#Its about being SEEN. and making each other better for it

[celeste-clearwater-06]

The Kitchen Window (pt. 4)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (everything finally clicks into place when you're invited over to Vern's place. some new friends mean new experiences)

warnings - swearing

word count - 4.7k (I told y'allll)

READ PREVIOUS PARTS HERE - one - two - three

You’ve been brooding the past couple of days. Life has been sucker punching you in the gut, one insane, unthinkable blow at a time.

Work hours are getting ridiculously longer, April O’Neil hasn’t texted you back since the night you spilled all of your secrets. And you haven’t seen or heard Raphael around. Not that important, but it still contributes to the pile of miserable shit you’re handling. Thankfully, Vannie seems to be filling that lonely space in your flat. She’s a sweet relief to see at the end of each night when you get back from work, purring and content. You hadn’t realized how nice it was to come home to someone that’s so pleased to see you. She’s helping you cope, even if just a little. A cat tree now sits in the far corner of your living room so she’s not climbing all over the counters and scratching at your sofa. Though simple, it adds a new, homey addition to the space.

This night off is uneventful. Vannie sits in your lap, fast sleep, while you mindlessly scroll on your phone and sip on a glass of fruit juice that’s been sitting in your fridge for just a little too long. Hometown highschool friends with their engagement rings and college graduation posts. Not something that you particularly yearned for, but it still hurt a little. It was probably time to pick up a damn hobby. Vern texts you. What a surprise.

[Hey kiddo]

He hasn’t called you that in a long time. It makes your throat tighten up.

[what up big man]

It takes him a second to type out another text.

[I know we haven’t seen each other much. Figured you might wanna come see my apartment? it’s nice]

An invite to your older brother’s fancy new place is the last thing you’d expected in the form of a late night message.

[tonight?]

[tommorow]

[hell yeah]

Finally, a small start to getting better. Vannie stretches in your lap and you stroke her fur.

The subway ride uptown is weird. You forget that there’s literal trains running underground, after walking to and from work for so long. It would be more exciting, if not for being sandwiched between two total strangers and the silence of people kind of just looking around. The screech of wheels on the tracks breaks it every once in a while. You’re also not a fan of the shoving and pushing of total strangers through the way-too-small sliding doors when you reach your destination, almost tripping at least twice. Rude.

At the very least, Vern’s apartment complex was just two blocks away from the subway exit. You knew the upper parts of the city were nicer, but it doesn’t really hit until you’re walking on the wide sidewalks and passing restaurants and window shops that put your cafe to shame. Even the early afternoon atmosphere just seems less heavy. There’s more light. You catch just a few more passing smiles than you usually would, up the steps into the main building, where you have to press a button and announce you’re a visitor to your older brother.

The elevator takes you to the 11th floor of the nicest complex you’ve ever been in (not that you’d been in many anyhow).

The whole way here, you've been excited to see Vern, practically bouncing with every step all the way up to his door. But now your fist freezes right above the place where you’re about to knock. Something was so off about this. You rap your knuckles on the wood anyway.

Someone opens the door, after a few shuffling footsteps, and it’s not Vern. Your heart drops.

“April?” A voice crack slips its way through your dry throat.

Oh my god. She’s told him everything.

She told your older brother all of your insane ramblings, and now she’s greeting you with a friendly smile like it’s nothing. So this is what the invitation was all about. The both of them were probably waiting inside with a psychologist or a one way ticket to a padded room. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Oh hey!” April is warm with her greeting, but it does nothing to shake the spirit of your utter confusion. To add to it all, Vern’s head peeks over hers with a weak wave of his hand and a sheepish expression.

“Hey kiddo.”

You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between them. The reporter still holds that confident, close-mouthed smile, while your older brother is struggling to keep it together.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” it’s more of a question than a statement, “Are we having a little get together or something?”

Vern tries to speak, but April cuts him off.

“Yeah we figured it’d be good to talk here!”

You can’t protest when she grabs your arm and all but drags you through the doorway and slams it shut, leaving you in the entryway of a lavish, modern, way-too-white apartment. It’s hard to process anything going on. The scenery, Vern’s guilt ridden eyes and the millions of thoughts firing in your brain are all increasingly overwhelming. You're starting to get a headache.

“L-Look, April, about the other night-“

“You don’t have to explain anything.” She pulls you again, this time in the middle of taking your shoes off and past the coat rack. You catch your brother's eye and he looks nearly as lost as you feel. April continues.

“It’s about time we talked about this anyway.”

That makes you nervous. You’re being led into a nice kitchen, Vern at your heels and watching helplessly.

“We don‘t have to!” You exclaim and yank your wrist from her determined hold, “I was just-just tired! I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep, I know I sounded like a total maniac-“

She is completely uninterested in hearing your case, instead rolling her eyes and taking hold of your arm once again.

“We can just forget this whole thing! The loneliness has been getting to me, it’s really…not…”

When you step past the wall of the kitchen you trail off, dumbfounded to silence. All and any rational thought has fled.

Raphael, your savior, the giant fucking turtle, is standing, cross-armed, and a little nervous looking, next to three others that look eerily similar in their stature and green scales, though they all wear vastly different expressions that give away their thoughts. They’re all decked in various scraps of gear and oversized clothing, and like the one in red, have different colored bandanas over their eyes.

You look and feel like a total moron. Just standing there, mouth agape, only wearing one shoe and eyes flicking between the quartet of reptiles and your brother, who’s pinching his temple between two fingers in distress. The shortest of the four offers an over exaggerated smile and wave, before being kicked in the back of the leg, by another in a blue mask. He looks immensely annoyed. You have no idea what to say and when you open your mouth to speak, a flustered gasp squeezes its way from the back of your throat.

“I told you guys this was a shit idea,” Vern says. The tallest turtle shifts his weight from one large foot to another. It’s so quiet, so awkward, and yet you’re so discombobulated, your head starts to spin and you lean against the wall for support. You knew there was more than one night assailant. But four? And all nearly the same size and appearance? This was beyond absurd.

“Okay,” your voice is quiet, but it immediately captures the attention of everyone that’s standing in the room, “Can someone, genuinely, please tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you right away.” April speaks up from behind you. You turn to see her apologetic eyes. Your silence prompts her to continue an explanation.

“These are my friends.” She sounds like trying to tame some wild animal, and her arm sweeps out to gesture towards the four, “I just wanted to see, you know… if it was really just ‘some guy’ that stopped whoever was grabbing you.”

Guess she was right. You rotate once again at Vern who is trying to avoid eye contact.

“You knew?!”

Everyone jumps at the sudden escalation in your shocked question.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!”

You scoff.

“What, am I supposed to just tell you I’m acquainted with four, crime fighting, ninja turtles?! I’d sound batshit crazy!”

It was only fair that he thought that way. Suddenly, your distant, uninvolved brother was in your exact shoes, and your shoulders slump downwards in exasperation.

“So would I, Vern! I knew- I knew-, I wasn’t insane, but this whole situation has been eating at me for fucking weeks!”

If not for the absolute shock running through you, you would have laughed at the way April and the vigilantes just stand there and watch your argument like it’s reality TV, turning their heads each time one of you speaks up.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You should be glad we're telling you now!”

You throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes, once again rendered speechless.

A different voice pulls you from the confrontation. It’s the one in blue, now standing a little nearer to you. He’s massive, just like the others, even more now up close. You’re still not used to them talking in perfect, clear English. Or, really, at all.

“Sorry we had to meet this way.” His voice is deep, mature, and assertive. Surely the head honcho of the group. He’s smiling like it’s a peace offering, lopsided and gentle.

“I-I don’t-“ You search for the right response, but he does the talking for you and offers a calloused, three fingered hand.

“Leonardo.”

A long pause. Then an overtaxed sigh. You accept his introduction and awkwardly take it. You’re literally shaking a talking turtle's hand.

“I guess you already know my name.”

“We sure do, angel!” Leonardo is being shoved suddenly, quickly replaced with the energetic, shortest of the party. His bandanna is orange, and he’s puffing out his chest with confidence that out’s Vern’s ego to sorry shame. It immediately puts a curious smile on your face.

“I’m Michealangelo, but all the ladies call me Mikey.”

He grabs your hand delicately and places a cool kiss to the back of it while he bows toward the floor. You can’t do anything but awkwardly chuckle and watch as the others groan and cover their faces in embarrassment. This guy was pretty funny.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mike.”

You look to the tallest, who’s pushing the thick-lensed, tortoise print glasses up his nose. He opts to wave his hand from where he’s standing, seeming to sense the already overwhelming lack of personal space you have.

“Donatello.” It’s the voice you overheard on the radio last week, that accidentally gave away Raphael’s name.

Oh. OH. It finally clicks in your brain. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello. Raphael.

“Renaissance artists, huh?”

April meets your face with a kind of look that reads, ‘now you get it’.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Mikey kisses his flexed bicep, “Works of art.”

You laugh.

“I named my cat after Van Gogh.”

Raphael, still standing back from the group, lifts his head and meets your eyes at the mention of her. He looks away again, but a little smirk breaks as he rolls a toothpick off his tongue and in between his teeth.

The sort of shared interest seems to break a little bit of the tension, and the other three smile.

”Damn, Raph,” Mikey grins over at the ray of sunshine, “Not even gonna come say hi to your girlfriend?”

Your face flushes lightly. It’s clearly just a little jab to get under his skin, but you’re caught slightly off guard. Thankfully nobody seems to notice.

The smile’s gone, replaced with a huff of his nostril and a flick to Mikey’s head when Raphael walks over to finally introduce himself.

“Hey.”

You realize, this is the first time you’re standing in front of him without a window in the way. He’s still impossibly large. But you’re just so close. It feels almost foreign, witnessing the broad shoulders and tough plastron that pairs with those intense, forest colored eyes.

“Nice to meet you. Again.” Is all you can say, through a warm smile.

He snuffs, a sort of amused laugh, that makes you smile widely.

“Yeah. Sorry this got turned into such a big ordeal.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad I got to put a name to the face.”

You two kind of just stare at each other in silence. Mikey doesn’t let it draw on for long.

“You need to let me see this cat!”

“Oh, of course!” You don’t realize how warm your face is until you’re grabbing your phone from your pocket.

April and Vern are standing near each other again, now a little more relaxed seeing you warm up and pull up a photo of Vannie from your camera roll while the four look over your shoulder. Mikey coos at a video of her playing with the strings of your hoodie.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

So maybe it wasn’t ideal, the execution of their plan. Maybe you felt a little betrayed by your brother and his friend.

But.

You’ve made four new friends. And, as odd as they come (and intimidating as they look), they seem to like the way you welcome into your life.

The weeks flying by after you meet the four brothers have gone so much better than before. You’re getting sleep, still working your job up at the cafe, you’ve got Vannie. And that late-night sound of the manhole sliding against asphalt in the back alleyway begins once again. Now when you awake early in the morning to its noise, you just smile and snuggle further into your covers, with the reassurance that there are no scary monsters or felons that stalk in the night. Just four city-protecting vigilantes doing what they do best.

On the weekends, you stay up late to their frequent visits to your kitchen window. They usually swing by for a quick chat or check in on you. Most of the time it’s Mikey or Raphael. Or both. Sometimes the younger will tag along just to pay Vannie a visit while you and Raphael make playful small talk. Donnie will come through your area every once in a while, and though he doesn’t talk as much as his other brothers, it’s a refreshment to just listen to him talk about the state of the city and whatever new nerdy experiment he’s got going on. Leo rarely visits, unless you happen to catch them all leaving the sewer exit and he sticks around to hear you tell a crazy story about a rude customer or stupid order you’ve had to deal with during the week.

It’s so refreshing to have friends to talk to, even if it’s not every day.

Along with these pop ins, Raph’s been leaving things in your window on some of the nights you’re sleeping or coming home extra late from long shifts. Sometimes it’s a cool rock he found (who knows where), other times, an old abandoned action figure, or more recycled toys for Vannie. Your collection had accumulated on the dresser in your bedroom. It’s sweet.

Sometimes, you return the favor and leave him a cold drink you made at work by the open window before you flop into bed, exhausted. Summer’s rolling around the corner and even the nights get hot, especially considering moving around the city with all of his (badass) parkour. On occasion, you’ll make some for his siblings too, but the weird looks from your coworkers, leaving the shift with a cup holder full of unpaid drinks, limits this to every once in a while.

You don’t know it, but Raph feels so spoiled by your gifts to him.

Life is going so great, and you can feel the stone wall of his gruff exterior start to break when he chuckles at one of your jokes. Your heart warms when you think about him at work. As much as you enjoy seeing all of the brothers, it’s the red-banded one you’re drawn closest to. He makes you feel kind of giddy. It’s hard to put a label on it, but you’d love to call him your best friend, if not, one of your only.

It’s sticky and humid outside, on a late Saturday night in June. You’ve been watching a movie in your bedroom, with Vannie nestled beside you, sleeping, a bowl of microwave popcorn in your lap. The tv’s loud enough to almost drown out a little noise that comes from the kitchen. You barely hear it, but it catches your attention and you quickly snatch the remote to pause the movie.

Tap, tap, tap.

You smile. The shifting of the bed wakes up your cat, and she watches as you throw off the duvet and walk from the bedroom into the hall, bowl of popcorn in hand. When you pass the hall door, Raphael is grinning at you through the window and you fast-walk over to unlock the latch and slide it open. Humid air immediately flows in with his smug smile. Now you remember why the window was closed.

“Hey stranger.”

He snorts, and leans to rest his forearms on the sill.

“Whaddup, short stack?”

You shrug, and then offer out the bowl for him to take from. Raph grabs a handful and stuffs it in his mouth.

“What brings you to this part of town at…” you look at the stove clock, “3 in the morning.”

Raph talks while he’s chewing. A usually crude performance that you find kind of endearing.

“Slow night,” He swallows, and there’s a crumb on the corner of his lip, “Not a lot goin on for us out here.”

You nod, trying not to laugh at the leftovers that he clearly doesn’t notice. He quirks a brow.

“What?”

You reach out to try and swipe at it with your thumb but Raph flinches backwards.

“Come here!” Your laugh is soft, “You got something.”

