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lovrre · 6 months ago

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Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson x black reader #Art Donaldson x black female #art donaldson x female reader

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galactic-rhea · 10 months ago

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WDYM Anakin is Luke and Leia's dad

I dunno if this post will reach the Star Wars fandom but I hope it does because I'm sure you all will get a good laugh at me.

As of recent I have developed a good hiperfixation for Star Wars, the thing is I knew nothing. NOTHING about Star Wars besides the fact it had aliens and...a war...in space? And funny swords. And main character is Luke or something, I spent over 20 years ignoring anything about Star Wars and somehow missing most references out there.

And recently, literally less than a month ago I saw a gif and said to my partner "oh this guy this guy looks cool, this gif looks nice" and he said "Oh well, he's a good character." And it all developed into me watching Clone Wars, the animated series you know and...and I was kinda blown away, on my opinion the show IS GREAT. And I love every character and their interactions, I love how much they focus on side characters, and they all seem very well written. I got hiperfixated really fast and saw Anakin and I was like "Omg, babygirl. He's a blorbo now."

And because of the show, this was super unexpected, but somehow I also got, really got, into the ship with Padmé because omg, cool woman. Literal happy squeaky noises of someone who was in a bad state and needed some good ol' distraction and comfort.

Now, like I said I knew nothing about Star Wars as a whole. And I still haven't watched the movies, besides the ocassional gif?

So imagine my shock, my surprise, my...bewilderment when I realized.

"Wait a minute, LUKE IS ANAKIN'S SON?! HOLY-"

Ladies, gentleman, and others, I think I came very late to this party and I don't even know how it took me so long.

Not only that, but because of this sudden love for the series, I went to my friends circle like "BESTIE, GUESS WHAT, I HAVE A NEW BLROBO AND A NEW FAV SHIP AND EEEP"

And my friends are like "omg that's amazing, what is it?"

I tell them, and of course they all know these characters and they all react like they know this very bad secret fact and I got told several times already "Please, don't watch the episodes 2 and 3 alone, it will hurt."

I feel like blissfully walking among rainbows and blue skies while everyone else know that my future is doomed. Somehow.

(Uncomfortable silence)

Not only that, but then I spent a whole deal of time thinking "Where the heck I have seen these guys" cus there was some fmailiarity I couldn't just point out and then one day I woke up, brushed my teeth and of all sudden I realized and it was such a shock.

Do you know how SURREAL is to get very into a character, and into a ship, and then realize they're the same from that super widespread meme that has been around for who knows how much time?

I swear I thought that meme was from some old medieval fantasy movies or something.

But alas, Star Wars now is EVERYWHERE. People do references to Star Wars ALL THE TIME and it's just now I'm catching them.

I got spoilers. From a meme. In a youtube review that had nothing to do with Star Wars hah. Everything is a spoiler, the world is an apparent spoiler. Now I'm here, trying to avoid spoilers from something everyone seems to know, even my family knows. It's so surreal and I wouldn't have it any other way 😂

Anyways, if you read until here, know that a wild ride still waits me, cuz I'm only starting Season 3 of Clone Wars and I don't plan to watch the movies until I finish the series.

And yes, I made this blog just to ramble freely about SW and draw stuff because it sparked my inspiration after a long art block.

Have this doodle I drew after watching the two first episodes, my offering for you reaching this far.

Note: Wouldn't Anakin and Padmé's ship name be Animé? Cuz that's hilarious.

#rambling #star wars #star wars fandom #anakin skywalker #darth vader #the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #tcw fanart #clone wars

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bluegiragi · 7 months ago

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I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

#there. the entire sequence of events

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felassan · 1 year ago

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Article: 'Laid-Off Dragon Age Testers Will Picket BioWare'

Unionized ex-Keywords devs won the right to protest, against EA's wishes

Excerpt:

"Former quality assurance testers who worked on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf are preparing to picket outside Bioware’s Edmonton offices after being laid off earlier this year. Electronic Arts tried to block the protest but the developers prevailed in a ruling by the Alberta Labour Relations Board in Canada. BioWare laid off 50 employees in August, including some longtime developers whose tenure goes back to the beginning of the Dragon Age series. It also cut its contract with Keywords Studios, which was supplying quality assurance testers on in-development sequel Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. Those same testers had unionized just a year earlier. Last month, they were laid off from Keywords as well, with the outsourcing company blaming it on the loss of the BioWare contract. Now, as first reported by Game Developer, those former Dragon Age testers say they’re planning to picket outside BioWare’s office on November 7 around noon. They are demanding that Keywords reinstate them and continuing bargaining their first contract, calling the layoffs earlier this year a “union busting tactic.” But Keywords doesn’t have any offices in Alberta so they are going to BioWare instead. EA was apparently far from happy about the decision. The publisher tried to force the laid-off developers to take their protest elsewhere, noting that, as fully remote staff, they never technically worked inside BioWare’s Edmonton office. Instead, EA tried to convince the Alberta Labour Relations Board to make them picket outside their homes. The regulators were unmoved, ultimately siding with the workers. “We view this Labor Board ruling as a huge win for not just us, but remote workers everywhere in Canada,” former Keywords tester James Russwurm told Game Developer. “Workers can now go ‘oh, I can picket my employer’s offices downtown even though I didn’t work in the office.’” The ex-testers had been contracted to work at BioWare beginning during the pandemic, first on Mass Effect Legendary Edition and later on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. When BioWare moved to force staff back into the office, the group successfully unionized to try and keep their remote status and improve pay. The Keywords developers were laid off before they could finish bargaining their first contract. EA said at the time that it had previously renewed its contract with Keywords and not doing so in September had nothing to do with the group unionizing. But the publisher has never made clear why it cut staff on a highly anticipated game like Dreadwolf that is still deep in development following several reported internal delays. EA and BioWare did not immediately respond to a request for comment."

[source] [the referenced Game Developer article] [more on the Keywords topic]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #video games #longpost #long post #covid mention #reposted with fixed links sry!

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foxprism · 9 months ago

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Hello gamers, finally posting again after three months lmao. Had another art block again and several bigger assignments for uni to do, what's new. But here's a new Steddie piece :>. Drew this for a fanfic of one of my favorite ao3 authors + tumblr mutual @wynnyfryd called "i don't know, you figure it out", which you can find on here under the tag #trailer park steve au and on ao3 (It's so good, if you like steddie you gotta read it)! Had a lot of fun planning Ed's tattoos here heh

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bendyartistic · 4 months ago

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Be aware of alexbstudios.

Over the course of what I believe a few months maybe, Alex has been harassing me with strange behavior and as of recent hurtful remarks too. He's been bothering other people as well from what I've seen. Probably going to say I should've just blocked him, but I wanted to keep an eye on things just in case. Today was the point in time after everything that I realized I should let people know about this kid.

I want to show from the beginning to present time of the interactions he's done with me. And maybe something can be done about getting him off the platform...

Firstly I want to say Alex has admitted to being 12 years old... apparently. I know this from this reblog. This already is a very large red flag. Considering the young age, no a callout doesn't seem right but I still want to warn people regardless since he's still active on the platform.

Though I am uncertain if this is true, he did not confirm nor deny my question about it.

Now lets get to the start of things. I don't like people reposting my art anywhere without credit, surely that can be said for everyone.

Randomly in May Alex reposted my art, no credit, mention of who made it, or where it came from. I should mention Alex had been following me well before this post, so he knew who I was. Rightfully I responded with a request to take it down as I didn't appreciate this.

Upon making this request he made a small complaint about it, which was unneeded. While he did "delete" the post, it still technically there, just edited. Therefore never officially removed like I had asked.

He also uploaded two other drawings I did, but he did not remove those ones.

Not too long ago on a post I made showcasing my Chris model, as it had been a while since I posted it, and I wanted to let people see it.

Alex later said some... questionable things about it. And it really made me uncomfortable to say the least.

For context in my AU, my Chris is 29. This has been stated before a few times.

I want to get to the biggest thing here however, as this is what drove me to make this post. The consistent weird and hateful DM's he has sent me.

I have told Alex to leave me alone on several different occasions and he has refused to do so. Again I know I should've blocked but as I said, just wanted to wait in case. Truth is I don't like blocking people, never have, I feel weird doing it. But anyways Alex made a poll a week ago if I recall correctly of whether or not he should keep or delete his account. The poll won on keep. No sooner did this happen, Alex was in my DM's bothering me about it after I again told him to leave me alone.

The DM's are as followed with context and info:

He responded with something along the lines of "Then my account would become lost media!" to which I only responded "No one really cares."

Next post is where Alex starts to mock me for being slow with my replies. I don't quite understand what speed he expects me to write my replies at, I guess 5 seconds?

So as you have noticed Alex is now making fun of my autism, and it's going to continue in this unfortunately. Bringing up a disability in an argument should not happen. However at some point Alex accused me of creating alts to vote against his poll, I have none.

I'm not sure why me specifically... and I hate how me being "slow" keeps getting brought up. Also racism is somehow brought into this as well.

He spammed me with the same image repeatedly, and it continued for a while. Passing that, he wanted me to run the same poll he did on if I should keep or delete my account. I obviously declined.

