropolis rivaling New Capenna (though still dwarfed by Ravnica). It's a thoroughly modern city, though with touches that make it fit with Magic's design aesthetics. In this world, there's a mysterious force called the Rift that drives people to extremes of both good and evil. Some people can tap into the Rift through various methods (inborn talent, actual magic, gadgets, intense training, etc), and those people are called Supers. Using Rift is aided by adopting an archetypal identity, especially if you keep it separated from your "normal" identity, hence all the wild costumes and names.

Mechanically, the set would be factional based on arcs. However, rather than "centered" arcs (one color+its allies) it's more like "split" arcs (enemy colors+their mutual ally). This means that each faction is pulled in two different directions by opposing goals, fitting the theme of split identities. Also, although there are five factions, there's a pretty strong good/evil split, with the faction centered on Blue as a spoiler.

Those factions are:

The Metropolitan Defenders (Defenders, GWU): The big damn heroes. The ones you think of when you hear the word "hero." They're the most morally upright team, holding themselves and others to the highest standards of ethics (W). Their internal divide is between serving the people (G) or upholding the law (U).

The People's Underground (Underground, RGW): Split off from the Defenders years ago over ideological differences. A loosely affiliated network of neighborhood protectors, vigilantes, and others who skirt up to the edge of the law. They're dedicated to protecting the people of the city (G), but are split over whether to pursue justice (W) or vengeance (R) against those who would cause harm.

The Breakers' Union (Breakers, BRG): Originally started by disgruntled henchmen, they're an alliance of small-time crooks, anarchists, and others who find themselves on the wrong side of the law. They defy the system almost on principle (R), but are torn between whether they should do something about it (G) or just serve their own self-interest (B).

The Council of the Rift (Council, UBR): The Council are a contentious group of malefactors who all seek to exploit the Rift for their own ends. They're willing to employ any methods to pursue their own personal power at the expense of everyone else (B). Though some wish to use it to remake the world in their own image (U), others would rather just see the world burn (R).

Initiative Omega (Omega, WUB): An organization of scientists, soldiers, and spies formed by the government in response to the rise of Supers. Omega sees both sides as dangerous and disruptive to the status quo. To that end, they seek to understand the Rift as much as possible (U), though whether they'll use it for the betterment of mankind (W) or to eliminate all Supers (B) is still up in the air.

I'll maybe go more in-depth on this idea later, just want to get it out there for now and see if people like it

[leftistfeminista]

How Marxist-Feminist prisoners resisted prison uniforms

Yes, tension had diminished for a while, but now it came roaring back. The enemy didn’t implement all our demands. He withdrew many of the rights we’d fought for or never put them into practice at all. He censored the newspapers—he cut out the most important articles before we got them. Books we ordered arrived after months of waiting because they were supposedly being “examined.” He rejected requests made by the prisoners’ representatives. He wanted to keep us from knowing that our resistance could ever succeed, and to keep us in constant fear.

Uncertainty was brewing. Communication between the wards remained difficult, but some messages from the men reached us, verbal and written, saying that the enemy now insisted on them singing the national anthem once a week, addressing the captain as “commander,” and counting off. What did we think about it? they asked. “If you don’t go along with it, then we won’t either,” the men wrote. But another message said they’d decided: “We decided to stick to the agreement for a while, to see what the administration would do.” That bothered me. So far, the enemy had failed to force us [women] to address him as “commander.”

For a time, our representative had said “commander” during roll call, when she called out her number, but we’d stopped that too. We’d sidestepped a lot of rules or just ignored them. For us to start following that rule now, when we hadn’t before, would be a big setback, and it would mean we were submitting to military discipline. I wrote back, “We won’t abide by your decision. It puts the whole resistance in a bad light.” The men criticized that but let us decide for ourselves. We communicated our decision to the representatives, to the other prisoners, and to the families, who made a joint petition to the military commander.