He brings his face a little close and you wipe it away. It’s the first time you’ve touched his face, you realize. It’s cool, but there’s softer skin on his snout compared to the rest of his leathery scales. You try not to linger on it too much. He sees it on your thumb and playfully rolls his eyes. You can’t tell for sure, but there seems to be a little warmth creeping on his face. There’s tension.

“Yeah, I was savin’ that for later.”

Raph swats your hand away and you laugh.

“That hungry, huh?”

He nods.

“Actually yeah. We got leftover pizza at the lair, but I’m not supposed to be goin back for a while.”

“Want me to make you something real quick?”

He seems a little surprised at your offer (not like he’s gonna turn it down). You hear his stomach grumble.

“Can’t say no to that. How long you think it’ll take ya?”

“Probably a little bit. Do you wanna come inside?”

The invitation leaves your lips before you can think. None of the brothers had actually come inside your apartment before. It takes everything in you not to cringe and brace for the impact of his rejection while Raph looks at you with a perplexed glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” his answer sounds nonchalant, but his grin tells you a whole different story, “Dunno how you expect me to squeeze through this teeny little window though.”

You ponder for a second.

“You think you can sneak up to my front door?”

Raph shrugs.

“I can try. If I die, tell everyone it was your fault.”

You laugh.

“‘Vigilante turtle is found dead trying to get some of the worlds best chicken and rice.’ I can read the headlines now.”

He just shakes his head with a smirk, and then jumps off the fire escape.

“See you in a few.”

You shut the window, and in 45 seconds, there’s a knock at the door, and you rush over to open it and quickly let him in. Raph has to duck just a little to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

“Welcome to my crib.” It’s cringe, the way you lightly punch his shoulder.

“God, you sound like Mikey.”

“That was the goal.”

The turtle rolls his eyes, and then looks around the living room with a little smile.

“Gotta get you some decorations in here.”

You sigh.

“I know. I’m not here all the time. Plus I think Vannie would just knock shit over.”

Meow

“Speaking of.”

She’s already making her way over to him from your room, and rubs herself against his muscular calf.

“Hey kitty.”

Raph bends to give her head a little scritch, not following you over to the kitchenette where you’re pulling thawed chicken from the refrigerator.

“I think she missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks up at your turned body, as you fill a small pot with water from the kitchen tap.

“You said chicken and rice, huh?”

You nod, looking back at him. He’s walking over to you, sandaled feet scuffing on the carpet.

“Small-apartment-owner staple. Plus it’s easy.”

He’s standing behind you now, arms crossed, and curiously watching as you turn on two of the stove burners.

“Probably not for me. I burn just about everythin I touch.”

You think quietly to yourself, the irony of such a hothead setting a bowl of cereal up in flames.

“This is super simple. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“Oh so you’re a barista and a culinary teacher

“This is one of the only things I can cook. You wanna cut up some of that for me?”

Raph sees you gesture to the unopened package of chicken, while you’re pouring a cup of white rice into the pot of slowly boiling water. Cutting, he could do.

The two of you work silently in the small space, ducking over and under each other to grab utensils and spices. You instruct him here and there, but still leave room for the comfortable quiet that’s settled in the air.

After about 15 minutes, you pour a bowl for each of you (his is filled just a little bit more than yours) and invite him to sit on the couch to eat together. The first bite he takes has his eyes rolling in the back of his head with a guttural groan. You flush from behind your fork.

“Good?”

“Fuckin good.”

Your giddy smile says it all. It’s flattering the way he eats without saying a word. You’re so at ease, sitting criss-cross on the couch next to this beast of a guy, both enjoying the comforts of a meal your mom had taught you how to make long before you had left for New-York. This felt so domestic. When he's done, Raph wipes his mouth and sets the bowl down on your coffee table, fork clattering against the ceramic, and leans back on the couch with a stretch. You’re only halfway through your dinner.

“That’s some Gordon Ramsey shit.”

You scoff.

“Hardly. But thank you.”

“Nah, thank you. I’m gettin tired of all that takeout Mike brings home.”

His eyes are closed, hands resting on his plastron, and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Beautiful, you think, and you’re surprising yourself again with the thought. You take advantage of his relaxed eyes, eyes trailing up the long, muscular extent of his body. A weird, warm sensation trills its way up your body, when his broad chest moves with a heavy breath, stopping it’s way at your lungs to give them gentle squeeze. It slows your chewing. When Raph’s eyes open, you quickly focus your attention back down to the food that you’ve suddenly become full from. He says something that you have to ask him to repeat.

“Show me around?”

“O-oh. Yeah sure.” You stand fast, and clumsy, bowl taking its place next to his. You awkwardly adjust your shirt and wait for him to stand from the couch. He follows you down the short hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” you point to your right, and wait for him to kind of peek his head around for a moment, “And here’s my room.”

The movie on the tv is still paused, but it lights the room with a warm glow, along with the dim led lights strung up in the corners of the small space. A simple twin-sized bed in the middle, in between a matching bedside table and dresser. Raph steps into the room past you. It looks so cramped with his massive body in here. You can’t stop his eye catching the little collection of trinkets, lined up in a neat row, on top of the black dresser. His grin is small.

“Was wonderin if you kept all this shit,” He chuckles, picking up one of the little superhero action figures and admiring it. His whole hand engulfs the toy, which is covered in scuffs and scratch marks from years of play.

“Can’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.”

Raphael’s response is a relaxed smile when he looks over his shoulder at you. Your heart skips. He turns again and gently sets the figure in its place.

“This your family?”

He’s referring to the framed picture of you, Vern and your parents behind the line of his little gifts.

“Yeah. My mom and her husband.”

Raph lifts it and you walk over to look at it with him. It’s from a few years prior.

“Not your dad?”

You shake you head.

“Vern’s dad. But we’re close.”

The four of you are in mid laugh, in the selfie that you take with an outstretched arm. You remember taking it on a vacation in the mountains.

“Vern’s always got that stupid look on his face.”

You snicker, shaking your head.

“Yeah. Idiot.”

Once again, Raph places it in its exact spot. It makes your knees shake a little when he’s looking down at you, just centimeters away from your body. To ignore and prevent anymore weird and confusing tension to build, you flop backwards on your bed with a sigh.

“Whatcha bitchin about now?”

You smile up at the ceiling.

“Just don’t wanna go back to work.”

He sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah. Sounds boring.”

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you. You can feel the warmth of his leg bouncing next to yours.

“Whatcha thinking about, Red?”

“Nothin’ important.”

You tilt your head down just a little to see his massive shell facing you. He’s hunched over. You kick him lightly, and he knocks your leg away gently.

“Come onnn, talk to meeee.”

You go to kick him again, but Raph grabs your leg and tickles the back of it. You squeal.

“STOP,” the fight is useless, kicking and scrambling to get away, with an ornery grin on his face, “I’m gonna piss myself!”

With that he backs off, and you’re heaving through laughter.

“Mean.”

“Annoying.”

His smile is wiped away with another thought crossing.

“What time is it?” You both glance at the digital clock on the bedside table behind you.

“Shit. Almost five.”

“Yeah. I better get goin. Gettin’ late- or, I guess early.”

You follow him up to the front door, walking past Vannie who’s playing with that first cat toy he left on your window.