He then blocked me after this.

Alex in the past DM'd me, when he made those remarks about my Chris model. I wasn't happy then and I'm still not about it.

I'm still puzzled as to why he calls being blocked as banned. Besides that this comes to the end of the DM ark. Alex has done other things, such as suggest people to draw strange stuff, edited other peoples work, steal other peoples work, and tried to stir up drama at one point.

In conclusion,

Alex is immature. And should not be here, especially this fandom. But in general he should not be online, it is clear he has unlimited access to whatever he wants.

I am sorry to my friends and others who have had to deal with him. That is all I have to say.

Any questions or whatnot is fine. Reblogs are appreciated in order to spread the word.

#ghost and pals #call out post #be aware #idk what to tag this as #Please dni with Alex.#You are not obligated to listen to me but this is just an awareness post.#my post

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chiscribbs · 1 year ago

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Updated Future Donnie Concept Art!!!

So, I've been hesitant to try my hand at designing an Apocalyptic Future version of Donnie for a while, for a number of reasons - mainly that I just didn't have a clear idea of him in my brain yet and the thought of attempting to update his already pretty perfect design was highly daunting - but I finally caved and decided to take a crack at it. A couple months and several revisions later, I'm actually genuinely happy with the result. I'd still consider this "concept art" more so than a final design, elements of it could definitely be improved, but I really do like the concept as a whole - I think it could work!

The main goals I had in mind while working on this were: A. Must fit the character/look like something Donnie would canonically wear and still be easily recognizable. B. Must work in the Rise world & style (i.e. not be overly detailed or have too complex a silhouette.) C. Must fit in with the other (canonical) Future Rise designs.

I was also thinking about what problems Donnie might be trying to solve, which is what inspired the belt (more info on that below). All-in-all, although there might still be a few kinks to work out, I think I managed to come up with a pretty solid base design for my favorite Warring Warrior Scientist (Jr.)

Some additional character tidbits under the cut.

Also, I can't draw mechanisms to save my life, so just pretend those vague ninpo-gun-things make sense lol

Donnie has a mechanical prosthetic leg. How'd he lose that leg? Up to interpretation - my working theory is that it was a minefield accident that occurred when he was trying to blow some Krang dogs to Timbuktu. Naturally, since it's Donnie and they are in the midst of an alien apocalypse, he designed the leg to do a whole lot more than just help him stand without falling down. It's a multifunctional tool that contains a plethora of secret uses - including, but certainly not limited to, sawing off ugly Krang faces. It's essentially his new tech bo.

Bonus leg tidbit: Casey Jr. saw him deploy the saw blade in battle once when he was little, he then proceeded to beg for a saw-leg of his own to fight the Krang with. Donnie, realizing that amputating a perfectly healthy child's leg is probably not that most morally acceptable option, instead made him his own "sawing stick"(AKA, his motorized hockey stick)...which the others then made him wait until Casey's 10th birthday to give him.

The belt that Donnie's wearing here is a prototype of his latest invention. Its intended purpose: to deflect the Krang's mystic-blocking attacks, allowing them to use their ninpo in close combat. It took a lot of risk-taking to collect the necessary information to create such a device, and he experienced a number of way-too-close calls (one of which may or may not have resulted in that large gash across his plastron), but he finally managed to crack the code and pinpoint the frequency of the Krang's sound waves. He's testing it out right now to make sure that it works and is safe to use, but once it's out of beta, he plans to mass-produce them for every mystic-wielder in the Resistance to use in battle. He believes it could turn the tides of the war...unfortunately, the device never makes it out of beta, as he dies before its completion.

Donnie's gloves are fashioned after the ones his dad used to wear in his Lou Jitsu days (with some modifications, for comfort and to make working with screens a little easier and less annoying.) The material they're made out of is far more durable, of course, since he's working with them near-constantly and under varying conditions. But maybe he designed them to look like this as a way of keeping his dad's memory close, similar to Leo's sword hilt?

Ironically, Donnie uses his ninpo probably the most consistently out of all the brothers (even though Mikey uses his to the greatest extent, hence his rapid aging). He's constantly using it to check on the base's security status and multitask while working on other projects. Because his ninpo takes a good deal of brain power to operate, it puts a significant amount of strain on his nervous system and this causes frequent complications. Seizures, spasms, and blackouts become a semi-regular occurrence - especially in the latter part of his life. Donnie does his best to manage them, but the workload makes it almost impossible to do so properly. Mikey is able to help with these attacks when they happen, but Donnie - not wanting his brother to overuse his powers any more than he is already - usually opts to just ride it out and save the mystic healing for people who need it. The exception to this rule being when he's in the middle of an extremely important procedure and can't stop long enough to let the attack pass naturally, then he has no choice but to accept Mikey's aid.

