#but i fixed it so now its Less Whack.

[solarpunkani]

PROGRESS!!!!!!

[wishful-sinful-9]

WANNA BE YOUR DOG

Chapter Two

Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader

Chapters | Masterlist

You had his beer ready before he’d even approached the bar. He thanks you, and you go about wiping the counters and washing the glasses as per usual. You assume he’s pretending the previous morning’s events never happened. 

“Did you get the car fixed?” He speaks up suddenly. It’s a casual question, but there’s a hint of discomfort in its delivery.

“No, they’re gonna scrap it,” you reply without looking at him. “It was ancient anyway. So it’s fine.”

“How did you get to work then?”

“Bus.”

“And how are you gonna get home?”

You shift, fiddling with the cleaning rag in your hands. “I was just gonna…walk.”

He snorts. “In this weather? I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t argue.” So you don’t.

–

The bar owner counts his winnings from a table in the corner. You feel his eyes linger on you as you leave with Logan. You keep your eyes forward.

The winter air is biting after spending so many hours in that stuffy bar, a sensation that sends a shock through you no matter how many times you experience it. Logan pauses, and you look up to see him sniff. “It’s gonna start snowing.”

A giggle escapes and you clap a hand over your mouth as his attention snaps to you. “Sorry, Wolverine.”

His eyes roll and his lips twitch, daring to smile a little, “I’m just thinking about how you’re going to survive trekking home in the snow every night you work.”

You’re not so amused any more. “I- I’ll manage. I’m a big girl, Logan.”

You turn from him and trudge towards the van. He follows you with a shake of his head. 

That godforsaken silence returns on the drive home; your timidness prevents you from breaking it, but the weight of it makes you itch. Ten minutes in, you crack: “So cage fighting, huh?” You hate yourself the minute the words leave your lips. 

“Yes, cage fighting.” he affirms, glancing at you. 

“Is that your primary source of income?”

“Are you worried about how much I make?”

“No! I just- I’m curious- I-” Your face flames to the tips of your ears, wishing to return to the silence being mildly uncomfortable rather than absolutely agonising. “Forget it.” 

He watches your face for a moment. “I had a job interview yesterday. Part-time lumberjack. So I have a day job now.”

“Well then, congratulations,” you say. He grunts.

– 

Snowflakes, fat and glittering, have hastened their falling and begun to settle all around when Logan walks you to your door. It feels like deja vu when you stop in the doorway, him halting at the bottom doorstep so that you’re at eye level. Flakes fleck his dark hair and dust his broad shoulders in a way that you find makes him appear somehow endearing.

“I’ll keep dropping you home,” he states. “I can’t have your blood on my hands if you freeze to death.”

Your stomach squeezes and you giggle softly. “Thank you.”

You bid each other farewell. Lingering in the doorway, you watch him saunter back to his van, an idea forming. Before he can cross the street, you decide to fuck it and hurry to the gate, calling his name. “What if you moved in with me?”

–

It made perfect sense; you could barely survive with your measly bartender’s paycheck and he was starting a second job. The two of you could ride home together. It would get him out of the van life he’d been living in. So really, it’s not weird - it’s perfectly reasonable. 

You repeat this justification to yourself so as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven. You’d attempted to help him lift his boxes inside, but he’d shooed you off, claiming they were too heavy. Unwilling to sit around and twiddle your thumbs, you started baking a batch of welcome cookies to feel a little less underfoot. Logan wanders into the kitchen with wide eyes. 

“They’re welcome cookies,” you explain, carefully lifting each cookie onto the cooling rack. He goes to pick one up and you whack his wrist with the spatula, warning, “They’re hot, wait.” He growls a little and stares at them as if trying to will them to cool faster.

A smile lifts the corners of your mouth; maybe it won’t be so terrible.

a/n: next chapter will be longer promise😭

@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu

@policedeer

[genericpuff]

to add to that last ask about highlights, can you explain how you think the colors don't work now? bc as far as I can tell the colors for the background and characters are still the same as they were in s1, but they for some reaosn don't work now. is because of the lack of values? the lack of shading and highlights? no use of textures? you can explain it better than me

A lot of it comes down to color theory and lack of proper rendering.

Concerning the colors, they definitely aren't the exact same as they were back in S1. Someone on reddit actually did a far better visual breakdown of it than I have time to put together, so full credit goes to /u/LowPHvinegar for the following images!

There's this problem with the undertones and shading used now that makes the characters look very 'plastic'. Before they looked ethereal, now they look rubbery and artificial. And there are a few reasons for this, one of which includes how Rachel shades the comic now compared to S1.

There's also the backgrounds themselves. LO's always been minimal in its backgrounds, but they used to have loads of texture, lighting effects, and glow.

(seriously, when was the last time we got an iconic panel like this? So many of the panels in S3, even the ones that TRY to feel 'iconic', don't come anywhere near the level of the S1 art that was truly memorable).

Rachel's also clearly uh... checked out of the comic in a way that shows through her lineart specifically. Rachel's old art is known for having very thick, varying, distinct lines, and there's been a lot less of that lately.

Rachel's lineart:

Who the fuck:

And what happens when the backgrounds stop pulling their weight? The colors look even worse.

The void backgrounds, unlike in S1, have been VERY muddy and dry. So it makes those hyper-saturated colors look even MORE saturated and ugly.

Now, to Rachel's credit, there have been more backgrounds as of late:

But see how the characters still look whack? It feels like Rachel's making attempts to address the criticism while still avoiding the massive elephant in the room - she's not putting in the same efforts anymore and any efforts she does make feel performative and hollow, and it shows. And this happens a lot with Rachel attempting to address criticism, she's trying to address a specific point that isn't taking into account the larger picture where the grander point is coming from. It feels very "SEE! SEE!" while turning a blind eye to everything else.

And yeah, it means even using some of the same colors from S1 can't and won't save the comic from looking like cheap reproduced garbage. Because just using those colors on their own is missing the forest for the trees, the old colors were only part of a much larger thing. Lore Olympus used to be the sum of its parts - now all those parts have been smashed up with a hammer and left in a mess on the floor, and Rachel is simply trying to pick up those individual parts and call it "fixed".

Frankly, until she understands this and is willing to play a more active part in creating the comic genuinely and with real effort that isn't purely performative or meant to "get back" at her critics, then what LO used to have will forever remain a mess on the floor.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Hot Water

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent xF!Reader

5 Times Roy Kent ends up on your doorstep even though you know it can't keep happening.

~~~

I feel like this was dragged from me kicking and screaming. It started out just a little smutty one shot and now it's a slightly longer one. I do hope you like it, I'm not sure I do but hey ho, there's always the next one! 🙃

~~~

Well. This was really fucking inconvenient. 

You’re literally laying on the bathroom floor. Underneath the fucking bath. Something, somewhere, somehow has sprung a leak and you’re resolved to fix it. You’ve even got your dad’s old toolkit out in the hope that wielding a tool might help. It hasn’t so far. It doesn’t help that you know approximately zero about plumbing. This is all just capping off a pretty fantastically awful couple of months to be honest. And although it’s a work day, and therefore your biggest problem is at the forefront of your mind, you’re going to have to forget the main reason behind your shitty time recently. Because this leak ain’t going to fix itself. You’re doing a masterful job so far - real professional. You’ve remembered to turn the stopcock off which is a big bonus. You nearly broke your hand doing it, but it’s done. You give your spanner an experimental jiggle over what looks like a loose nut, but as you do so, a spider runs over your hand. That little fucker is the catalyst for everything else. You squeal and pull your hand back, whacking first the pipe and then dropping the spanner onto your forehead. Whacking the pipe leads to the spider's little spider buddies coming out to find him, and you soon have one on its way up your arm and one in your hair. All limbs and spanner and spiders, you’re dragging yourself out from under the bath and shaking the little bastards off. Crying, of course, because what else are you meant to do when there are 3 spiders on you and you’ve just hit yourself in the face with a metal tool? 

It’s already 7am, you need to be getting ready for work so there’s nothing else for it, you can shower at work. Luckily, luckily , if you head out now you should be early enough that you’d be alone there. The lads won��t be there til 9am anyway, so it’s only the staff and possibly coaches who might be there any earlier. The showers should be free. You try and give yourself a spider once over, throw on a pair of joggers and a jumper over your PJ shorts set and shove half your life in a bag. You’re only a 10 minute walk from Nelson Road so you don’t bother driving. You head straight in through the side door and shout hello to the cleaner who’s at the top of the stairs to Rebecca’s office. Passed the locker room, and into the depths between the gym and the training pitch are the showers. You put your bag on the bench and pull out a towel and some Richmond kit to wear afterwards. As one of two sports massage therapists for the team, you live in joggers and Richmond vests. Boring but functional. You’ve seen no one, heard no one, but you’re still not keen on the idea of stripping off in a men's shower room so you’re absolutely keeping the knickers on. One less area to have to cover up. You hang up the stuff you need, put away the under bath grimy stuff you’ve just taken off, and switch the shower on. Colin was not wrong about that water pressure. You’re OK. It's OK. This was the right thing to do. A scalding shower with pressure hard enough to feel like you’re being clapped on the back by The Rock sounds like bliss. While the shower heats up, you strip off (except the knickers, of course) and grab your shampoo. That little bastard spider is not leaving babies in your hair. No fucking way. As a second thought just before you get under the water spray, you switch Spotify on your phone so you can drown to the angry sounds of Olivia Rodrigo. You’re getting pretty good at the speed on Good 4 U, though sometimes scream singing it does leave you feeling like you’ve run a marathon. You’re better at the unhinged wail you can really give to ‘bloodsucker, famefucker’ on Vampire, it just hits different at the moment. The hot water hits your body and you finally relax. 