Raph reaches for the door handle, but stops.

“Thanks for lettin me in. And for the food.”

You smile softly.

“Anytime, Raph.”

You didn’t mean to stop so close to him, but here you are, smile slowly fading while you look up at his face. His eyes have got you in a strong hold, and he mirrors your expression, unintentionally. His nostrils flare with a breath outwards.

You want to kiss him, all of a sudden.

Kiss Raphael right on the mouth and not have a care about it.

But you don’t. He grins.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The click of the closing door is your cue to slap your hands over your face in exasperation.

He’s left you with dirty dishes, an empty space, and flustered, red cheeks. You smile behind your hands hearing the scrape of Raphael heading back down into the sewers

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

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[asheepinfrance]

patrick blurb because valentines day. its short and hopefully a little sweet. im soso sorry that this isnt longer, i have two other things i can hopefully get out soon but i write everything day of (stupid) and am traveling so took no time out to write (stupider). regardless i hope you enjoy. as always, comments and critiques are welcome.

If there’s one thing Patrick is, at least with you, it’s a horrible liar. The poor man couldn’t get away with fibbing to save his life. Not that being bad at dishonesty is an issue, in fact, it’s quite the opposite, but there have been times where it would’ve been a welcome presence in your relationship. He couldn’t even lie about liking those jeans you’d picked off the rack, even though it was fairly clear you wanted them, despite claiming that you just couldn’t make up your mind on them. 

So, when he calls and says, “Babe… can you believe that they just extended tour?” you decide to humor him just this once. For one, the excuse was a weak one, and made little to no sense if you thought about it for more than a second or two, but you could just hear the smug ass grin he was wearing. He thinks he’s a genius.

You feign a sigh, twirling the drawstring of your hoodie around your pointer finger before placing it in the seam of your lips. You mumble something about ‘Oh, baby, that’s just terrible’ because, frankly, he’s not the type to care about your less than convincing acting job as long as he’s getting the reaction he wants in general. He’s complaining about needing to book a new hotel, something that he’s actually willing to pay for himself, when he barges into your room and manages to nearly scare you off your bed. He’s got that same stupid grin on his face that you’d previously imagined, now holding his arms wide as if to present himself to you. “This’ll do.”

You’re taking too long to process for his liking, because he drops his bags with a heavy thud, completely uncaring for the equipment stored inside, and makes his way towards you. You can’t manage anything, not the ‘How did you get in here?’ that you should definitely concern yourself with, just a soft murmur of “Patrick…” before throwing yourself at him as hard as you can manage to. He’s strong, noticeably stronger since the last time you saw him about three months ago, and manages to catch your weight with such ease it hardly looks like you weigh a thing. 

The past few days had been hard, as he’d let you know through several hours-long phone calls, but god, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes. The way his smile softens says it all, and he’s just breathing in your presence, your scent, the hints of perfume lingering on the fabric of your hoodie. He’s right at home with it. He knows that when the moment’s through, and the shock’s worn off, you’ll be ashamed by your choice of outfit, your lack of makeup, the mess of hair on your head. He thinks it’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen you, and he didn’t think you could get better than perfection, but here he is, pressed against it. 

He’s got to be uncomfortable, kneeling at your bedside this long, but he can put that aside for now. Right now, he’s with his girl for the first time in the longest three months of his life and he’s not letting go, knees be damned. He presses a few kisses wherever he can manage to reach, and the laugh you let out when you feel his lips just above yours is enough to send him reeling. It sounds so much clearer here than over the phone. He’d thought you were radiant then, even through a screen, but now? Now he’s just about certain you’re made of more light than each star combined. He’d tell you that if he could, but with his habit of saying things just slightly less eloquently than he means to, he opts for just saying “I missed you”.

You know him. Know he means a lot more than he can properly express with his way of speaking. He’s got a lot of ways of showing it, at least. Falling asleep next to a propped up phone, listening to his breathing grow slower, steadier. Finding little notes from month-old visits in odd corners of your room, scrawled in his signature chicken-scratch only you can manage to decode. The way he holds you like you’re fragile and looks at you like too much exposure to his presence could damage you, despite it doing just the opposite, tells you what you needs to know. He means he loves you.

You breathe out a laugh, one that your shoulders raise with.

“Yeah… missed you, too.”

[irregularcollapse]

Hey, I'm so sorry to hear about how you feel about the mota fandom and what happened to you :/ I meant to send a message earlier but life got in the way. I hope you're feeling better now, and I can only tell you that your fics and writing are some of my favorite in the fandom. Just by reading your stories, I can tell the care that was put into choosing each word to best convey the story and the characters' feelings, and it is really somethinf I admire :) I hope I can be as good a writer as you someday ❤️ And for the mota fandom, I totally get what you and that anon said! If you'll allow me a bit of a rant, to me, the mota fandom is full of well-intentioned people but I found that one of its problems is that, as much as there is enthusiasm, it is going in circles. Many have said it and I've noticed it too, but some have a tendency to jump on other people's ideas without giving credit or even asking if it's okay to expand, and on more than one occasion I found one of my ideas in someone else's inbox just a week after I'd posted it which threw me off posting any kinds of hc or random ideas, I only post full fics now because I'm scared that people will see an idea/au that they like on my blog and decide to expand on it without my consent or even crediting me for the original idea :/ To me that sucks because what I love about creating is the interactions with people, but because of the seldom posting except for full fics I don't get much 😂 And I know I could post snippet or hc, but the overenthusiasm bordering on no fandom manners that I've noticed stops me from doing that. Also, as a writer, it is quite discouraging to see people constantly reccing the same 5/6 fics/authors. Don't get me wrong, those are GREAT fics and authors, but babes, there are over 1,000 works in the clegan tag on ao3, why are we constantly reccing the same fics as in summer 2024. It feels like people only read the fics with the highest hits count, and from an outsider's pov, you'd think there are only 10 writers in the mota fandom 😭 I don't if it's bc the mota fandom is new so there are a lots of people from tiktok/that weren't on tumblr/in fandom before but it truly feels like fandom manners are getting lost, despite the plethora of incredible creators in the mota fandom. So there's this opposition between the enthusiasm over new ideas that seems to die down as soon as a story is posted, except if if it's one of the big fics from the summer. Imo the actual recognition of fics doesn't follow the enthusiasm of ideas and hcs, which is a bit of a shame I think, and to be quite honest, it made me lose my motivation to write for mota bc it just feels like I'll post a fic, it'll get traction for maybe a day or two, and then it'll be forgotten somewhere when people sort ao3 by number of hits or kudos

Anyway that was quite long I'm sorry, you don't have to answer this at all, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I really hope you know that even if it may not feel that way, you are an amazing writer, who clearly loves your stories, the characters and the words you use, and that is translated to the ao3 page <3 You truly are one of the most talented fic writers this fandom has, and I'd support you and your stories in whatever fandom you may be in ❤️

I assure you, anon, that you're not the only person to feel this way! I've had quite a few private conversations with friends and mutuals about really similar experiences and observations, and how disheartened and uncomfortable it's making us feel.