This is probably needless to say at this point, but much like Leo and his other brothers, he is a giant. Equal in height to Leo (if not slightly taller, even without the goggles.) The doodle in the top-left corner of the sketch page where he's next to April is meant to be them sitting, so don't take it as anywhere near an accurate representation of their height comparison. It is not, he dwarfs her by several feet, lol.

#rottmnt #donatello hamato #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #future donnie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt future timeline #tw: amputation #Sort of. You don't see anything but if half a leg freaks you out best not to look.#fanart #concept art #character design #chiscribbs #Heavily referenced Krang because Idk how to draw them yet WOOTWOOT

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citrussnap · 1 year ago

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OH MY GOD hey y’all!!! sorry for not posting any art for a whole month I got severely art blocked and shit lmao

ANYWAY here’s some sketches of goth Bigby and Snow!!! I ended up revisiting an old drawing of Bigby last year and I decided to redesign him a little 👍

It was supposed to be just for fun originally, but then it eventually ended up becoming a whole au thing where Bigby has a double life of being the sheriff, but on his off days he is secretly goth and frequents a lot of Fabletown’s goth clubs!

He was introduced to the whole subculture during an investigation in a goth club, after a while he notices the music and the way people were dressed around him and he became really fascinated by all of it, pretty sure you know what happens afterwards lol

Eventually Snow founds out about it and is confused at first but ends up loving the music and also developing the style as well along side Bigby!

(also thanks to my friend @elesketchii for basically helping me out with a lot of the ideas this silly little au idea thing with me, they also contributed by drawing the corporate goth Snow which I also drew myself alongside it :D)

#I WOULD WRITE MORE ABOUT THIS BUT I’M TOO LAZY #the wolf among us #the wolf among us 2 #twau #twau 2 #twau fanart #bigby wolf #twau bigby #snow white #twau snow white #fables comic #fables comics #telltale games #goth #80s goth #my art #digital art #fanart

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foureyedfella · 23 days ago

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☆I've gotten the case of a little art block so I'm sharing my headcanons on what I think the biggest injuries each fighter has had (apart from bring in the ring!)

Glass Joe

☆man what hasn't happened to Joe it's hard to pinpoint his biggest injury 😭 his biggest was probably a combo: twisting his ankle and then falling down the stairs due to said ankle. While trying to get him on a leveled area, Disco Kid and Bear Hugger drop him (butter fingers). Several bones broken and a concussion 😞

Von Kaiser

☆ Prank gone wrong.

☆ His students tried setting up like a Kevin McCallister home alone prank, miscalculated how bad the punching bag would swing, sent Kaiser FLYING-

☆If anyone wonders why the boxing schools' water fountain is snapped off the wall, it was him

☆ Dislocated his jaw, and if he is still or resting he can still feel the lower back pain from the incident 💀

Disco Kid

☆ He was in a paired up dancing competition, and his partner was NOT locked in 🙏

☆ During the climax of the dance, Disco Kid needed to spin mid air and get caught by his partner. His partner did not catch him.

☆Cracked his skull, but was more upset to find out they would have made it to qualifiers if it weren't for the infraction

King Hippo

☆Rogue Coconut.

☆This in itself isn't terrible, but it KEPT happening on the same spot on his noggin.

☆Severe concussion, can still hear the coconut conk when its quiet.

Piston Hondo

☆ He is honestly pretty careful and mindful when doing stuff so he probably has not had anything catastrophic happen to him

☆Unfortunately his carefulness does not account for those around him. He was caught in the Bear Hugger Fishing Fiasco.

Bear Hugger

☆The Fishing Fiasco.

☆Was on a fishing trip with Hondo, decided to try to get all fancy with his cast.

☆To be fair, the motion of his fishing line was cool- unfortunately a badly timed sharp swing while the fishing hook was still swinging behind him sent the hook straight across their backs

☆Both got stitches done

Great Tiger

☆ To the surprise of no one it would be Aran to cause his demise 💀

☆ He was doing an eye coordination test on Aran with his clones, with the goal being that Aran can still spot him after shuffling between the clones.