 

~~~~~~

 

You wish you weren’t so outwardly affected. It was always going to go this way, you could have done more to protect your heart though - it would have saved you looking so foolish, and it would have saved a ruined friendship. That was the hardest part to deal with. You’d joined the staff under Ted Lasso and had built a great rapport with the players and the coaching staff. You considered them friends - all of them. Sure, you harboured a pretty big crush on Roy Kent, but it didn’t affect your work. You ignored those feelings, trampled over them and focused on getting on with your job. Notoriously slow to win over, he eventually became as good a friend as everyone else. The night of the West Ham game was insane. Ted was leaving, everyone was bouncing between elation over finishing second in the league and the prospects that would bring, and losing Ted. There were tears of joy and laughter one minute and tears of devastation the next. Ola’s could barely contain the emotion everyone was feeling. You’d decided to hit the road, everything was winding down anyway and the players were going on to an exclusive club which they’d invited you to as well - and you knew full well you wouldn’t have to buy a drink all night, they’d never let you do that when it was £25 for a double gin, but you didn’t want to carry the party on. You’d kissed whoever you could reach, hugged as many as you could see and air high-fived Sam from across the way. You stepped out into the late May night, it was still warm so you lingered outside with your drink while you waited for the taxi. 

“Oi, how come I didn’t fucking get one?” Roy asked, stepping out to join you by the window.

“Hey, you going to the club? Get what?” 

“A hug.” He nudged your shoulder.

“That’s my taxi. You always get a hug.” You slipped your arm across his back and leaned up a little to reach him better. “See you Monday.”

“You can’t go back in a taxi on your own?”

“Course I can, I always do.” You laughed, pulling open the door. He held it open while you sat in the backseat and slipped in after you.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure it gets you back ok.” You haven’t moved quite far enough along the seat so as the taxi driver rounds each corner, you're pushed further into Roy. “So everyone else gets hugs and kisses eh?”

“Only the people I could reach. Also, you just had a hug, stop complaining.” Another corner taken at a higher speed than necessary smushed you into his side. “Jesus, is this guy ready to finish or something.” He put a hand on your thigh,

“You ok?”

“Yeah fine.” The heat of his hand lit up your skin, the addition of far too many drinks made you feel flushed. You both looked at his hand on your leg and then back to each other, the streetlights illuminating you both and then sending you into darkness again. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious move or deliberate, but his thumb brushed gently in small circles on your bare skin. You’re sure he must be able to see your heart pounding through your dress. As he leans forward into you, his hand moves up just another inch and as you gasp at the sensation, he lightly kisses you.

“Here we are. That's a tenner please, love.” Roy goes for his wallet but you push his hand out of the way and hand the driver a note from your bag. He has to open the door to let you out, “you coming back in, fella?” the driver asks. He looks down at the hand which he held out to help you from the taxi to find he’s still holding it.

“No thanks, mate.” You’ve barely got the front door closed behind you before he’s pushed you up against it and kissing you with a fierceness you hadn't realised you were so desperate for. Your hands worked fast, pushing his jacket down his arms and onto the floor with a thud, and pulling him back to you by his t-shirt. The dress Keeley suggested for you is flattering, but a little more revealing than you’d usually wear. Shorter than you’d normally go for and with a low neckline too. He’s got one hand up in your hair and the other is back on your leg, halfway up the skirt while he kisses your jawline. His body presses against you and you can feel him, hard through his jeans. You bring up the leg he’s got a hand on and he hooks it over his hip, it tilts your lower body further into his and he is so close to where you need him it sends you dizzy. It's impossible to disguise the neediness of your moans and the hand that's up your skirt is moving further up to grip the fleshy soft spot between your hip and thigh. 

"God, Roy -," you whine, you rock your hips towards his,

"Sure you want this?" You nod against his shoulder, "Talk to me, babe," he asks. 

"Yes, yeah I'm sure," you're pulling at his t-shirt, dragging it over his head.

When he mutters "good girl," against your collarbone, you're certain you could come there and then. He traces the line of your knickers with his fingers, feeling just how ready you are for him, "fucking hell," he says, wrecked. He slips his fingers inside you and presses his thumb to your clit. He seems to know exactly what you need and just when you're at the brink, grasping for the release that's just out of reach, he kisses you. It's hot and rough and sends you right over the edge. He gives you a minute, a slightly softer kiss, but you don't need it, you only want him. Your shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans until he takes over and does it himself, he's dug out a condom from his wallet. You're still fully clothed, still wearing the high heels that, with his help, have you at exactly the right height for him to push into you. It's everything. Everything you've fantasised about since the day you were introduced, he's the only thing that stands out from your first day at the club. In a room full of high-profile, well-paid, gorgeous footballers, he's the only one you see. He thrusts into you using your hips as leverage, the spike of your heel grazing the back of his thigh. Your hands hold fast to the back of his neck and his shoulder, 

"Roy, fuck, you feel so good." Your name is reverent on his lips as he comes and on hearing, you're there too. His pace slows as his hips stutter, and your head rests in the crook of his neck while you catch your breath. All at once, he's gentle again, carefully bringing your leg back down and making sure you're steady on your feet. He looks a little sheepish as he steps back away from you, taking you hands to help you stand up away from the back of the door, 

"You ok?" He asks, while you straighten your dress and pull it back down into place. 

"Yep, all good. You?"

"Yeah, yeah fine." He looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough, his hesitation and unease rubbing off on you. "I should go though,"

"Yeah, no I figured as much."

"It's just been a fucking long day, y'know?"

"I know. Lots of crazy emotions." He must have seen the look of hurt cross your face, 

"Not that it was a mistake… but maybe, probably shouldn't have happened? Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a fucking dick-,"

"I get it Roy. It was fun but it didn't mean anything." It didn't mean anything . Probably the biggest lie you've ever told and it's out of your mouth like you knew it had to be said all along. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

On Monday morning, you were all notified that Roy would be named as the new head coach for Richmond. He obviously knew beforehand, so within 36 hours you'd gone from sleeping with a colleague to sleeping with your boss, and the sudden distance and desperation to get out of your flat became clear. Along with the knowledge that it definitely could not happen again. Not that he gave the impression that he wanted it to. The following week, you took yourself on holiday for a week with some of the team and friends, just a big villa and a private beach in southern Spain. You'd relaxed, eaten your weight in fresh seafood, and consumed more sangria than you should have. All week, Instagram was full of you and your sunkissed friends having a whale of a time. You returned feeling better about yourself and ready for a few easy admin weeks before the start of the season. And then Roy had shown up at your door. 

"Nice holiday?"

"Not bad… can I help you?" You're on your guard, holding the door closed against you. 

"Right. Thought I should check in, see how you are?" 

"As my boss, or?"

"Can I fucking come in or not?" You hold the door open but keep your arm in the way, childishly making him duck to get through. "Did the lads behave?" He asked from your kitchen. 

"Oh yeah. I slept with Jan in the pool, Richard on the beach and shared a bed with Moe and Tommy all week."

"Fucking funny," he didn't look amused. 

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" He did a momentary double take. "Course I'm joking. Bad enough that I've fucked the boss, isn't it? Jesus if word got around I might as well quit."

"Don't say that." He growled. 

"True though isn't it? You knew, and that's why you left in such a hurry. Quick and dirty. What was it? You'd wondered what it would be like, so thought you might as well give it a go before you started the top job?" He didn't say anything. "And now you're worried that I've been off having too much fun with one of the lads? Like you have any say whatsoever?"

"No. Fuck no. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

"See whoever you want."

"I know."

"Will you stop arguing with me on this?"

"I'm agreeing with you. Boss." Somehow, you'd managed to square up to each other like you were about to hit him. It was still a reasonably high possibility until he closed the gap and kissed you. Horny traitor that it is, your body gives in immediately. "We shouldn't do this again," you hiss as he bites your shoulder. 

"So tell me to fucking stop." He grabs at your loose sleep vest and pulls it off, surprised to find you don't wear anything underneath. "And if you really do want me to stop, then you'd better tell me right fucking now." Instead, you walk him back a step to the sofa and push him to sit down. As soon as he does, you straddle him. 

"Do not fucking stop." You warn him, pulling off his t-shirt. It's the same needy, desperate and hot sex that you'd both craved last time, at least this time you already know that it shouldn't be happening. The difference is that it makes it even more intense. He does the same disappearing act as last time, leaving you doubting your life choices and questioning your sanity. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It happens again the next week. With so many people on holiday, Keeley organises a karaoke night for those who are around. It's lairy and a lot of fun, you sing a few songs including a duet with Nate. Soon, the challenge becomes choosing songs for other people. You can't even place the song Keeley has picked for you until the music kicks in, it's not until you're singing it and reading the lyrics that you realise how apt they are. 

"I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl

But I do bad things with you

So it goes

Come here, dressed in black now

So, so, so it goes

Scratches down your back now

So, so, so it goes"

 

You catch his eye as you're singing without meaning to, and it's like lighting a fire in your belly. You know it's going to happen again. You still don't make it to a bedroom. Instead, you get to your knees for him just inside your flat and this time he's the one sounding needy and desperate. You've never heard Roy Kent of all people sound so wrecked and affected. Ever giving, he's utterly confused when you reject him afterwards and send him home without letting him touch you at all. 

 

It's this which brought him back to your door the last time, just over a month ago. You've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. It had been over a week since the karaoke night. Pre season training was due to start and you knew you'd be busy with rusty footballers who tried to rush their first decent stretch in weeks. You were exhausted after the first day back, your hands ached and you'd half forgotten what it was like to be on your feet all day. You're yawning your way through a takeout menu when the door goes. Once again, Roy is on your doorstep, but this time he has a bag of food with him. He brushes straight past you and into the kitchen where he manages to plate up two meals despite not knowing where anything is kept and you becoming mute. 

"Why are you here?" You mumble.

"I saw the appointment list for today. Thought you'd be fucking knackered." Once you’ve finished eating, he leads you to your own bedroom where he sits you on the bed. "This ok," he asks. 

You nod first, then follow up with a hushed, "Yes." He undresses you slowly, taking his time in a way he hasn't any of the other times before. He lays you back on the bed and settles between your thighs, you're in pieces even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him with a whispered "fuckkk," he gives your thigh a bite,

"Hold fucking still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking, your hands are in his hair, dragging through the curls that have grown out over the summer break. You practically wail his name as you come, and if you've learned anything from the hurried, rough trysts you've had so far with Roy, it's that you definitely weren't prepared for the time he actually gets to take his time with you. He's watching you come down, boneless from your first orgasm, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling back up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences, speaking only in single word requests, "clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs. He's equally as eloquent, but out to take an agonisingly long time with you. He pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. The closeness is both intense and intimate, and when he kisses you it feels so much like a promise your heart could break. Unlike the previous times, you don't part immediately while you both catch your breath. He shifts off you slightly but stays with his nose against your jaw and his hands coveting your body. He's the first one to say it. 

"This can't keep happening."

"We both keep saying that and yet here we are again." You sit up against the headboard, mindful to cover yourself up. 

"I know."

"But, you're right, we can't." You decide you need to be firmer, "I can't keep doing this." He nods and gets up to dress. 

"I'm sorry." He mutters as he leaves. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Roy is always consistently early for work. A byproduct of being awake at stupid o’clock to train Jamie, yes, but before that, he’s just always been early. Now he’s head coach, he uses the time to get the coffee going or makes sure Will is on top of everything in the boot room. Has a wander around and checks the gym or the showers for lonely socks, earbud boxes, or hats. More recently, he's just sat at his desk and moped for an extra half hour before anyone arrives and calls him out on it. Today, though, he puts the coffee on and starts in the gym where he straight away finds Isaac’s favourite sweatbands, Moe’s sunglasses, and one of Dani’s socks. It’s like picking up after a bunch of fucking kids. He dumps the loot in the middle of the locker room and carries on. He can hear singing as he gets closer to the showers and assumes that Jamie must have chosen food over cleanliness and has decided to save time by coming straight to Nelson Road after breakfast. 

 

“Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doing great out there without me, baby

Like a damn sociopath!

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you”

 

Yeah. That's not Jamie. But it's already too late, he'd been rounding the corner as he'd heard the singing and now, well… thank fuck you've got your back to him. He tries to back out of the room, but manages to crash into the bench and sends your phone crashing to the tiles, the music stopping abruptly. The noise has you covering as much of your body with your hands as you can while you scream like a banshee, the sound echoes off the tiles, and what the hell is the lump on your head?! 

"Roy! Fuck me, turn around!" His brain manages to click into gear enough to let him do that at least, but then it goes manic on what he's just seen. Or not seen really, his memory fills in the blanks though. "Fucksake what the hell are you doing?” You’re shaking, he can hear it in your voice. He truly scared the shit out of you. “I need to finish washing my hair, can you be trusted for 5 fucking minutes if I move my hands?" You ask, a little calmer.

"I heard singing, thought it was one of the lads."

"Oh so jumping them in the shower is also fine? Don't move. I'm nearly done. Ouch, cocking shitting fuck." Your voice catches and he thinks you might be crying.

"Jesus, are you alright? I've never heard you swear like that."

"I'm fine," you reply quietly. "Hit my head." He turned quickly, too quickly for you to cover back up, "Oi!" His eyes initially went exactly where you’d expect, then they flew up to yours and didn't move, but it didn’t stop you covering yourself up with your hands again.

"Sorry, sorry, I-" he crossed the room and brought a hand up to your temple which was sporting a painful looking purple bruise. “Was it me, did you hit your head when I came in?” You shake your head with a grimace,

“No, it’s been a fucking awful morning. I just-,” he’s close enough now that he’s going to be right under the shower head in a minute, and he can see that you are close to tears. “You’re gonna get soaked. Could you just go away please?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he goes back to the bench and retrieves your phone from the floor. He has the good grace to look ashamed that the screen is smashed to bits. “Fuck, sorry.” he kicks off his sneakers and turns back to you, “turn around.”

“No, I want to be left alone. Let’s not pretend you give a shit, Roy. Just go.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. This is getting stupid.

“Of course I fucking give a shit. Please. Turn. Around. You’ve hit your head, you’re freezing cold, you-”

“Fine.” You glare, “fine.” You turn to face the wall, no idea why. It becomes clear as he comes to stand right behind you, under the stream of water.

“Head back.” You lean your head back as he asks. His height over you means he has a direct line of sight down your body so you keep your hands in place as he washes the shampoo out of your hair. He avoids the lump in your hairline far better than you did, and now you’re back under the water, you’re warming up a bit. He takes his time, and as you close your eyes, his are drawn to the path the droplets of water follow over your skin, like memories of where his mouth had been. “Did you need to do anything else?” he asks softly. You shake your head, moving your hands and arms so you can still cover yourself but also bring a hand to cover your face, trying not to cry. He reaches past you to turn the shower off. He moves away but he’s only gone long enough to get your towel from the hook. He holds it out for you and turns his head so you can move your arms and step into it. Then he leads you to the bench and pushes your shoulders gently to sit you down. He disappears and comes back a couple of minutes later with a towel for himself and another smaller one which he passes you for your hair. You use it to blot the majority of the water out of your hair, breathing in the soothing lavender softeners Will uses. He’s busy watching you but you’re staring at the floor. With your hair a little dryer, he brushes his fingers through it to move it away from the bruise and take a better look. “That looks really fucking nasty. What did you do?”

“Spanner.” You mumble. He’s not speaking so you know he’s waiting for you to elaborate. “I have a leak under the bath I was trying to fix. A spider scared me so I hit the spanner off my head while I was trying to get out and then there were like three other spiders all over me and I fucking hate spiders and… I just feel like shit.” Saying it all out loud, you realise it all sounds a bit feeble, that you’ve overreacted. 

“Get dressed before you get a cold. I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll shout this time before I come in.”

 