I guess people don't say anything because they don't want to be seen as sowing discord or being mean. I know that there are going to be people who might see this and interpret it as me "fuelling fandom discourse" or "fandom wanking" or "being a cunt" but actually I'm just talking about how we treat creators in online spaces, and the way that people en masse have apparently forgotten that creators in fandoms are people.

I had another anon tell me that someone laid claim to one of their ideas in the tags of their headcanon post, and I don't think you're the only person whose idea has been stolen and passed to another writer. I'm really sorry that's happened to you, and you're so right to not feel like posting anything because of it! This is truly the kind of stuff that makes people not want to participate or put themselves out there. Sometimes it's even writers doing the stealing, blatantly and without credit. It makes me think that a lot of people haven't shared creative spaces before and don't know how to be polite.

I also 100% agree about the fic rec thing. It's really disheartening to see the same fics passed around over and over again, not only from a writer perspective but a reader perspective. Something that seems to have emerged in fandom spaces over the years is deifying certain authors of popular fics - fic authors being treated like celebrities, the concept of a "must-read fic", even people only reading fics and authors that are already seen as popular/successful. I get that some people don't want to spend time scraping ao3 for niche fics, that's super understandable, but that's also why it would be nice to see a bit more adventure and variety in fic rec lists!

There is a low-key competitive feeling which a few people have mentioned to me - the feeling that there are people who want to "win" fandom or be the most popular/most reccd/most recognised writer, or whatever it may be. I just feel like anything that makes people feel like they're better than others is... come si dice... not good. I think it's a shitty way to treat people you're sharing a creative space with, to view them as competition and commodity.

Writing for consumption or writing for audience approval isn't something I've ever done, but I feel like it's cropping up more and more in fandom spaces too - not just MOTA, either. That's sort of a different discussion, but I do feel it's related to the copying/stealing in a way as well.

Now I also have to apologise for this getting too long! I'm glad you got it off your chest, and please feel free to come off anon at any time, because you've got an ally in me (and others too, I assure you). I think that everything you've said here merits consideration from everyone, at the very very least! It's in the interest of pursuing a more inclusive, supportive fandom space.

Thanks heaps as well for saying nice stuff about my writing! I only ever want to tell stories, and to give people something to enjoy that has clearly been created with care and consideration. I write to express things I want to express, and so it means a lot to me when other people see what I'm trying to say and pick up what I'm putting down. Truly madly deeply, my most boundless thanks!!! ♥️♥️♥️

[grecoromanyaoi]

The whole "are jews white" thing drives me crazy bc whiteness is not an innate state of being it is a position of power in relation to other people and therefore it is more complicated than "russian ashkie = white and sephardi = brown" but everyone wants to make race into a biological fact so we're stuck unable to acknowledge that in the same way that jews are seen as both capitalists and communists for the purposes of antisemitism, we can also be seen as both white and poc for the purposes of antisemitism AND some jews do access, use, weaponise white privilege. it's not hard

As a side note I happen to think using a "white israeli vs brown palestinian" is functionally inaccurate. while zionism obviously emerges from european nationalism and therefore includes those strains of racism, it is a nationalism aka it is about jews and not white people. ANYWAY.

right right!!! like. u cant rly "separate" jewish ppl into a white/nonwhite binary in terms of oppression bc a. whiteness is a construct, n often applies differently in different situation n b. this may break some of u all's brains but white sephardim also suffer race based discrimination. white ashkenazim n white sephardim have different experiences w race, judaism n antisemitism. there r different ppl from the same city even w wildly different relationships to ethnic identity n race. there r 5 separate synagogues in the venetian ghetto belonging to 5 different ethnic groups. theyre all italian. theyre all venetian even.

ashkenazi/sephardic/mizrahi trinary doesnt work either - many ppl r mixed, white western ashkenazim, asian ashkenazim n ashkenazim of color have different experiences w race, judaism, antisemitism, identity, culture, etc. n so do european sephardim n noneuropean sephardim (even different european sephardim between themselves, ntm how different noneuro sephardic identities r from each other), many ppl identify as both sephardic n mizrahi, etc.

n to the last point at the end of the day its still trying to erase the diversity of palestinians. like while theyre all equally palestinians n their identity is, for the lack of a better word, valid, n palestinian is also obv a cultural identity, there r plenty different ethnic, religious n racial groups within the palestinian identity. i think it connects to how many ppl, esp westerners n esp americans, refuse to analyze any global situation, usually indigenous struggles, outside their specific dichotomy of xyz oppressor n xyz oppressed. they cant fathom that brown n black israelis can b relatively privileged based on their ethnicity, so they decide to just ignore their existence alltogether. like how they refuse to comprehend that americans of color can also b privileged - both globally n as settlers on stolen land, but instead of saying that any and all criticisms of american r racist n targeting poc n usamerican is a racist dogwhistle, they go the in opposite direction n treat all israelis as white, n israel as a white country (dont tell them abt the demographic statistics in both countries). thats also why ppl refuse to b normal abt russian or ottoman imperialism - they cant rly neatly fit it into their idea of what racially/ethnic based oppression looks like.

"are jews white" are christians white? sorry for the long answer/rant, but at the end of the day, this remains unbeated

[blissfulbluee]

457 theory

gi-hun and in-ho have very different views of each other. gi-hun simply sees in-ho as an alliance, and a potential friend, if he isn’t one already.

with in-ho, things are way more complex. i’ll point out the obvious first; he’s obsessed with gi-hun. this obsession is mainly rooted in jealousy, confusion, and hurt. “why does he still have hope for society, and faith in humanity?” is a question he’s ruminated more than once. it’s painful to see someone endure the same trauma and become a better person because of it when you can’t do the same.

in-ho is drawn to gi-hun out of a desire to put an internal conflict to rest. he knows gi-hun’s mere existence represents the fact truly good people exist, and always have, and always will. he’s been aware of this since before gi-hun was a player. in his eyes, however, those people are either weak and taken advantage of, or there aren’t enough of them to make real change. he felt this was confirmed when the strategy he used in the games led him to victory- one i imagine was similar to sang-woo’s.

seeing someone with a different approach win made him wonder if his callousness was in vain. he justified his actions by telling himself gi-hun got lucky, and hoped he’d build a future around that luck. now, years later, he’s back to play the hero? he feels bad that his attempt is in vain, but at least he’ll learn his lesson; the system and those who play by its rules prevail.

a part of him hopes gi-hun will prove him wrong. he sees his past self in him; a man without his current philosophy. anyway, it’s definitely possible that there’s a homoerotic element to this fixation, as many people fall in love with people who remind them of themselves, but it will never be reciprocated after what he’s done. sad because in another universe they’d be a cute couple 😔

Hi! Thanks for the ask. Sorry for the delayed response. I think this is a good way to look at the ship, and is closer to canon than other things I have seen about them.

Yes, I agree that Gi-hun sees in-ho as a friend when he is Young-il.

I like how you bring up the jealousy and everything being the cause of the obsession (which is undeniable to me. he is absolutely obsessed with him in canon just not in the shipping way) I haven't thought a lot about how envious it would be for him to see how different they turned out.