☆What he did NOT expect was for Aran to just lunge at him AND his clones at once, safe to say he found the real Great Tiger

☆Fractured neck, for the 2 months he wore a neck brace, he made sure to not leave Aran alone about it

Don Flamenco

☆ His heart 😢 por Carmen 😢

☆I'm lying, he was drunk one night doing the bachata on a flimsy table, it quite literally folded on him

☆ Everyone was too drunk to take anyone anywhere, so he just woke up the next morning in agony 😭

Aran Ryan

☆ Tried getting into a classic bar fight like he was back in the grand city of Dublin at the pub, except he's not and he was in America

☆Definitely got shot, but it grazed him so he clowned the guy on his way out for not getting the job done right, passed out after the adrenaline rush

Soda Popinski

☆ Also incredibly drunk one night, decided to put his juggling skills to the test with more and more stupid objects

☆ Curse whoever recommended him knives because he did just that

☆Several hand stitches, claims they're from boxing so he doesn't have to bring up how he actually got them

Bald Bull

☆ Early in his career when he was setting his persona straight, his manager was pretty adamant on having bull tied into it

☆ Did this really need to involve actual charging bulls at him? No, not at all. Was he doing pretty good wrangling them? Yeah honestly but you can only do so much with so many bulls

☆ Got rammed. Broken ribs, and a fired manager

Super Macho Man

☆ Unironically got into a "how much you bench bro" squabble with some other meathead at the gym

☆ He did NOT have the physique he has now so idk what he was thinking actually

☆ Tore his chest muscles, devastated that he ruined his precious pecs 😞

Sandman

☆ Actively chooses to gatekeep this information. Never shares it

☆ (but between you and me, he absolutely snapped his arm in an arm wrestling competition when he was younger.)

☆ It took way too long to heal and it pisses him off when he thinks about it now

☆ Little side note, but the punch out community has been so awesome here, I was surprised to find such a nice community when I started posting you guys have been so awesome 😁

☆ I love that everyone has such differing opinions from eachother and we're all like "👍" I love hearing everyone's headcanons

#punchout #punch out

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

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AITA for attacking someone on Artfight? I am female, 31. There's this event called Artfight in which you can draw people's ocs as a ways of making points for your team. I've been participating in Artfight since Tea vs. Coffee and haven't had a problem until last Artfight.

I typically prefer to attack using the random character button and I found a really cute character that was someone's sona that was a dog. It had really nice colors that mixed well with my fursona's colors so I checked their permissions to see if they were okay with their characters/sonas being drawn with others. They were! They even encouraged and really wanted interactions of their characters or sonas with other people's characters or sonas. What caught my eye was that they also encouraged speciesswap too which I thought was cool. My sona is a pooltoy dog so I thought it'd be cool if I speciesswapped their sona to be a pooltoy too! I drew up the attack and posted it, but even after a few days they never commented on it. I noticed they commented on other attacks they got after mine so I thought they had missed it, alright no big deal. I'm not attacking for comments, I'm attacking for fun. Well, I attacked them again later in the month since I had time and I had saved another character of theirs earlier since it was part of a closed species I was apart of, but when I went to submit I realized they had blocked me. I know block evading is wrong now and shouldn't have bothered after realizing but I didn't know at the time, so I contacted them on tumblr to ask what was up if they were upset with me. They called me a proshipper and a freak and a pedo, saying I was disgusting for that attack. I was very confused and upset, so I asked what was wrong with it to see if I could fix it and they said I'm a freak for making fetish art of their sona when it's personal to them and they have stated in their permissions absolutely no fetish content since they're a minor.

Here's where I believe I am the asshole. It is true I do have a pooltoy fetish, but you have to search outside of my Artfight profile to find it. Even so, I keep my NSFW pooltoy work to one outside profile, everything else I ever draw outside of that specific profile, my pooltoy artwork is completely SFW. And I will add their age was not listed anywhere on their Artfight page but even then the art I made was not meant to be fetishic nor did I think it would come off as so? It was just two pooltoy animals having fun. Even so, they told me they reported the attack as soon as they realized, said a few more nasty things to me then blocked my tumblr. I began to think I may have been the asshole as a few people I know have said I should prepare in case that kid and their friends make a PSA on me which is making me think this may have been more severe then I'm thinking it was.

So tl;dr, I have a pooltoy fetish, I drew me and this person's sonas as pooltoys as an Artfight attack since it wasn't against their permissions, and they even encouraged it. They then called me a freak, blocked me and reported my attack. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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stranger-opinions · 2 months ago

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maybe it's not a writers-block; maybe you just need a break

creativity is a muscle, right?

you need to exercise it to keep it in good shape, to have it ready when you need it and don't we all love those hyperfocused sprints of writing where the words just spill out of our fingertips...

but muscles get sore when you overuse them, will strain when you force them past their limits, they need nourishment to stay healthy and in shape

fandom today has a competitive atmosphere. many wouldn't admit that; it's supposed to be fun after all. just vibing with our mutuals, playing with the blorbos having a fun time online to scratch a few itches.