We informed the lawyers, but they were even more useless than our families—they did nothing. The prison authorities issued a new order: “Every prisoner is a soldier and is to be treated like a soldier.” It went on and on. And then finally a rumor started that we were to get prison uniforms. Uniforms! We couldn’t imagine it—we thought of the striped convict garb in American films. Were they going to make us wear standardized blouses and skirts or shorts? We laughed about it, but seriously, what did it signal about the prison? The men friends warned all wards: “The purpose of the uniforms is to create a unitary human type. They are an attack on the resistance. We will refuse to wear them.”

We took to wearing several layers of underwear under our normal clothes, in case the enemy tried to take them away. The idea of being stripped made us cringe. The soldiers would certainly attack if they set eyes on naked or half-naked women. It would be ugly. But we were determined to refuse the uniforms. Nor would we take a step backwards or give up improvements we’d gained in the death fast. Then we heard that some of the men had been isolated for defying or insulting the soldiers. When we saw them in the courtroom or the infirmary, they looked pale because they were being denied time in the exercise yard. Diseases were spreading. None of the TKP women prisoners were forced to comply with the new rules, due to their conciliatory attitude toward the enemy.

 On January 1, 1984, our uprising began. We built barricades, placing iron beds and tables at the doors. The steel lockers were as tall as the doors, and the inner and outer doors were separated by only a short distance. The soldiers were afraid to open the outer door. Looking in through the slot, they just saw a steel locker. [Unlike the 1983 death fast, leadership cadre did not organize this action. The morale, experience, and confidence gained by the September 1983 resistance enabled broad participation.] Knowing they’d throw smoke bombs in through the door slots, we taught all the prisoners how to cover their mouth and nose with a damp cloth. We banged plates against the iron window frames and against the doors, making a racket. We chanted slogans, and sang revolutionary songs, and recited poetry. That was how we protested torture—we didn’t have any other way. The barricades reminded me of what I’d read about the Paris Commune. The people and resistance units had built barricades on the streets and fought behind them. We knew about barricades from novels and movies.

Now we were constructing them ourselves, under very different conditions. Our only weapons were our beliefs, our will, and our naked bodies. At the moment, only our voices were fighting. The enemy could still break open the door, tear down walls, or come in through the windows—but we didn’t care. The important thing was to make it as hard as we could for him. Later we found out that barricades had been erected in many other wards as well. But prisoners were still dragged to the movie theater. Those who refused to wear uniforms were stripped naked and tortured. Those who capitulated and accepted the rules were housed in a ward together.

[redheadbigshoes]

Hi, I´m a trans woman who feels very VERY dysphoric about her unshaven legs and arms, I can't stand to look or even touch them when they´re not shaven, and I feel very very good when they´re shaved.

While I know being a femme lesbian doesn't necesarily mean I should shave my legs, I find myself more comfortable indicating myself as such when my extremities are shaven, otherwise I get the anxiety of looking like a man when my body is NOT shaven

But I´m also a feminist and I consider myself to be very involved it, so of course I would normally push to defy patriarchy and traditional beauty standards whenever I can. Of course, this would mean not shaving my body hair.

I'm kind of between a rock and a hard place here. This is half a vent and half looking for advice, if you or other anons have it.

Thank you, love your blog and please take care

I feel like being a feminist doesn’t necessarily mean you need to stop shaving or anything like that. Wanting to shave, especially considering you’re a trans woman, doesn’t make you any less feminist.

[frenchbreadandeggs]

Wrong Cinderella │2│

pairing: shoto todoroki

summary: Reunited with his mother, Shoto faces the last order from his father, Enji, to pick a woman in the ball that will be held during his birthday and marry her. Absurd and stupid when he first heard it, but later on took an effect on him. Falling in love with the woman he met with the white mask.

Your life was normal if you were asked how your life has been lately. Working as a normal salarywoman and a good friend to Izuku and Katsuki. Until there was a knock on your door and revealed Shoto, the son of the richest CEO in Japan and who also owns the company you were working at, tells you that he has found you.