~~~~~~

 

You don’t rush. You sit for a minute and try to gather your thoughts. Of all the people in the entire club, he was the one you’d least want to see you half naked in the shower. He’d have probably been top of the list only a month ago. You’re not even sure by this point what he actually did see, but it’s also too late to care now. It’s done so there’s no undoing it. And it's not like he hasn’t seen it all before anyway. You dry off and pull on your sweats, you’re just reaching for your Richmond t-shirt when he calls out to let you know he’s on his way back. He’s been to get changed, 

“I’m fine, you might as well get back to work. Everyone will be here in a minute.” He goes to challenge you again but you just don’t have the energy. You haven’t even had a coffee yet this morning, let alone breakfast. “Please, Roy. I’m fine.” You throw your wet towel in your bag and check you’ve got everything before squeezing past him and back up to the treatment room. You avoid everyone all morning, Katie offers to go outside for training so you can stay in. She goes out just before 10am, meeting Nate in the corridor. You have to pop to the main office to sign for a delivery and when you get back, there’s a mug of coffee and a paper bag with a pastry inside on your desk, along with some painkillers. The rest of the day seems to settle down. You work your way through the list of players who need some time with you. Jan Maas is last on the list with a niggle he picked up in training that morning. You’ve got your hands high up on the back of his thigh when Roy taps on the door,

“Hey coach.” Jan mumbles from face down on the treatment bench. You manage to get your thumb right where he needs it and he lets out a low groan. Roy raises an eyebrow,

“Alright Jan. You good?”

“Yes, she’s a genius” He hops up from the bench with a big smile. “You should let me buy you a drink, to say thank you.” 

“I’m fine thanks, Jan. Take it easy on your leg.” When he leaves, Roy moves to sit on the bench. He takes your wrist as you walk by him, pulling you to stand in front of him where he can check your forehead again. 

"How's it feel?"

"Like I hit myself in the head with a spanner."

"Are you done?"

"For the day or generally? Because the answer is yes to both. I'm going home. I need to… not be here." Not be around you . Is the follow up you'd like to add. I can't ignore it like you can, can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. It’s getting harder every day. 

"I think you have a concussion. I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't want to vocalise those thoughts?" You go to slap your hand to your head, but he stops you just in time. "Don't make it any fucking worse." He rolls his eyes when you glare at him. The off season was so much easier. The need for contact between you both has steadily increased over the last month with the team returning. Daily meetings and progress reports on injuries old and new, the only saving grace is that he's stopped coming to you for his own recovery sessions.

"I'm going home." 

"Let me drive you."

"I'd really rather you didn't. Look, I'll be fine. I'll get over it, I just need to do it in my own time." You don't wait for a response. You take your bag and leave him sitting on the treatment bench alone. 

 

The first thing you do is fix the leak. It would be much easier if you were in the right frame of mind, which you're not, but you manage. There are no more spiders, but you end up soaked from the water left in the pipe which bursts out when you loosen rather than tighten the nut. You really don't know whether to laugh or cry from the calamity of it all. You're about to go for cry, but the doorbell goes and you're surprisingly unsurprised to see Roy. Again. 