but the truth is that it can become a lot of pressure rather fast.

putting out several k of (edited) writing a month, setting up painstakingly formatted posts with the right tags and a fun header we spent hours on to look effortlessly cool and eye-catching just to hit post and then feel... nervous. excited too, sure...

but damn, when will the next chapter be finished? or the next one shot? will there be enough time to put a few blubs in between so that the few people who actually seem to care won't forget about us and move on?

writing for writing's sake is a nice notion. the myth of the self-sustaining artist who needs nothing more than a passion and their tools of choice.

but shit isn't just created out of nothing.

what has that all to do with the title of this post do you ask?

very few people can just keep going and going making art like that without needing any breaks and a good portion of those people very likely have very different conditions than most of us have with full-time jobs, families, school and so on.

For many of us writing is a main outlet, an important hobby and a safe space but that still doesn't change that it is a creative hobby, an outlet that demands energy: emotional, mental and physical (typing for hours is hard work if you want to believe it or not) and that sometimes makes it impossible to accept that we just need a fucking break.

"writers-block", in my own experience, is my brain telling me that something is off and that it's on strike until I fucking fix that.

and sometimes it's just that I need a break.

that I need to recharge my creative batteries, take in things that inspire me, that make me happy and get me excited without having to make anything myself. to just be. take some walks amongst trees, watch a new series, read a new book, go into a deep dive of some random topic on wikipedia until I don't know where the fuck I started from.

sometimes I just need to log out, cut the overstimulation of a never ending dashboard, turn off what everybody else on tumblr is doing, how much everbody is putting out, get away from my frustration about "my flopped fic" or the latest fandom drama and reconnect with the real reason I am doing this.

the love for stories and the source material.

for some people those breaks can be as short as two days, for other is might be weeks or months and that is not only okay but totally normal.

sometimes you might realize that the reason you are not writing is that you actually don't want to. sometimes you just want to daydream without the extra work sometimes you're just not in a writing mood and it's not much deeper than that.

that doesn't have to mean you're done with your blorbos. it just means that there are more valid and fun ways to play with them.

don't worry, the fandom will still be there when you decide to pick up the keyboard again. maybe with less people, maybe with many different people but you will always find someone who cares. those who have moved on to different things not come back wouldn't likely have stayed if you had powered through.

fandom shouldn't be a you're in or you're out thing but a place you come to when you want to.

contentification of fandom has had a lot of negative effects on the way we create and so many people fade from their hobby because they simply burn themselves out to a point where it leaves a scar.

so. find something that makes you happy that does not require you to invest too much creational energy. rest those muscles as long as it takes.

nothing you can get on tumblr or ao3 is worth the sore brain, the frustration with yourself and the stress you add onto your mental health ontop of everything else in your life.

recharge, reevaluate, reconnect

have fun

#fandom discourse #fandom problems #writers block #fandom #fanfiction #fanfiction writers

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cafeinthemoon · 6 months ago

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It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road

Oh, how far you are from home”

(Enya, May it Be)

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well.

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them.

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work.

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject.

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here.

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family.

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him.

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now?

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight.

You frowned.

Next big step? What is he talking about?…

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it.

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week.

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man.

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown.

– Don’t you have anything to say about this?

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response.

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you?

Your father clenched his jaw.

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but…

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men?

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you.

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process.

You sighed.

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly?

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more!

You scoffed.

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father?

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that.

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it.

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter.

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word.

***

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore?

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before?

You sighed at the thought.

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this.

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back.

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right?

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear.

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage.

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence.

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road.

***

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract.

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this.

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband.

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding.

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men.

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into…

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper.

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back.

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side.

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so.

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it.

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone.

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now.

***

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment.

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time.

— Why are you doing this?

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer.

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent.

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there.

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor.

You were just waiting for the travel to end.

Chapter 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #kny rengoku #shinjuro rengoku #rengoku shinjuro #shinjuro x reader #shinjuro rengoku x reader #rengoku shinjuro x reader

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notakugelblitz · 3 months ago

Text

YOUR SONG • THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (season 1)

Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Viktor

just imagine these songs being in the OST and playing during those “scenes” ;) you’re number 8 btw. english isn’t my first language so sorry if you spot any mistake. enjoy ☂️

LUTHER

/ your power : telepathy /

"I'm going to miss you..." "I'll miss you too..."

Against his broad chest, you held back your tears as his hand gently caressed your scalp.

"We'll talk every night, won't we?" "I promise..."