I do also agree that In ho sees Gi-hun as weak for his morals. I think he wants to essentially teach him his ways, to maybe get him to be like him so that all of that envy goes away. he just has some very cruel and very homosexual methods. LMAO

I SO wish we could somehow get a universe where Gi-hun and past In-ho interact. That way we can have old man yaoi without the toxic nature for a change, even though that is what makes them so interesting.

People clown on shippers for shipping such a toxic ship that is essentially one sided as you mention, but thats the beauty of it. We don't necessarily find it pretty if they end up together. Sometimes we enjoy the one sided things because that's different from a typical romance. AND you can still enjoy it without getting as toxic/dark as possible.

You're right about everything anon. I wish I could say more but I am currently being hit with random exhaustion and you're really saying everything I am thinking lol.

[caffinated-squid]

i really liked your eltingville club character analysis’s!!! in the bill one you mentioned how bill was showing vulnerability in the intervention, do you think he was also showing vulnerability at the beginning of this fan this monster? considering how his friends weren’t around for him to belittle or reinforce his power to, i’d love to see an analysis from you for bills behavior in this fan this monster and how joe influenced bill. ty and keep up the good work!! <3

Thank you, happy that you enjoyed them! Regarding Bill in This Fan This Monster, I think it could be argued that it shows up a little bit in the beginning considering that Joe is probably the closest thing that Bill has had to a consistent father figure in his life. Focusing on this comic by itself, (the inclusion of the first comic makes it a bit more confusing) its mentioned in the hospital that his parents are divorced and while when it specifically happened is unclear, his presence is also absent in other Eltingville comics. (excluding the first) 

Bill’s mom probably did not play much of a role in his life as well, considering how much resentment they both have for each other, which can be seen though Bill’s mom preferring to get people to tie him up in a chair for hours to fix his comic obsession rather than just talking to him herself in The Intervention and accusing him of blaming her for the divorce in This Fan This Monster.

In summary, Bill is not on good terms with either of his parents and probably latched onto Joe because he appeared to care about similar interests. (though he just sees Bill more as a source of money rather than an actual person)

** From this, Joe probably influenced Bill's behavior the most since a lot of Joe's behavior seen in This Fan This Monster (saying customers have to be treated like idiots, that women don't actually like comics) reflected in Bill once Joe needs to leave for an emergency and in the Epilogue. (especially in his rant to Mandi)

** Though I don't think that Joe was someone that Bill would ever open up to regarding his personal life and issues, its idolization rather than an actual familial relationship at most

I would say that the beginning of the comic has a mixture of two things, Bill trying to appease and learn from Joe while looking up to him as somewhat of a father figure, but also constantly testing to see how much he can get away with, he is still just as willing to break rules if it means he has easier access to the things he wants. Though that appeasement definitely comes back in when he attempts to blame his friends for the destruction of the comic shop in order to still cling onto the power he just obtained.

On his friends not being around, I don’t think that Bill got better without them present. Although he is the leader of the Eltingville Club, Josh and Pete are there to constantly challenge his opinions which prevents his ego from going completely unchecked. With their absence, you can see Bill’s ego gradually become more inflated the more he is around Joe, getting worse when Joe temporarily puts him in charge. Joe ignores Bill a majority of the time aside from making fun of him for doing grunt work, which allows Bill to believe that he can get away with being an asshole because he now has a higher status, and with this higher status, he doesn’t need a friend group to control.

**I tend to see This Fan This Monster as Bills Icarus moment, in the sense that his ego rises over the comic only for it to come crashing down when he sets the comic shop on fire out of spite.

(Hopefully this answered your question/request! I have 2 other analysis essays I am going to write related to Eltingville, then I'll probably be done and focus on another topic of interest)

[wishful-thinking64]

HH & HB Worldbuilding Part #01

Worldbuilding, a beautiful and vital thing for all stories to have, is, for some reason, absent in the Hellaverse. Let’s change that.

_______________________

“When was Hell created?” ‣ I’ve decided to base Hell’s creation on how long the Earth has been around for which would mean that Hell was made around 4.5 billion years ago. I went this route because it makes the most sense from a logical and theological standpoint as God only made the Earth after he found out that Adam & Eve had disobeyed him by eating The Forbidden Fruit of Knowledge.

“How many Rings of Hell are there?” ‣ Usually there are only Seven Rings of Hell but I’m taking a page out of Dante’s Inferno for this and having there be Nine Rings instead. However, the order of these Nine Rings is rather different. First and foremost, one of the only things staying from the canon Hellaverse is that the Pride Ring is the very first Ring of Hell as I see it as the only Ring meant to house Sinners on account of the majority of humanities crimes stemming from the sin of Pride by believing that they are better than something else whether it be their fellow man, machine, or beast. As far as the other big Six Rings of Hell go after Pride it would be Lust in 2nd, Gluttony in 3rd, Sloth in 4th, Greed in 5th, Wrath in 6th, and Envy in 7th.

‣ That just leaves me with the 8th & 9th Rings which cannot be accessed via regular means (for instance, Hell’s Metro system for Hellborn citizens) or standard irregular means (like The Marked Alleyways in Pride that’s used by normal Hellborn citizens and Sinners alike.) The 8th Ring is known as The Ring of Treachery and very few know of its existence and even fewer are aware of the evil it holds. On the other hand, the Final Ring is one that every demon knows and fears as that’s where those found guilty in The Serpent’s Courtroom are forced to serve capital punishment (yes, there are things far worse than the death penalty in Hell) and go to suffer for the rest of eternity, in the Ring fittingly named, The Abyss. “What are the laws of Hell?” ‣ Obviously, if Hell has some kind of courtroom then there are some type of rules set in place. How said rules work differ depending on four major factors: which Ring you’re in, your place in Hell’s hierarchy, your race, and whether you’re a Hellborn citizen or not. Which doesn’t sound as bad as it could be until you take into consideration that Hellborn groups like Imps have to constantly be updated on and follow the laws in ALL Seven Rings, be "reminded" about their place in Hell by basically everyone around them, and overall be treated less than a Sinner would be because, “at least Sinners EARNED their right to be here.” The only Hellborn groups to have it worse than Imps are Half-Breeds (like Blitzø, Barbie, and Striker) as they’re expected to memorize DOUBLE the set of rules compared to everybody else and Hellhounds who have the most amount of rules while also having the least amount of freedoms thanks to them being often seen as pets or servants and nothing more. “Will the entirety of Hell be some various shades of red?” ‣ Short answer, no. Long answer, each of the Rings will be various shades of their specific Sin’s corresponding color. For example, the entire Pride Ring is going to be some tint or shade of purple. The only Rings I can’t really do this for are Lust, Treachery, and The Abyss. For the latter two it’s because they don’t exist in the traditional sense and as far as the Lust Ring goes, I’ll have to change the color to pink as Lust’s true signature color is blue however Sloth is light blue which means one of them has to change and I don't know about you but a blue Lust Ring just doesn't sound or look right to me.

_______________________

While I was doing this I hadn't realized just how much Vivziepop & Spindlehorse managed to accomplish NOT making Hell feel like Hell. Both Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are solely set in Hell for the sake of being edgy and so that one show can do the done to death trope of, "angels are the real bad guys," while the other show devolved into a convoluted melodrama.