"You know, it would be a lot easier for me to get over whatever this," you motion between the two of you, "is, if you could just fuck off and leave me to it?"

"Can I come in?" You turn to let him in, looking expectantly for him to continue. His hand rubs his beard and up through his hair, cut shorter since the last time he was in your flat - the curls gone. "Fucksake. You act like this is easy for me."

"Well you make it seem like it is." 

"It's not. It never fucking has been. Why do you think I kept coming back even though I knew, I knew it was a bad fucking idea?"

"You tell me? You're the one who walks out of here without a care in the world once you've got what you want?" A look of hurt flashed across his face, you knew it was a low blow, you had no idea why you'd even said it. 

"Is that really what you think?" He asked quietly. You shook your head. "All this coaching job has done so far is make me fucking miserable."

"It's only been a couple of months. You'll figure it out."

"It's making me miserable because I lost you in the process. You said earlier that I shouldn't pretend to care, but I don't need to pretend. I do care. Too much, that's the fucking problem." He sighed heavily.

" We can't keep happening, you're my boss now."

"Well, I've been feeling like this a lot longer than I've been your fucking boss, and I don't regret any of it."

"Feeling what, exactly? Because if you're about to fuck up your future-"

"I love you." You close your eyes. Your head is pounding again.

"Roy, think about what you're doing -"

"Tell me you don't feel the same, and I'll go." You shake your head,

"I can't," you whisper. "I can't. I'm in love with you too." He crosses the room and cups your cheek, checking the bruise on your forehead again before he kisses you. You sigh into him, "What are we going to do?"

"I'm the boss. As long as I'm not fucking you in the treatment room, I think it'll be OK." 

"That's a shame. Not even after hours?"

"Don't tempt me. Any objections to me waking you up every couple of hours to check you really don't have a concussion?"

"Depends how you plan to wake me?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." He smiles, letting you lead him to the bedroom. 