You pulled away and looked at him for a long time. He fixed his gaze on your lips, weighing the pros and cons of his intentions. Just as he was about to close the distance between you, your father burst into the room.

"It's time to go, Number 1. Clear out, Number 8, this isn't the time to distract him."

Luther finally planted a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you breathless, a terrible frustration swelling within you.

Days, months, and years passed. Every night, you would retreat to the roof to gaze at the moon, talking to Luther thanks to your telepathy ability. You often fell asleep first, and Grace would come to cover you with a blanket when the nights grew a bit chilly. Luther loved to hum a song, Flares, as if to remind himself that you would always be there for him, sending him out flares.

DIEGO

/ your power : see the future /

A soft light filtered into the gymnasium's basement. A faint music coming from upstairs woke you up. You grumbled and stormed up the stairs. Wearing nothing but an old t-shirt belonging to your brother—and, incidentally, your boyfriend (no, thankfully, it’s not incest)—you flung the door open and saw Diego dancing with a mop in the ring. You burst out laughing, which made him jump.

"Am I dreaming, or are you laughing at me?"

You tried to respond, but tears were welling up in the corners of your eyes. Bent over with laughter, you suddenly felt warm droplets splash across your face: he had just splashed you with the mop. You stared at him for a long moment and jumped on the ring trying to catch him.

A wild fight ensued, in rhythm with the music, with the floor becoming extremely slippery due to the water. You delivered several kicks at him, which he blocked with the broomstick. It was a fight worthy of a Bruce Lee movie. Since both of you were very skilled in martial arts (and because you could anticipate each of his moves thanks to your power of visualizing the near future), you lowered your guard to let him win for once. Diego grabbed you by the waist, and you both tumbled near the entrance.

You ended up on top of each other, just like in all those wonderful clichés. Just as Number 2 was about to kiss you, the boss of the place stormed in. He flew into a rage and rushed toward the radio. Unfortunately, he slipped and crashed face-first onto the floor, making you both burst out laughing. Well... you had to clean up everything afterward, and in silence. Still, those moments of total hilarity were and still are the best ...

ALLISON

/ your power : water manipulation /

Having become a renowned actress, Allison traveled extensively. As for Patrick, he worked a lot. You were the perfect candidate to look after Claire. Having left the Umbrella Academy at the same time as your sister, you were inseparable, and whenever she returned from a shoot, you were so happy to spend time together.

Claire adored you, and you managed to calm her tantrums easily, greatly relieving Allison.

One evening, as your sister came home late, you put Claire to bed. She was having trouble falling asleep. So, you waved your finger over a glass, filling it with fresh water, and placed it on her nightstand. Then, with a soft and soothing voice, you hummed the lullaby Wendy sings to the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, her favorite cartoon. It was a routine that worked every time. Allison arrived in the middle of your performance and deliberately stayed behind the door to listen. Once Claire was asleep, you chuckled.

"I know you're there," you whispered. "I know you know." she giggles. "I heard a rumor that you stop spying on me." "You know I can’t help it. It’s adorable. Thanks for everything."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It didn’t bother you at all. You went downstairs and opened a bottle of wine to celebrate her return. Patrick left you two alone, and you silently thanked him because these moments with your sister were the best.

KLAUS

/ your power : animal metamorphosis /

It was an evening like any other. Or at least, that’s what you hoped. You were waiting for Klaus outside the nightclub he was in so you could take him home. You preferred to be the one who did so rather than letting him leave alone in a terrible state. As the agreed-upon time had passed, you sighed and stormed out of your car. You entered the club without any difficulty, as the bouncer recognized you immediately. It had its perks to be a member of the Umbrella Academy back then. You searched the entire club for Klaus and finally found him on the rooftop. He was shouting incomprehensible things while walking along the edge of the building. You rushed to join him.

"Klaus, get down. Right now," you ordered, pulling on his sleeve. "Oh Y/N, I’m so happy to see you!" he chirped, his persistent sniffles confirming to you that he had relapsed again. "It’s not funny, Klaus, you could..."

Before you could even finish your sentence, he slipped off the edge of the building and fell into the void. Immediately, you transformed into a falcon and dove toward the ground, but it was too late: he had already crashed. Blood was pouring from the back of his head, but that didn’t stop you from kneeling beside him and resting his head on your lap.

"Damn it, Klaus..." you cried, pressing your forehead against his. "You’re such an idiot..."

It was as if your world had just collapsed, all because of some damn white powder and a brother who was a little too dependent. Suddenly, he took a huge breath, coming back from the dead. You were completely shocked.

"Oh! I knew you’d catch me. You always catch me," he chuckled, pressing his temple against your chest like a little child.