You were clueless, what does he mean that he has found you?

cw: fem!reader

chapter one's here!

Shoto stormed inside the mansion’s living room. Fury rumbled inside his beating chest, he walked with precise steps even with his emotions rising with madness. Albert notified Shoto that his father, Enji, settled a ball for him. After hearing the disastrous news from the family butler, Shoto swiftly walked back home, leaving his favorite soba he ordered.

He opened the door with a grim look.

“There you are.” Enji’s voice echoed in the almost empty room, “I know you’re the kind of person to defy my order, just like your siblings.” He said, mumbling the last sentence so Shoto wouldn't hear what he mentioned.

Ignoring what his father said, he spoke, rage mixed with his voice, “What kind of rubbish idea for you to arrange a ball for me?”

“It was mine.” A frail but soft voice replied, her ashen eyes looked at Shoto.

“...Mom?” Suddenly, his anger faded away and his face softened by his mother’s gaze. The fury swirling in his chest calmed down with celerity, oh he missed her so much. After years separated from each other, they met again.

“Take a seat.” Rei uttered, smiling at her youngest son. He missed those little smiles from his beloved mother.

Shoto silently followed his mothers orders and sat across from her. Why was she here? She was supposed to be in the hospital, recovering from those painful scars in the past.

“Your mother got discharged from the hospital two hours ago.” Enji stated, staring at Shoto with his cold eyes. “We talked about your marriage, and it seems that your mother wants to help. Which I oblige.”

He cleared his throat and continued to talk, “Even though what she told me was below my standards, I accept it, after all you deserve something for your own.”

Deserve something for himself? Did he hear that correctly from his father? This was new to him, his father would pick a rich daughter from one of his co-companies and shove her up in Shoto’s ass. It was unlikely from Enji to do this kind of thing.

“It’s unlikely for you to do that.” Shoto snarled.

Rei shook her head and spoke, “Don’t worry Shoto, I convinced him to do that.” She looked at the half and half boy with a weak smile on her face. Even Rei is tired of Enji’s doings for their family for years. But what surprised her was when Enji told her something when he was picking her up from the hospital.

She paused before continuing, gazing at her son’s heterochromia eyes.

“Let’s listen to your father first.”

“Father.”

“...”

“Thank you.”

He couldn’t say anything to his mother. Especially when she came home, emotions swirled in his stomach. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry in her arms, hug her tightly. But he can’t, it might be weeks for Rei to warm up to Shoto, he was the reason who gave trauma to her right?

“As your mother requested, we’re going to hold a ball for your celebration and have every girl your age participate, it’s your choice which girl to choose. With or no social status, rich or not, having a quirk or none. It’s your choice, I’m not going to do anything but to give approval which I would gladly give.”

Now this is getting ridiculous, this is not him, not him at all. He’s a power hungry man, wants popularity. Everything you could imagine with this man. But what happened? Did he really change like that? Or he’s doing this and he’s planning something on his back.

“Why didn’t you do this to my siblings?”

“Because I was ignorant.” Enji stated, not looking at his son anymore, “It was selfish of me to shove everything to my children. I was overstepping their boundaries.”

Looking at his shocked son, he spoke, “I would gladly give everything to you… since I broke your childhood.”

Shoto sneered, still not accepting his father’s gift, “You’ll never change by using mom against me. I’m not going to agree with your ball, whether it’s mom’s idea.”

He stormed out of the living room, leaving the two adults alone. The two sat in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

Enji sighed, “This is my fault anyways, I’m so sorry.” He looked down at his tea, seeing his reflection in the clear beverage. The man looked at Rei, she stared at him with her gray eyes, telling him he could speak. “Please convince Shoto to accept this, if he still doesn’t want to then it’s fine. There will be no ball or marriage happening.”

“I will try.” Rei spoke, and stood up holding the table for support. She opened the door of the living room to leave when her husband said something unexpected.

“Thank you.”