 

~~~~~~

FIN

[swearingcactus]

borrowing showers past bedtimes

remember the little thing i wrote the other day about v borrowing kerry's shower? yeah i finished it, somewhat, decided it was still relatively short (2k) and too plotless for an ao3 post. so woe, fic be upon ye. (under the cut)

It seemed like it took forever until V’s incessant knocking on Villa Eurodyne’s front door got it to swing open.

Speaking of the door, when the fuck did Kerry even get his front door fixed anyway? They had tried to fix it on a random weekend when V came over, but it kept opening stubbornly no matter what they did. And then Kerry had gotten so mad and tried to rip the door of its hinges, so they dropped the effort altogether. And–

“Oh, shit.” Kerry’s voice brought him back to the present and V blinks to realize Kerry’s looking at him with wide eyes. He pulls down his headphones he had on to his neck. His previous annoyance at being bothered in his house at this hour slipping rapidly into shocked worry at the sight of a merc covered in blood and mud and who knows what else, standing with his arms and feet a shoulder apart.

“Hey Ker, wha‘sup, sorry for bargin’ in so late at night,” V says, words stumbling over the other like a trainwreck, then he gets to the point, “Can I please borrow your shower?”

“Jesus, of course,” Kerry says, and then jerkily opens the door wider like he just remembered he could do that.

“‘m not Jesus, I’m V.” V mumbled out absent-mindedly. He whacks his arm before he gets in, some blood and bits of flesh fell off the sleeves of his jacket, squelching to the floor.

“Do you need a ripper?” Kerry asked. V drags his feet onto the concrete in hopes it’ll lessen the blood stains when he walks in the house.

“Oh, nah, I’m fine. This isn’t mine.” V says, just realizing how this must’ve looked. “I’ve been out the whole day in the rain, went from the badlands then back, got a gig near here.” V walked further into the house, avoiding the items still strewn about the floor. “Got messy. Normal shootout stuff, grenades, the like, then just–” he makes a psh-SHOOO noise with his mouth as he creates an over-exaggerated motion of an explosion with his hands.

“Gonk had a grenade on him and pulled the wrong pin.”

Kerry lets out an amused, morbid chuckle. V thinks that’s nice; he’d probably laugh about it too. If he hadn’t spent the entire day being scorched and sweating under the Badlands sun, hit by dust and dirt. Then got whacked with a storm that came out of nowhere. Then trekked his way up here just to get blasted in the face with someone’s guts. He smelled like garbage and felt so grossed out, but he was still ready to spend the entire ride back to Watson feeling like complete shit… only to find that the earlier shootout had blown off his Yaiba’s fuel tank.

But yeah, he’s fine! He’s totally not gonna lose it if he can’t claw his way out of his clothes within the next 5 minutes. But just in case, he excuses himself to the shower and practically ran in.

–

V's buck-ass naked in Kerry's shower. It's a huge shower, taking up 30% of the entire bathroom and the bathroom itself is bigger than his apartment. And now the large space and the great ventilation is getting him cold. He rubs a foot on top of the other, trying to warm the palms of his feet. He goes to pick up another soap from the rows and rows of product that Kerry had, all lined up.

It took less time to decide on a shampoo to use earlier because there were only two options, and even though he should probably peruse the purple shampoo dedicated to keep hair dye to shine and all that... he had decided to use the one Kerry probably forgot at the back. It had dust on its lid but smelled powdery.

Johnny crackles, all blue pixels and blurs of light, leaning on the glass window next to him. "Occupied, asshole." V says, gesturing to himself. "Also, ever heard of privacy?"

"You lost your privacy rights the second you took longer than 10 minutes to decide on a soap to use. At least start the water. This isn't your megabuilding, Kerry can pay the hot water bills."

Johnny made a good point, but V opted to ignore Johnny for now, as he often does. Instead, he opens another soap bottle and sniffs it experimentally. He could tell this was Kerry's go-to soap. Smelled like mint and perfumed musk. He reads the name of the scent. Gold Desire.

"Oh fucking... his pretentious ass needs a beating." Johnny grumbles. V snorts and closes the bottle. It's a scent reminiscent of Kerry, which V doesn't hate, of course. But the idea of smelling like Kerry didn't sit right with him.

A little too domestic. A little like he's playing pretend as someone's cute little input who's enjoying the high life for years by now. A little too much like wearing a costume. He's already had enough of the idea of turning into someone he's not without a stupid soap doing it for him.

He goes to sniff the next soap and dry-heaves. It smelled overwhelmingly like burning plastic that's vaguely presented with artificial strawberry and vanilla. He coughs and puts it away.

“At this point your clothes are gonna finish being washed before you do.” Johnny complains, glitching away and popping up, squatting on top of the washing machine dramatically.

V picks up another soap, “Oh Johnny, gross, you cummed in this one.”

“I what.”

“Look, ‘Rockerboy’s Wet Dream.’” V says, grinning and showing off a green bottle. Johnny rolls his eyes and pretend-flicked his cigarette’s ash onto the floor.

V continues to read the bottle, “’Citrus and Red Chili.’ Wonder how that smells combined.” V sniffs it, “Spicy!” he announced to Johnny who has now resorted to softly banging his head on the wall behind him. V decided he could just use this one and goes to turn the water on.

He enjoys how it immediately produced the perfect temperature without him even needing to fiddle with the settings or wait. Some fancy tech that detects his temperature and automatically sets the most suitable one for him once his feet hit the shower tiles.

He pours a hefty amount, wincing at how the bottle wheezed and dropped a slimy gel-like substance with beads of scrubs– which hurt when he started to slather it up. Before the contact with skin promptly starts to burn. Granted he has never used a high-end soap with an exfoliator and whatnot, but V doubts it’s supposed to hurt this much.

V picks the bottle up again to inspect it, hoping to see if maybe he’s just using it wrong or something… when he noticed a manufacture date at the top of the cap. He froze in fear. “Holy shit. This was produced before I was even born. Why the hell do Kerry even keep this around.”

He chucks the bottle to the trash bin to the far end of the room. It missed and hit the wall, bouncing onto the floor. V scrubs the rest of the offending soap on him, almost panickedly.

“You can shower with my actual cum, ‘ll hurt less.” Johnny offers mockingly, getting in the stall with him. V elbows him hard, even if he glitches away before it made any believable contact.

“Give it a couple second and you’ll feel the burn too, see if you can joke then.” V grumbles. He takes a long deep breath and spends the next few breaths just watching as the bubbles get washed along with the grime and mud that starts to melt onto the floor along with the hot water. Shoulders slowly slumping as the events of the day start to catch up and some new bruises and cuts make their presence known. He cards his fingers onto his hair and plop goes the pieces of brain matter and what could’ve been an eighth of an eye. He kicks it down the drain, and blindly takes a random bottle.

This one’s still filled to the brim. He opened it to find it still sealed, even. He struggles to open it with his nails and managed to do so... sacrificing some nail paint in the process. He sniffed it almost dejectedly. Before perking up, pleasantly surprised with its unfamiliar but sweet scent.

"Huh.." he says, taking it away to properly read what it was. "Coconut and basil."

"Do you even know what a coconut looks like?" Johnny accused, out of nowhere.

"Sure I do. It's brown, kinda round looking. Floats. Not sure what a basil actually is though." V answers easily, and finally sets the soap next to the shampoo he had picked, and gets to showering in peace.

--

V stepped out of the bathroom feeling like an actual human again for once, shaking his hair onto the towel roughly to dry it.

"Ker?" he calls out. He hears a faint tune being repeatedly played and walks to the far end of the first floor. Kerry sat with his back to V, with his headphones in, frowning at a computer. He had a guitar in one hand while his other hand was covering his mouth, a finger tapping onto his lips.

Kerry glanced over when he noticed V in his peripheral vision and says, "Hey," but his focus quickly turns back to the computer.

V steps next to him to plant a kiss on the top of his head. "Thanks for the shower." (He could feel Johnny rolling his eyes, making pretend-barfing motions. V made a huge point to tell him to fuck off.)

"No problem," Kerry says, obviously still distracted.

"Busy?" V asks, knowing the answer but thinking he should probably still ask it.

Kerry doesn't really answer, just hums vaguely, somewhat affirmatively.

V spreads his toes out on the floor, feels that it’s dusty, still haven’t been properly vacuumed since god knows when. He shifts his weight. "... Anything I can help with?" He offers. It's a long shot but sometimes Kerry asks his opinion on song lyrics, even though V kinda guessed it's less of asking an opinion and more of showing off an unfinished piece he’s still proud of.

As he expected, the shot fell short of its mark when Kerry replies with a clear, resounding, "No." and by then V knows he's maxed out trying to get a conversation out of Kerry.

He goes to leave Kerry alone.

–

V checks his clothes to see it had finished its spin cycle and is now being dried. Still a couple hours to go. He goes back out and climbs to the second floor, trying to find something to wear in the meantime. Kerry’s a little shorter than him, (“Not by much.” Johnny annoyingly pointed out.) Fine, Kerry’s only a little shorter than him, but his clothes mostly consisted of leather or something so cropped, might as well just go nude.

There were some hoodies, though, large unassuming jackets Kerry bought in bulk to hide from media vultures. Big enough it makes his boxers look shorter than it actually is. V decides to borrow one, goes to bite and suck one of the hood’s strings immediately once he slipped it on.

He leans over the second floor to check up on Kerry from above. Kerry tapped the space bar so hard V swears it’ll crack. He starts grumbling unhappily, then goes to fiddle another tune on the guitar. Yikes. Better leave him alone for now.

“Derivative!” Johnny yells about the tune, over the railing.

If Kerry could actually hear him there would be a bloodbath.

V passed Kerry’s bed and goes back down to the first floor, sitting on the sofa. Kerry stops playing the guitar with an uncomfortable screech and whines loudly.

“Tell him try changing it to a minor tune.” Johnny says. V frowns at him, not sure if he’s actually offering genuine musical help or if he’s just fucking around to try and rile Kerry up. Either way, V knows Kerry wouldn’t appreciate any unwarranted advice at this stage. Johnny clicks his tongue, because he knows it too, he just doesn’t like not letting everyone know what he thinks.

V goes to lean back, only to sit up straight again, looking back and noticing there’s a bong stuck behind him. He pulled it out, then sighs at the mess. Before standing up and picking up empty and half-filled glasses to the kitchen to stick them in the dish washer. He continued to throw out two thongs wedged in the sofa. Wipe the counter from the sticky, spilled alcoholic drinks and their mixers.

It took a while until the sofa and the coffee table in front of it looked nice enough, and V sits and slumps himself onto it in satisfaction, letting the sofa’s crevice swallow him as much as it could.

–

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Kerry asks, gently shaking him to wake him up.

V blinks blearily awake, takes a second to realize where he's at. Then at the question. Wanted to wait up for you sounds too cheesy suddenly and V decides to just shrug.

"You cleaned my place up." Kerry says appreciatively.

"Nnno, just the sofa area." V points out, then yawns, putting his hand into a fist and using his knuckles to cover it. Kerry lets out an 'Awww' kind of sound and V stopped yawning immediately, frowning up at him. Kerry stopped cooing, and grinned, "Come on, let's get you to an actual bed, huh?"

He pulls V up and leads him to the second floor onto the bed. V falls into it immediately, rolling so he can plant his face down onto the biggest pillow Kerry had, while Kerry went off to turn off most of the lights on the switch on the wall.

V doesn't need to see to know when Kerry shuffled into bed when the bed dips next to him. He puts a hand out to feel for Kerry and when his fingers found contact on skin, he scoots closer.

"D'aww," Kerry says again cut off harshly when V pokes his ribs, hard. "Hey you don't want me to think you're cute? Stop being cute."