And then he fell asleep. You were stunned and took him back to your car. He had been dead... and then alive. High but alive. You didn’t quite understand what had just happened, and you never talked to him about it until he discovered his ability to resurrect in 1963. That explained a lot …

FIVE

/ your power : healing /

Since Five disappeared, not a day had passed without you searching for a way to find him. You studied all sorts of science books, looking for theories on time travel or anything related. Then, you expanded your research to history books, wondering if he might have done something that left a mark on time. When you were too tired to read, you helped Viktor make peanut butter sandwiches just in case he reappeared.

After leaving the Umbrella Academy when you came of age, you continued your research, scouring every library. But what you didn’t know was that a certain organization known as The Temps Commission had taken an interest in you and was considering recruiting you. Whether it was for your relentless determination, your knowledge of time travel, or your healing abilities, you could only be an asset.

When The Handler found you in an aisle of the Dallas Central Library, you immediately accepted her offer. If anyone had information on Five, it would be them. But your disappointment was immense when you found no trace of him once you were there. That didn’t stop you from continuing your search for many years, so much so that, after a while, Herb secretly helped you through the Infinite Switchboard. And that’s how you found Five, in the middle of the apocalypse. Having no right to interfere with the timeline, you begged The Handler to recruit him as an agent, just like you.

"I’ll think about it," she had said, even though she had already been watching him for 30 years.

Then, one fine day, you were summoned to The Handler’s office. Five was there too.

"Five, I present to you your partner, Y/N Hargreeves. Well, you already know each other. I’ll leave you to it."

She left the room, leaving you two standing there, arms hanging by your sides.

"I found you," he let out.

"I found you," you replied. "I trusted the signs, so I made my way back to you somehow."

"Pathetic," he chuckled, though a smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm glad to see you too, Five," you sighed, smiling just as much.

BEN

/ your power : invisibility /

As Ben was reading, an upbeat music filled the house. The 11-year-old boy went to the living room and saw Grace and you dancing the Rock'N Roll while laughing. Mom was teaching you some steps, her eternal pristine smile fixed on her face.

"Oh, Ben, you’re here! Do you want to give it a try?"

You jumped at the sight of your brother and suddenly disappeared, your cheeks turning red.

"Y/N, show yourself…" Grace sighed, amused.

"Yeah, you were doing great!" exclaimed the young boy.

You reappeared, looking at him with hesitation.

"Really?"

"Cross my heart!"

"Alright, kids, let's continue! Take my hand and follow my steps!"

So you listened to him, dancing awkwardly on the living room carpet. Your siblings watched you from the walkway. At one point, Ben let go of Mom and made his tentacles appear. He began making sort of waves in rhythm, which made everyone laugh. Your father and Pogo were in the surveillance room. The chimpanzee glanced at his master: he was smiling discreetly. Eventually, all the other children came to join you, even Viktor, who had always felt excluded. These moments of joy and freedom were rare. Your gaze met Ben's, sparkling. So, this was happiness.

After Ben's death, whenever you felt sad, your radio would turn on by itself to play that eternal song, warming your heart. Much later, Klaus told you that Ben's ghost had been watching over you and, not wanting to scare you, this was the most discreet way to comfort you.

VIKTOR

On this September 6th, 1997, everyone felt relaxed because it was Saturday, and every first Saturday of the month was a day off for the Umbrella Academy. No training until Monday. Of course, the children were encouraged to study, but that was certainly not on your mind, nor on Viktor's. As you were watching TV, sitting on the floor, a news flash interrupted your documentary on Canadian otters. Lady Diana's funeral was being broadcast live from London.

"She was so beautiful," you sighed, resting your chin on your knees, which were encircled by your arms. "I'm sure it wasn't an accident," Viktor murmured conspiratorially, looking absent-minded.

His pale face suddenly lit up, and he immediately straightened.

"Look! It's Elton John!"

Immediately, you pressed your little noses against the screen to watch the singer enter the abbey. The presenter announced that he was going to sing a final tribute to his late best friend.

"Move away from the screen, you'll hurt your eyes," Grace gently instructed, holding a tray filled with cookies.

“Mom! Can you record this, please?" you exclaimed without even turning around. “Of course, Number 8," she replied. "Imagine if we could play this song ! You with the violin and me with the piano !" you giggled.

Viktor nodded with a large smile, still absorbed by the man's performance. Ever since, you've watched repeatedly the tape Grace made you, learning the partition thanks to your perfect pitch. You'd usually play along to distract your father who appreciated it. Oh he never said so but his silence was quite approving.

#Spotify #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy preferences #preferences #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #y/n #five x y/n #headcanon #tua

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