Rei walked on the felt fabric of the hallways, the sun shone at the windows having its sun rays paint on the red floor. Only her footsteps echoed across the empty corridor, it had been a while since she walked in her so-called home. Many changes made the white haired woman confused. Gladly, Albert showed her the way to Shoto’s room.

She never felt this nervous before. Her hands trembling underneath each other, was it because of the incident years ago? 

No no, she must face her son. He has gone through a hell of a childhood—no mother who could support him, away from his siblings, and an abusive father pushing his limits. It pains her to see her soon-to-be twenty-one-year-old son suffering under his father’s roof.

“I can’t raise him anymore, I want to run away from this life.”

“Mom?”

“Mom?”

Rei jumped, turning her head towards Shoto’s room. She saw the boy standing outside his door, judging by the cap he’s wearing, Shoto’s going out. Gulping, she forced herself to smile.

“Can I have a minute before you go?”

Shoto looked at her confused, thoughts then again swirled around him thinking what would his mother tell him. All he could do was nod while the woman smiled.

“Do you want to talk in the dining room?”

Rei shakes her head in response, saying that it’s better to talk inside his room since there would be maids  doing their work and it would be troublesome for them.

The young boy closed the door behind them, he looked at his mother who was already seated on his bed. She softly patted the free space beside her, telling her son to sit with her—next to her.

When he sat on the soft mattress, two arms engulfed him with a motherly warmth. Shoto sat there, surprised, not knowing what to do, making the hug awkward. He heard small sniffles from his mother that made him pull away from her. Rei looked at him with pain and regret, her tears threatening to fall from her silver eyes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve not done that to you.”

Shoto’s face softened and lovingly hugged his mother back. The room felt silent for a minute until Rei spoke.

“I know this is kind of forcing you out,” She pulled away, wiping her tears away sniffling here and there, “But this would be the last from your father.”

His face darkens when the mention of this dad but listens to his mom. Shoto glanced at his mother, telling her to continue what she was saying.

“I want you to take your father’s offer.”

Shoto furrowed his eyebrows at his mom’s statement. Did Enji threaten his Rei to ask him this? Well that’s too much of him, Shoto already said no. He doesn’t want to feed his father’s ego any more.

“Please, I don’t want you to suffer more. You deserve better.” Rei cupped her hands on Shoto’s so he could look at her straight in her eyes. Enji did too much to Shoto’s childhood, pulling him away from his siblings— breaking his youth.

“I want to atone my mistakes.”

She remembered those exact words Enji told her when they were inside her hospital room. His eyes staring at the polished floor like it’s the most interesting thing in Rei’s bland room.

“Even if you did, their minds would never change towards you.”

“Forget that this is for your father only. Think that this is also for Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Me.” She held her son’s hands with hers in such a gentle manner, making Shoto calm for the first time.

“I want you to move on from those painful memories.”

[moiraimyths]

How do we make everyone laugh? What do they find funny (no puns except for Robin, person of high art and culture)

Shae: They tend to be better than expected at catching sarcastic jokes and they love it when they do. They love watching adorable things like newborn kittens wobbling and always has a giggle fit over them.

Keagan: He enjoys a well crafted joke as much as the next person. Other than that, he gets a kick out of watching people squirm when he has them where he wants them.

Aífe: Snarky comebacks and witty retorts are the way to go, darling. She doesn't much care for sycophants, so she finds it very amusing when present company is willing to defy standard decorum.

Maeve: She loves all kinds of jokes, so also long as she understands you'll at least get a chuckle. Not as much of a fan of slap stick, however.

Flannán: Honestly, his humour can be a bit mean-spirited. If you tell him a normal joke, he'll maybe briefly chuckle, but if you accidentally walk face-first into a tree, he'll guffaw, then ask if you're alright. Blame his inner jock.

Robin: On top of the aforementioned puns and annoying everyone within their vicinity, whatever this is:

***

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is now out on Steam and Itch.io, and has a Kickstarter pre-launch page! Check our pinned post for details!