"Thought you said I was a brat?" V coyly asked.

Kerry lets out a huff, "Alright, down, boy. Way past your bedtime for that."

"Sounds like I need some punishi--" V couldn't help a yawn before he could finish that sentence, "Yeah, point taken." He shuffles again, a leg lands on top of Kerry's before settling. “Sorry I bothered you while you were doing your song.” He says to Kerry’s arm.

Kerry lets out a soft laugh again, rubs the point of contact between his fingers and V's upper arm, “Yeah if you were anyone else, I would’ve told you to fuck off. Consider it a privilege that you got me away from my set and I’m still letting you on my bed.”

“Yay, privilege!” V whoops softly. “Always wanted to know what that feels like.”

Kerry snorted again. They went quiet and V thought that was the end of it. Until Kerry adds, “You know you don’t have to…” he stops like he thought better than to say it. V opens his eyes to look up at Kerry, telling him to go on.

Put on the spot, Kerry begrudgingly continues, “I dunno, just… you know I’m here for you, right? So.. I dunno, V, maybe next time, you could just think of coming over in the first place instead of it being an alternative plan? And, ugh, I know how this might sound to– Look, I’m not saying this ‘cus I’m jealous or, or clingy, okay, I know you got your own thing. Look, you don’t have to act all awkward and proper ‘round me, ‘s all. I mean, come on, V, it’s just me.”

“Uh-huh.” V says, though he doesn’t really get what that’s all about. He shuffles and drops his head back to its original position, closing his eyes. He’s falling asleep again, and he fights to hear what Kerry’s saying next, it gets jumbled into one hazy tune. Something about time, and them being friends, sometimes a little more, something about worrying about not hearing something…

He snuggled to Kerry’s arm again, concludes Kerry’s probably just stressed about the piece. So, he sleepily asks, “Didja finish it though? The song.”

“Huh?” Took a few seconds for Kerry to realize what he’s asking, “Oh… Nope. Gave up on it for tonight.”

“Should try changing it to minor key.” V hears himself say without him actually thinking it, then he groans quietly. He kicks the engram mentally, mumbles out, “Oh, shut up, Johnny…”

“Yeah, shut up, Johnny.” Kerry echoes immediately. But there’s a slight moment where V thinks Kerry’s arm had tensed a tiny bit, before relaxing, as he leaned into V’s hair. Then, "You smell nice."

Thanks, it's coconut and basil. V thinks he says, but he's not sure because he conked out within milliseconds. He thinks that for tomorrow, in-between getting home, and doing gigs, and finding leads about the relic, he’ll try to figure out what a basil actually is.

Author's Note: yeah so coconut and basil huh. The coconut that goes around getting bobbed by the sea but floats with the flow. The basil that could mean anything from a token to ward off the devil to a symbol of love. Also smells great together as a body wash. Fun! Maybe Kerry'll think there's poetry in it if V shared it the next day.

[reneethegreatandpowerful]

Inklings Challenge Entry- The Dark Lord's Son Does Laundry

@inklings-challenge

Well, I procrastinated, so this little snippet is all I have for you today. The genre I chose was secondary world fantasy, and the theme I chose was visiting the sick, but this snippet doesn't really get as far as either. I hope you enjoy what there is, though. :)

One fine morning in the land of Luden, Hanaden came out of his front door and paused to admire his wife's box garden. All the little plants in their different shades of green were a lovely sight to him. A somewhat less lovely sight to him was in the yard, where young Filsalis hunched over a laundry basket, pulling out long sheets. He slung them onto his shoulders, practically burying his head in a sea of white as they spilled forward and back of him.

While he was attempting to hurl them over the line without dropping them on the ground, Hanaden entered the yard and raised his brows at the laundry overwhelmed lad, who was unknowingly trailing sheets onto the grass behind him.

"Good morning," said Hanaden uncertainly.

"Ah, good morning Hana!" said Filsalis, turning what little could be seen of his face, which was his sparkling dark eyes and the top of his freckled nose. "Don't worry about the laundry! It's all clean, and with a wind like this, it'll be dry in a jiff'!"

"Thank you," said Hana, watching the sheet narrowly miss a streak of dirt on its way up Filsalis, "That's very helpful."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," he said, accidentally flipping it over his head instead of the line. He pulled it back off, his black hair getting messier by the minute. "So, everything running smoothly with the festival preparations? You were helping with fireworks, weren't you? Need any help?"

"Er, no. It's all in order. I think."

"Because if you do need help-" he panted, trying to get the sheet evenly over the line so it wouldn't fall off, "I'd be willing-"

"No, that's alright. You should enjoy yourself today."

"Alright then, I will!"

"Oh, let me help you." Hana went on the other side of the line.

"No, no! It's like you said, Hana- if I should enjoy myself today, so should you. Take care of the fireworks, and don't worry about the laundry!"

"The laundry is getting covered in grass stains."

"Oh," said Filsalis, looking at the last sheet, which was hanging out of the basket. He pulled it into his arms. "I don't suppose anybody will really notice, will they?"

Hana sighed. "They might."

"Well, I wouldn't! I'll use this one this time."

"It's a queen size," said Hana, pointing at the pristine twin sheet hanging on the end. "That's probably yours."

"Oh. Well, I'm going to bet that whoever uses it won't notice."

"I notice."

"Well, maybe Mrs. Hanaden won't mind?"

Hana sighed. "That's not the point. You have to ask for help if the sheets are too large for you. Also, don't call Aldia that."

"Why?"

He flapped the last sheet so it whacked Filsalis on the nose. "Because I said so." A small grin escaped him.

Filsalis smiled slyly back. "It must be a festival day if you're smiling."

"I smile," said Hana, ceasing to do it.

"Okay, I believe you. Woo!" he cried as they threw the last sheet over the line. "What a wonderful day, don't you think?" He looked out over the city, or what he could see of it over the wooden fence. The sky was blue, and there were a few thin clouds painted over it. Now and then a bird fluttered over the rooftops, twittering, or someone's voice laughed out.

"It's nice," said Hana. When Filsalis rolled his eyes at him, he amended, "Really nice. Quite a nice day."

"Come on, Hana! You're helping to set up! If you don't fix that sour face, people will think there's something amiss."

"My face isn't sour," said Hana, wrinkling his brow.

"Well, it's not cheerful, either. So, everything really is set up, then?"

"Oh, I don't know, for now it is," said Hana, his brow wrinkling deeper. "Wait, I almost forgot! Aldia wanted me to visit Halaina for her this morning."

"You don't sound excited about it," said Filsalis. His eyes lit up. "Ah, don't worry, I can go instead!"

"You don't have to do that," said Hana wearily.

"Well, sounds like you'd rather not, and unlike you, I have all the time in the world to enjoy the festival. So I think it's a great idea."

Hana looked hesitant. "Alright," he said, "But don't do anything...odd, alright? Aldia usually visits with her awhile, but you don't know her, so you can probably just drop the food off for her, maybe talk about the weather, and-"

"Got it," said Filsalis. "Anything in particular I should know about her? Is she grouchy?"

"Yes," said Hana. "I always got the impression she didn't like me."

"Well, she can't be any worse than you." He laughed. "Basket's in the kitchen, then?"

"Yes, but-"

"Don't worry, Hana, I love talking to people. I'm not afraid of old ladies. Unlike-" He winked exaggeratedly and ran off, taking the big basket with him.

Hana shook his head.

[hobidreams]

I was curious about TES after Yoongi was getting whacked left and right by anon's and read all the 3 parts + drabbles. I agree with them that he is toxic and but I also noticed something peculiar.

Why does y/n keep giving in that relationship ? Like, she buys him that music device, she spends her money on him after his first hit, she goes down on him more times than he does in the series. Even when they were just fxckbuddies, he seemed to be way ruder and seeing their relationship, I don't think he has made up to her. She is doing everything & he is just receiving while giving back little. The relationship seems parasitic rather than symbiotic.

im ngl to you i think its just because of the way the series is written and it's impossible for me to cover everything in their relationship!! LOL. so all those little moments of Yoongi being there for her, offering the $$ and emotional support she needs to pursue her dreams, doing the dishes for her when shes busy, those don't really get highlighted just bc of the scenes that ive chosen to write about. i tried to show it in the AMM answers (not sure if you read those too) but basically whatever she wants, she gets and Yoongi buys for her or acquiesces (even if its like food at 3am). like the cats that she's obsessed with. if she randomly brought home another cat he'd just cave to what she wanted loool. also in an amm i think i said that he, mc, and mocha wear family halloween costumes LMAO he def didnt like them at first but he does stuff like that to make her smile all the time!

ALSO PLS THE MAN WENT DOWN ON HER THE FIRST TIME LIKE A MADMAN u think he isn't down there on a regular basis?? 😆

anyhow the entire concept of the series was enemies to lovers so i truly wanted to create a character who was RUDEEE and in the depths so that he could get a second chance. ive always said in asks abt TES that if u meet a man like first chap Yoongi, u should run LOL but post-final-cup, Yoongi is absolutely trying his best to meet her needs and use his words and communicate with her like a big boy! also i think in my head he's just not as.. creative as her?? so like it'd never occur to him to rent a limo for sex LMAO but he would take her out for a nice romantic dinner to celebrate and that's not something that was particularly interesting to write a whole drabble abt 😥 so like the BJ drabble was meant to harken back to ch2, so that's why she was doing that. so i don't think it's totally accurate to say he always gives less.

also when i was writing the series, it was important to me that she has her flaws too. they're just flaws that arent as obvious because we're in her head! like she's so obviously a busybody and nosy AF. she's attracted to Yoongi cause she's kinda lost in her life and has a very "I want to fix him" attitude that's not good for either of them. so that moment at the end of the [REDACTED] confrontation where Yoongi storms off instead of thanking her was meant to be her wakeup call. he had to come to terms with it on her own and she ultimately had to respect his decisions, even when she disagrees with them. in a relationship i can still see her trying to take over and "my way or the highway" at times but Yoongi is more chill now so he mostly goes along with it, even if he bickers for fun with her over it! so imo the relationship is quite balanced now!!

[starlitangels]

“Last Night (Mistake)” Alternative Situations

I bungled some opportunities when I wrote “Last Night (Mistake)”. Allow me to fix that with a pair of different setups and a different opening

Assuming Blake and Elliott are around the same age, their senior year of high school was either 2012 or 2013 so that’s about when these take place

This is a lot of spice. No smut but Very Spicy. Don’t read it while you’re at work or in class

2.7k words

—

Alternative Situation #1

One of my many playlists thumping away its beat from my iPod Touch, I sat on one corner of Blake’s bed in his basement bedroom, him on the other end. I had my feet up on his leg and he was fiddling with the seam of my sock while reading his textbook. I had my review packet on my lap, but I’d glazed over trying to read it two songs ago. My eyes scanned the paragraphs of important information but the letters and words were all meaningless as my focus continued to dwindle.

“Blake?” I asked.

“Mm?”

“My brain is gonna melt out of my ears.”

“Sorry. Need a break?”

“Probably. Just stand up for a few minutes. Get some blood flow back to my brain or something.”

I moved to get my feet off of him, but he wrapped one hand around my ankle. 

Before I could even ask what he was doing, he ran one fingertip up the sole of my foot.

I yelped and kicked. “Hey! No tickles!”

He smirked. His grip on my ankle tightened. He tickled with more fingers.

I squirmed and kicked harder. “Blake!” I reached behind me—my review packet falling to the ground, forgotten—and grabbed one of his pillows and bringing it around to whack him with it.

It hit him in the face with an “Oof!”

He cackled and tried to grab it from me, but I didn’t let it go and moved to whack him again. Not in the face this time.