With a story setting like Hell you, as the writer/director, have to understand that you can't just visually show the readers/viewers that this story could only be set in Hell but you also have to make them FEEL like it could ONLY be set in Hell. Viv somewhat grasps the visual aesthetic of Hell but she's completely lost on how to appeal to an even wider audience due to her shows failing to convince people that FEEL like either show truly takes place in Hell. There's no real ongoing suffering happening to the Sinners in Hazbin Hotel (I'm not counting Angel Dust and his problems because they've opted for him to have rushed and off screen character development) as the Extermination only happens once a year and with Helluva Boss, it REFUSES to go all in on depicting high class Hellborn citizens taking advantage of those beneath them in Hell's society (gee, I wonder why/s.) That aside, I hope that you liked the worldbuilding that I've come up with so far and before the day is over I'll probably make a post dissecting Chaggie and why they should've stayed as best friends like they were originally planned to be in HH before Viv changed her mind last minute. Happy Valentine's Day everybody!

[come-as-you-are-111]

Valentine in Simple Moments - Jun-Ho

Project Valentines Day - 6#

Warnings: nothing!

Hwang Jun-Ho was never one for big gestures. He was quiet, often preferring the simpler moments—like when he’d catch your eye in the middle of a conversation and send you that small, knowing smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

So when Valentine’s Day came around, you honestly weren’t expecting much. He wasn’t the type to make a show of his feelings, and you appreciated that about him. But when he mentioned meeting up after work, you were intrigued, wondering what he had planned.

The evening was crisp, the kind of cold that made you want to bundle up in layers. You met him outside the small convenience store near his apartment, feeling the anticipation build in the air. He was standing at the entrance, looking casual as usual, but there was something different about his demeanor tonight.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile. “Ready to go?”

You returned the smile, nodding. “Lead the way.”

Jun-Ho didn’t live in the most glamorous place—his apartment was small, modest, and simple. It didn’t have the usual trappings of luxury, but to you, it felt more real than any grand gesture ever could. As you entered, the small space felt warm despite its unassuming nature. There was a couch that had seen better days and a kitchen table that seemed to have a permanent place for takeout containers. Yet, it felt like home.

“I don’t have much,” he said, almost apologetically as he kicked off his shoes and motioned for you to sit on the couch. “But I thought we could spend the night here, just the two of us.”

You smiled, taking a seat on the couch. “This is perfect, Jun-Ho. It’s exactly what I needed.”

For the next few hours, you two spent the night in the comfort of his apartment. He made dinner, something simple—a homemade stir-fry that was surprisingly good considering the little you knew about his cooking skills. You ate together, chatting about everything and nothing, enjoying the simplicity of being in each other’s company.

You opened the box and found a small, leather-bound journal. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clearly something personal—a place for you to write, to document moments of your life.

“I know you like writing,” he added, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of the table. “So, I thought maybe you could use this. A place for your thoughts, your memories… whatever you want.”

You smiled, touched by the thoughtful gesture. “Jun-Ho, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile in return. “I’m glad you like it.”

The rest of the evening was spent curled up together on the couch. You talked, laughed, and even shared a quiet, comfortable silence. Eventually, the TV was turned off, and the two of you simply stared out the window at the twinkling lights of the city below.

It wasn’t the grand gestures or extravagant settings that made the night so special. It was the simple, intimate moments you shared—being together, knowing that in his small apartment, surrounded by nothing but the basics, you were both content.

As the night wore on, you found yourself nestled into his side, and without a word, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You stayed like that for a while, staring out at the stars from his modest apartment window, knowing that this Valentine’s Day, though simple, would be one of the most memorable.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? This is fic 6# of Project Valentines Day 2025! Hope you enjoy!

Love ya, Twilight

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[pine-needle-shuffle]

lets see how concisely I can describe my Woud feelings after 3 glasses of prosseco, lets GO (disclaimer, i'm pulling from both og and remake, k? k.)

What had really caught my attention, was the ease in which they saw past the walls they'd both set up around others.

Cloud plays himself off as aloof, uncaring, and kind of a dick. And part of him is really like that, he's always been distant, but he really plays it up. He really does care, and we see that come out more and more as he loses reasons to stay disconnected(think of him towards the kids in sector 5, ultimately giving in, albeit under that tough guise). He's pushing others away to keep himself safe, whether he knows that or not at this point, I don't know.

While Wedge doesn't hide himself so completely, in fact he wears much of himself on his sleeve, relies on the same amplification of specific traits. He's outgoing, friendly; the funny one. He doesn't treat himself too seriously, at least not outwardly. There's this sense of safety to this act, that it gives him a reason to why he's still around.

This defense they both share is also a severe draw back. The reputation they hold because of this self they present pigeon-holes them into roles that either reinforce their own anxieties, or if the mask were to slip, unravel their self entirely.

And once they're alone, there's this understanding. When Cloud goes back to Avalanche for the second mission, he says he doesn't care, it just the money, right? If Wedge is spoken to on the way out, he observes that cloud must care on some level, why else would he take the time to talk to him? Cloud seemed unnerved by this glaring hole in his facade.

Even beyond this, they both feel the pressure of feeling of not enough in their own eyes. Wedge voices it outright, he doesn't think he's truly enough for Avalanche, what weight does he pull? He doesn't see what he brings. Not that Cloud knows it now, but in the infantry? He was no one. A failure by his own standards. He thought he let everyone else down because of his own idea of who he should be, not who he is. It's self sabotage. And I think he recognizes it in how Wedge views his shortcomings.

And there's just something so appealing to the idea that someone can see something in you that you yourself haven't even seen. Neither truly see the full scope of good they do. Wedge sees how strong and capable Cloud is, with strength like that, who couldn't you help? Cloud sees how Wedge's compassion and attentiveness to those around him, the trust given to him seems to do a great good, doesn't it? They see in each other what they feel they lack, but that understanding has the potential to bring them so close together.

They mirror each other in a way I feel is really compelling.

[dykedvonte]

I dislike takes that Danse would be just as conservative in modernized aus when it's clearly shown his staunch views of things come from his time in the Brotherhood and his deep-rooted desire to belong to something with a greater purpose.

Not to mention lines that show much more open-mindedness that get overlooked for his harsher sentiments when you first meet him. Like the oppurtunity to be a part of something is why Danse fell so far into Brotherhood dogma and it doesn't negate the offense things he does but I feel like it's just lazy to be like "hmmm he'd def be racist" just so it aligns to his BoS beliefs.

[mechazushi]

If The Core Division Three Members Had Gaming Channels...

Kafka Hibino {A.K.A ComfyManGaming}: Mainly Shop Management Sims or just Sims in general. His most popular series and the one that let him go full time as a content creator was his Power Wash sim Story Time where he got to talk about the craziest things that happened to him in his, like, six different cleaning jobs. ( In order; Landscaper, personal maid service, High rise window washer [tied for origin for most of his craziest stories], Nuclear Power Plant Office janitor, Failed attempt at running his own power wash service, and School Janitor with a car detail side job. {Most recent/longest held job/and also tied for craziest story origin generator with Car Detail Horror stories being second). Can be convinced to play atmospheric games like Journey/Abzu/Fire Watch/Anything thought provoking or emotional.