He snatched it out of my hands with less difficulty and tossed it halfway across his room. “If you’re gonna hit me, be brave and just hit me,” he said with a smile.

I whacked him in the arm with the back of my hand. “No! I don’t actually want to hurt you,” I said.

He shrugged and grabbed my ankle again, moving as though to tickle my foot again.

“No!” I protested, kicking and actually releasing myself this time.

I drew my feet off his lap and folded them closer to me until I was sitting cross-legged. Biting his lip in concentration, Blake leaned over the bed toward me like he was going to try to tickle me again. I scrambled backward until my spine pressed against the headboard of his bed.

“No. No-no,” I said.

He paused and withdrew. “Do you really wanna stop? I-if you’re not comfortable... I mean, I thought we were just messing around. I meant to just be messing around. If that’s not how you see it and you want to stop I’m fine to.”

I gestured vaguely. “I’m just not a big fan of being tickled,” I said.

“So... what if I do... this?” He snapped his fingers—

And the pillow catapulted from the floor and hit me right in the head.

“You jerk!” I exclaimed through a laugh. “Oh, you are gonna get it now!” I grabbed the pillow and started hitting him with it. He laughed and lunged to grab his other pillow to fight back, but I blocked him. “Oh no you don’t!”

He grabbed my leg and yanked me away from his headboard so he could go over the top of me to grab at the pillow where I couldn’t block him. His fingertips dug into my inner thigh for a better grip—sending a thrill of sensitive sensation up my spine and making me go weak. I sucked in a deep breath, realizing how dry my mouth was.

Blake sensed the shift—

But didn’t let go of my leg. Didn’t loosen his grip. Just stayed where he was, above me, looking down. Pupils blown wide and eyes wider. His other hand was bracing into his pillow over my head where he’d grabbed at it, leaving him somewhat diagonal over me.

The playful mood was gone, leaving a charged atmosphere in its place.

“B... Blake...” 

My voice was breathless. I didn’t even know what I was saying. Was I warning him off? Spurring him on?

He licked his lips and shifted his weight backward. Just enough to take pressure off his other hand.

He ran the backs of his fingers down my cheek, then my neck. At the curve where it met my shoulder, I gasped slightly at that thrill again. Every muscle in my back went slack and my eyelids fluttered. “Oh God...” I breathed.

Blake lifted his fingers off my neck, but the fingertips of his other hand tested their grip on the inside of my thigh, squeezing.

I bit back the little moan that rose, unbidden, to my throat. But some of the sound was still audible over the playlist continuing to play over Blake’s small set of speakers.

Slowly, he lowered himself down.

Delicately feather-light, he brushed his lips to mine.

Wound so tight, that gentle sensation made me snap. I grabbed at his head and held him close to me, kissing him harder.

He replied with equal enthusiasm. Massaging his hand against both of my inner thighs and scooping the noises I made from it out of my mouth with his tongue. Moaning into it himself.

His other hand darted under my shirt. “This okay?” he breathed.

I nodded. “Yes. Please. Keep going.”

He explored under my shirt. My back arched as he dug his fingers into the skin next to my spine as my eyelids fluttered closed.

“Can I take this off?” He tugged at my hem.

“Please.” I helped him get my shirt off. He stripped his own and threw it off to the side. It hit his bedroom door—that was closed. When had it closed? We usually studied with it open...

All thoughts slid out of my head like sand through a child’s fingers when his lips landed on the curve of my shoulder. 

One of his hands was scrambling to unbuckle the belt of his shorts. I reached up and helped him, undoing the belt and popping open the button on his waistband while he handled the zipper. “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded���over and over. “Use your words.”

“This is better than okay,” I said. “Keep going—oh God, please keep going.”

“Can I take yours off?”

“Please. Blake please.”

He pulled at the waistband of my shorts as he kicked his own off.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “C’mere.”

He pulled me flush against him and kissed me hard. I met him with fervor.

—

Alternative Situation #2

“That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn’t notice... but we did. How does Fury even see these?”

“He turns.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

Blake snorted. “You know, I gotta be honest, I didn’t think they were gonna be able to pull this off,” he whispered. Even though we were just on the couch of the basement of his parents’ house, he knew if he talked too loud through a movie I’d just shush him.

“Yeah, I agree,” I agreed. I offered him the popcorn bowl. He took a handful and chipped away at putting it in his mouth a few at a time. “I mean, when we saw this in the theaters I was just overwhelmed by the spectacle but this way... I’m still impressed.”

“There’s gonna be no way they’ll be able to keep this kind of quality up for the big team-ups. Hype and expectations will always exceed delivery,” he remarked.

“Mm. Probably,” I agreed. “Guess that depends on taste, too.”

“Mm. Yeah. True.”

I popped some of the popcorn in my mouth.

One of the engines blew up on the Helicarrier. I leaned forward, still enjoying the anticipation even though I already knew what was going to happen.

Blake put an arm around me and pulled me backward. “Hey. Down in front. You’re blocking my view of the TV with your big-ass cranium.”

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Jerk,” I snapped.

He didn’t remove his arm from around me. Just laughed and gave me a squeeze. “You love me,” he said.

“Do I?”

“Yes—I’m your best friend. You have to.”

“My best friend who is a jerk to me,” I snapped playfully, smiling, giving him a gentle whack in the chest with the back of my hand again.

He chuckled again and gave me another squeeze. “Is it okay for me to leave my arm here?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

At first, I didn’t think much of it. He’d put his arm around me before. Usually in public when he was trying not to lose me at school or the rare occasion we went to the mall with our friends. Or the local fan convention. It was always casual. Nothing behind it.

Slowly, I became very well aware that his hand was warm. I could feel its heat even though he wasn’t even touching me with it. It was just dangling in the air where his forearm was braced against my shoulder.

“Your hand’s gonna fall asleep,” I said after a while.

“It fell asleep a few minutes ago,” he replied. “It got better.”

“Wanna move it?”

“Sure.” He shuffled so he was even closer to me and his hand could rest against my side. “This okay?”

“Sure.”

His hand hadn’t been against my side for two minutes before his thumb started to rub back and forth against my shirt. The movement was comforting. I shuffled my position so my side was pressing into his hand. “Feel good?” he asked. 

I nodded. “Can I... rest my head on your chest?”

He smiled at me. “Of course.”

I leaned so I could put my head between his shoulder and chest. I could still see the movie but I was snuggled up against him.

Blake started rubbing his whole hand up and down my side and arm. I smiled softly. “This okay?” he asked.

“Mmhmm.”

He kept at it. I wasn’t really paying attention to the movie anymore, and I doubted he was either. I was focused on his hand on my side and arm. Warm, slightly callused.

I gasped lightly when his rubbing of my side pulled up my shirt enough that when he went up again, he went under my shirt. My back tensed, arching slightly. His hand was really warm. And it felt really good. The touch was firm enough not to tickle, but gentle enough to slide easily.

“Is this okay?” he asked as his hand trailed higher up my side, fingers running over my ribs.

I nodded. “Yeah.” I sounded breathless to my own ears.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him grinning softly.

He started to trace his fingertips over my bare skin. Not just my side. Daring to delve across my torso. One of his fingers flicked a quick circle around the skin of my navel.

My breathing grew short when his thumb dug lightly into my side just under my lowest rib, coming in little gasps. The movie was still playing but I had no idea what was even going on in it anymore. Had the final fight started yet? Were the credits rolling? Who knew? Certainly not me. And not Blake either, judging by how he was looking at me when my eyes rolled back just enough to see him.

“Blake... w... wait...” I was even more breathless.

His hand disappeared from my skin—and goosebumps rose where it grew cold from the lack of contact.

I squirmed, body seeking that warmth of his hand.

“D... don’t stop,” I whispered. “Please.”

He looked down at me, lips slightly parted and eyebrows tilted. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Y-yeah.”

His hand found the bare skin of my torso again. I sighed and leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering.

I craned my neck to look up at him, only to find him still staring at me.

Breath still coming in thrilled little gasps, I bit my lower lip lightly between my teeth.

His unnaturally vibrant teal eyes were nearly swallowed by the size of his pupils. Under my head, his chest moved with heavy breathing. He swallowed and kept staring at me. “Kiss me,” he breathed.

Everything had been driven out of my head. Anxieties, worries—all gone. Chased away by his touch on my skin.

I straightened up until we were level enough for me to kiss him, but hesitated before doing so.

“Please,” he whispered, the word cracking with desperation.

I reached around his head, sliding my fingers over his short, dark reddish-brown hair, and drew him closer to me.

The kiss was short. A gentle test.

I pulled away, eyes fluttering open to stare at him.

He stared at me too. We just looked into each other’s eyes for several long, breathless seconds.

Before Blake was grabbing at my shoulders and pulling me back in while I balled his tank top straps up into my fists to yank him closer. His tongue plunged into my mouth and I sucked on it.

His hands ran roughly down my back, one of them skirting over my backside to hook around my thigh farthest away from him. He pulled.

I figured out what he meant and shifted my position until I could swing my leg up and straddle his lap. He sighed out his nose, both of his hands holding the small of my back and digging slightly into the skin on either side of my spine.

I took a turn dipping my tongue into his mouth while my hand slid up his neck and over his short hair, scratching my nails into his scalp. He moaned quietly and held me closer.

My head was spinning but thoughts and worries weren’t among the chaos. All I was aware of was sensations. His warm hands. His soft mouth. His arousal forming in his lap.

I moved to pull myself back just enough to be respectful and not embarrass him, but he chased my retreating hips with his own, rocking up into me with a groan that was almost a whine. His hands slid from my back to my hips and pulled me down against him. “Don’t go,” he whispered, lips sloppy against mine.

I tilted my head for a better angle and pushed my tongue into his mouth. He sucked on it. “I’m not.”

His hands on my hips hooked his fingers over the waistband of my shorts. “Can I take these off?”

“If I can take yours off.”

“Please,” he begged. My breath shuddered in and out of my lungs as I found his belt and undid it. He sighed in relief as I popped the button on his waistband and pulled his shorts. We both adjusted our positions so the other could remove clothing. Our shirts quickly followed our shorts.

We were both breathing hard, sweat, saliva, and condensation gathering on our skin.

“Is this okay?” Blake asked.

“Yes. Please, Blake. Please don’t stop.”

His hands chased after sensitive spots all over my body, making me moan.

“Bedroom?” He glanced toward the door to his room.

I nodded frantically.

He hooked his hands under my thighs and stood, carrying me into his room and kicking the door shut behind us. We spilled onto the bed.

“C’mere, beautiful,” Blake breathed, drawing me closer into the heat of his bare skin.

—

Alternative Situation #3 (Different Opening)

With a deep breath, I returned to consciousness. My neck was aching a little bit and there was something thumping under my ear. Peeling my eyes open, I saw dark teal blackout curtains with weak morning sunlight trying to peer around them. I recognized them. Blake’s room. The clouds that matched the curtains on the duvet cover was draped over me.

Blake’s bed. I’d never slept in his bed before. The occasional nap on top of the covers, sure. But not in the bed.

I sighed slowly and blinked lethargically.

It wasn’t just my neck aching. My whole body was sore. I grimaced at the feeling of it. The flinch made me realize that I was entirely naked.

The fatigue vanished in a puff of smoke. Clarity came back.

I was lying on Blake’s bare chest. The thumping I heard was his heartbeat under my ear. His arm was around me, under my neck, holding me against his side. He was warm. A light sheen of sweat clung to both of us, sticking our skin together.