Reno Ihchikawa{A.K.A IchyChill Breakdowns}: Whatever Windette does, but with less insults. Basically Build Breakdowns and Speedrun Tutorials. Carried with the energy of a tired Indian Math teacher trying to teach calculus to 8th graders. Is also [technically] a PNG tuber, but because he's low energy, the PNG doesn't move much.

Iharu Haruichi {A.K.A SharkBAIT}: Two Channels. One is a horror game channel, Both Indi and Triple A. The other is anything casual, but mainly sticks to Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, Coral Island, that sort of thing. Fans like to call the Horror one Anxiety and the non-horror one Anti-Anxiety(Each have their own mascots and like to fight each other like Jacksepticeye and Antisepticeye). He has absolutely accidentally cross posted horror vids onto the non horror channel and vice-versa. The community like to pretend that they don't interact with the other channels and when that sort of thing happens, they pretend they've been exposed to horrors beyond comprehension. (yes, even when the horror channel gets a cutesy vid)

Mina Ashiro{ A.K.A Can(n)onGodess/Pr3ttyW1ttl3K1tty}: Also Two channels, but actively makes sure that no one knows she runs both. One is a live stream of FPS set up as no-commentary/with camera (Mainly colorful ones like Valorant). The other is also no commentary with NO camera and its Sim 3 or 4 tips-and-tricks and Minecraft Aesthetic House Build (Mod and No Mod.)

Kikrou Shinomya:{A.K.A Can_It_Doom?} A STEM major that couldn't find a use for her degree as fast as she liked, so she started a Can it Run Doom? channel as a joke, and now it's evolved into a channel where people recommend different setups like Drumset Controler on a Texas TI-84 Graphing Calculator. (Is also currently in the middle of working on a live action Tank Setup for World of Tanks as a subscriber goal.)

Hoshina Soshiro{A.K.A SwordSingerSUPREME} Any game that involves sword fighting and critiques it either Accurately or HARSHLY. Also streams his HEMA training/tournaments. It's very popular (because everyone find him hot) and has since become a bit of an eclectic channel that is split between his Gaming vids, his HEMA vids, and P.O Box unboxing vids where people send him A LOT of gifts. There's also an over an hour video of him playing Let's Hit Each Other With Fake Swords the Card Game with his older brother (who is also in HEMA.) that he made when the channel hit 5 million subscribers.

✨Bonus✨

Gen Narumi{A.K.A xXGenNarumi420Xx}: Plays anything that's currently trending, but his bread and butter is FPS or Run and Guns. (Has confessed to saying "Would" to the Ultrakill Robot.)

Okonogi Konomi{A.K.A BlossomBear}: Indi VTuber that plays exclusively Indi Puzzle games or Puzzle Platformers. Isn't a singing VTuber so much as one that can and will go in-depth on programming and what goes into a VTube model (She made hers and it has two forms : a chibi, curly white haired, anthro bear girl and a white plushi version with orange blossom motifs.) Can and has demonstrated to be an absolute GOD at Minesweeper

Minase{A.K.A MinAction}: A anime/movie/Western Animation reaction channel. Has an uncanny habit of predicting things before they should be obvious.

Hakua{A.K.A HakuaKooksXP} A cooking channel whose shtick is 1000 Ways To Prepare [Insert Food Here.]. She's still currently working her way through rice.

Haruichi Izumo {Goes by his name} Various product review channel.

Aoi Kaguragi {Also goes by his name} A very well made workout channel.

[puppppppppy]

Atla live action 😐

[dairyfreenugget]

I could count the amount of original stories of mine that don't have horror elements on one hand and idk what that says about me

[pinacoladamatata]

something something down by the river

yeah i could draw something other than two characters gazing at each other with utter heartsick longing but I know what i'm about son

[tommygotwrittenoff]

sooooo fucked up that eddie and buck are not kissing rn. instead they have to go through more horrors. and they dont even have the option to kiss each other to make it better. fr praying for them. you will be kissing soon kings!!!

[chialattea]

Lol, my Hawke is also the bottom in her relationship with Bela (it just makes sense to me) and they do commit crimes together but she tends to be more blue/diplomatic. Is yours sarcastic? And what exactly is their dynamic like?

OH MY GOD I JUST SAW THISN HFGVFYU

I forgot tumblr asks were a thing,, thank god i started fucking around and clicked the correct button.

Bottom Hawke enjoyers unite!!!! I just think it's especially funny considering theyre quote unquote the leader of the group, so thinking of them as actually losers who are just winging it makes me so happy.

My Hawke is mostly a purple/sarcastic hawke. She's mostly quite laid back and easygoing because she's allergic to taking things seriously and/or confronting her issues, which bites her in the ass as the story progresses. She'd rather die than let people know she has feelings other than funny one-liners. She's loud and rash, but somehow things keep working out for her... Until they dont. They really come crashing down. Behind her chronic class clown facade is someone with a very set personal moral code. She genuinely cares for her friends and has a surprisingly high EQ, which is why the kirkwall gang hasnt devolved into beating each other senseless. At first glance she seems flaky and unreliable, but she's relentless when it comes to that she thinks as her responsibilities: her family, her friends, and for some fucking reason the city of Kirkwall (she really, really wishes she hadnt gotten attached god fucking damnit, its a dumpster but its HER dumpster). Those are the only three subjects you'll see her getting serious about. Other than that she values freedom quite highly and doesn't really care about the big picture or politics. She's more of a small-scale, act local kind of gal.

At first Isabela and her get along like a house on fire; they love partying, they love drinking, Isabela finds Hawke's smartass attitude hilarious and Hawke finds really attractive how Isabela can steal shit without being found out. The problems start when Hawke's sense of responsibility and morals start to show up. It's not like Hawke has any issue with Isabela doing whatever she wants, she's a "live and let live" kind of person, but,,, even if Hawke presents herself as an unrepentant clown, she's anything but. She wants to help to a self-sacrificing degree, refuses to engage with her own needs and has little sense of self-preservation. She's careless yet also keeps prioritizing everyone else before herself, which infuriates Isabela. They begin a situationship which is supposed to be purely physical, but Hawke gets attached yet refuses to admit it, even to herself; Isabela finds Hawke's newfound moral righteousness grating and makes her feel judged for her choices. Basically miscommunications galore. They have a big fight where neither of them actually listen to each other and refuse to be emotionally vulnerable.

And yet both of them come back for the other in their time of need, regardless and even in spite of their positions because no matter what they actively choose to love each other,, does that make sense? After the second act both of them decide their relationship is worth the trouble of,, working through their issues together and trying to better themselves. As everything around Hawke and Kirkwall start crashing down their relationship becomes their solace. It's hard, and they fuck up a lot, but they choose to make it work and actively care for their relationship.

Yeah but anyways, my Hawke is also a bumbling idiot with enough charisma to compensate it. She has fucked before but blushes like a maiden the second she sees Isabela's ankle. She's the "me and the bad bitch i pulled with my whimsical rizz" meme. Isabela is like hawke no and shes like hawke YESSSSS she's a golden retriever. if i had to choose a character she's most similar to it'd be gideon i guess.

TLDR; hawke: "isabela i taped myself to the ceiling but now i cant get down can you handfeed me some hot pockets" isabela: "why do i find this attractive"