A tidal wave of memories crashed into me as I realized how I got here.

[skunkes]

im trying to work on this Now but I have an issue when drawing full (human) bodies where ill sketch the whole thing pretty well, but as soon as i detail the face suddenly the whole head looks too Big or Small for the body and the whole thing is thrown out of whack as i try to adjust the body to match...

i realize its because there should be less detail on a face when its "further away" (as you would be if viewing a full body, or even because a barebones sketch doesnt account for like things that'd change the shape a lot like Hair, but even then i struggle as soon as the face comes into play (even if i leave it until the end, and even if its still in the blocking shapes sketch form) dpoes anyone know what im talking about/how to deal wit it...

i do fear its mostly style (like maybe if i drew Big stylized features it wldnt look so out of place) which will be very difficult to fix...

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

SW Request Guidelines

This list is not cemented or exhaustive in any capacity, and will be occasionally updated, so please be sure to keep an eye on this post in my #frostfics masterlist and/or check before you make a request if you'd like some inspiration.

**Remember above all else, friends: 'this is War of Stars and Shit's Whack Anyways'. I more believe in having *fun* with the source material above strict adherence to it. If someone requested something that did not strictly adhere to whatever the current canon is, that's their choice. We all have our favorite aspects of Star Wars and they will not always align with another person's.**

UPDATED: 7/11/24

What I WILL Do

Headcanon requests

Drabbles

One shots

Short series (IF I am inspired by the request)

When it comes to X Readers: I can comfortably write in 1st, 2nd, or 3rd Person POVs. My default is 2nd and 3rd person, for the most part! (Readers can also have nicknames, if that is your preference!)

Want to request a non-x reader? I can do that too, don't be shy!

Tropes including but not limited to: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Enemies-to-Lovers/Idiots-to-Lovers, One Bed/Escape Pod, Fix-its, Soulmate, and Domestic.

Popular occupations or specified reader-types like Medic, Mechanic, Bounty Hunter, Jedi, etc.

As much or as little Clones-using-Mando'a as you'd like. Familial terms only? Sure! You wanna go for Oops! All Pet Names? You got it. You're allergic to Clones using Mando'a? Cool beans, buddy, I can do that and correct any slip-ups! (I know not everyone subscribed to that fanon trope like I did and/or for the same reasons I did.)

Platonic or romantic relationships

Implied smut/Mature on occasion! [Will range from 13+ to 18+ age rating depending on my comfort and familiarity with the requested character.]

I have more familiarity in writing AFAB/Female and Gender Neutral x Readers. I often write the general, physical description of Reader in a very vague, more "poetic" manner unless otherwise specified in the request. [Should be noted I am very unfamiliar with writing AMAB/Male x Readers so I'm afraid I'm likely not the one who will be best to ask.]

We're LGBT+ friendly; I'm a bi woman in my twenties for goodness sake. 🩷💜💙

Most SW characters, really. If you have a particular character in mind that isn't in my main niches of interest, I can probably swing it. There'll be better luck if you request something from one of my favorite eras (The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch, The Mandalorian). Please keep in mind that the less I know of a character, the longer it'll take me to complete. 

Like a particular fanon trope [ex: Gray Jedi] and want to see my take on it? Sweet, glad you trust me! I'll certainly do my best depending on what's requested.

We're AU and canon-divergent friendly here! You ordered the "No Order 66 AU with Domestic!Clone Boyfriend" with an order of "Somehow, ____ Lived." on the side? Coming right up!

Is it well past time for everything to Just Stop™ for your fave? We can magically give them a little break.

I will postpone or delete a request if you're impatient with me. I'm doing this for free, for FUN, on my own time with no set schedule. I have ADHD tendencies (and chronic health conditions) and sometimes the inspiration is just not there. Do not be an entitled little snot or you'll get put in timeout.

What I Will NOT Do

Whitewash the Clones. We believe in evidence of Temuera Morrison's physical characteristics in our Clone husbands/boyfriends here.

Art requests: Most of the fan art I'm posting in the #frostsfanart tag is done on whim, vibes and impulse; and it's a miracle some of those have gotten popular.

Sidenote: There is a *chance* you'll get an art response to an ask if I feel I can pull it off, or, if you give me an idea. [An acceptable example would be asking me if I've ever done a helmet doodle for XYZ before.]

Explicit smut as of now. Nothing against it, but I had a more conservative upbringing; I currently struggle with writing that material without unnecessary guilt.

Your OC x Canon. Don't want to butcher your brain-child by mischaracterizing them by accident. Not running that risk; doubt this would be a thing that would be requested but I'm just covering my bases.

I am not personally comfortable with Clonecest or Clone-shipping. They are brothers and refer to each other as such in-canon. I understand people will do as they please, but I do not support this material. Respect my boundaries.

Will absolutely NEVER do requests involving incest, dub-con/non-con, or general bigotry (homophobia, racism, etc). You will be fed to the Rishi Moon eels instead of Cutup. I'll free Echo and put you in his place on Skako Minor before anyone notices I'm there. Get lost, please.

I am not comfortable with the Rex/Ahsoka business or Master x Padawan romance. Platonic takes on Master x Padawan!Reader dynamic is acceptable. Characters need to be of-age for romances. Ahsoka was only 17 at the end of Clone Wars, for stars' sake.

I Will Love You If You Let Me

Talk about my Clone OCs!!

As the Clone Wars is my favorite era in this Galaxy Far, Far Away, I have a LOT of Clone OCs. I keep track of them in an Excel spreadsheet, so chances are a "throwaway" name that's not found in any Star Wars series is one of my boys.

Chances are good that I throw one or two in a fic as a cameo, as well! Some of them are more fleshed out than others with proper canon, while others have none at all.

Talk about my own fics from time to time!

I promise, there's no need to be shy!

I reread my own work often enough, and I'd love to have you stop by my ask box (on or off anon) with any questions you might have about what you've read! I'll gladly elaborate on why I wrote a scene like that or the particular headcanon(s) I've worked into the fabric of the story.

You're more than welcome to drop by and gush about things too. Authors truly do love to hear back from the people who've taken the time to read what we've written. 🩷

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

1 and 5

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

hmm, well I can read this in a couple ways. like, i can usually get WHY someone ships something but a lot of the times i either fail to see the appeal or they’re so fanon it might as well be different characters, so why the insistence of the ship? otherwise, i can often think it’s a good ship but just not get why people are so obsessed with it or why it’s their OTP

so, everyone knows I’m gonna say sonadow, but this also applies to blazamy and infidget. like, it screams “i need a basic mlm ship where i just replace one character with a self insert and woobify the other one, and i’ll erase the canon love interest by giving her comphet and shipping her with the other girl character that way everyone is happy” like 💀 the creativity is on the floor. hell, gadget isn’t even a real canon character he’s just a fandom-owned oc! i’m cool with oc ships, but the people who declare him a real character confuse the hell out of me because he doesn’t have a canon personality or traits beyond the universal avatar so like. no he’s not lol. (you can like gadget btw i just don’t get ships with him especially infidget)

on a less “y’all are whack” scale and moreso a just “i don’t understand your lifestyle but it’s cool” i gotta say, a lot of the idw ships people have and yes this includes tangle and whisper because LOOK I LOVE THEM THE SHIP IS GREAT but it’s like, “mlegh i canon do much with this” energy. i get the ship but i don’t get the enthusiasm, y’know? bugbear is an exception btw

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

Hahahahahahaha, YES! now, bsc veterans may remember that i was doxxed by sonadow shippers in the 2000’s fandom, and that a certain discord server resulted in the near death of a bestie (long story that i hate talking about for privacy reasons, but i’m not exaggerating). y’allso know i’m not really good with its sister ship blazamy because i just mentioned it

HOWEVER. i have bigger issues with EVERY SILVER SHIP and wavouge. wavouge was literally my cool fruity best friends who are also girlfriends but not exclusively girlfriends because they’re like,,, free spirits and stuff. and y’all DOMESTICATED them. jail. prison. you turned them into blazamy again but this time with the stereotypical “omg hot girls do crime and they were girlfriends” trope. it screams tumblr “make everything lesbians” culture and it grosses me out. it’s like those fucking posts where someone talks about rewriting a story or myth or fixing a ship in a show or suggesting a media prompt and then someone responds with “but make it gay/what if they were both girls/let then be lesbians” and it’s just more basic lesbians. bland. boring. unoriginal. the fandom has taken so many cool relationship dynamics and just reduced them down to “uwu cute gay ppl i love them aaaa” like WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE EDGY SPICE!!! THE DEPTH!!! THE FLAVOUR!!! i’m like not aggressive mad rn i’m goofy-mad for the record because this shit bothers me but don’t hold every word i say as “the ultimate truth” i’m just casually rambling. you can have joke posts like a lot of my infinite doodles and how i respond to asks about dog&hog, but the difference is that is for HUMOUR and they are still dark complex characters in my canon even when i don’t take them seriously on tumblr

but anyways, back to silver. one word: woobification. i do not trust anyone with silver ships except myself and like a few other besties because it’s such gross mischaracterization for me? between him and scourge, some people just do not know how to act and make them so pathetic and docile and borderline stupid. i can’t enjoy most silver ships because a good portion of the content will just piss me off lolol. like, when silver is treated the same way as kat valentine from victorious i know something is SERIOUSLY wrong. ruins so much fandom content for me personally

also this isn’t ship-specific and it’s usually taboo to mention, but i am sick and tired of the intense feminization of transmasc characters. i know people will always respond with “oh but you can’t say that you’re attacking real transmascs who look like that! they can identify however they want!” but i would like to remind you that i am talking about fake people, not real ones. when an actual transmasc identifies with feminine traits and rocks that shit, they’re a real person who is well rounded with interests and likes and personality. when a FICTIONAL CHARACTER is reduced to their transness and frequently exploited for it, it makes me extremely uncomfortable and ruins characters and the ships they’re in for me. the fact that people project so hard onto these characters to an unhealthy degree that my criticisms of the fanonization feels like personal attacks on their identity says it all: let go of the blorbo, they are not yours and they are not you. let other people disagree with the fanon and not make it about how they invalidate your existence, because this has nothing to do with you actually.

and before someone comments, i do NOT mean we should abolish trans characters or not draw them with non-transitioned traits. you have have trans characters in your ships, etc etc but some of y’all just do not know how to act lol. some of my tumblrbesties on here have fantastic trans rep (you know who you are) and if fandom was more like them, a lot of ships wouldn’t be ruined for me

[salty-lemon-shark-from-the-sea]

Princess Pea x GN! Knight Reader

(Haven’t seen any fanfics for Princess Pea, so I thought I’d make one!) “Princess?” You ask knocking on the door. Savory smells floated through the air and the sounds of all the villager just outside the walls makes its way through the corridors.

“Come in,” a quiet voice calls from behind the door. Upon entering you were meet with the princess fixing her hair. “Ah (Y/n) there you are! Could you help lace up the back of my dress it seems to have loosen while father gave the speech,” she exclaims turning back to the mirror.

Walking over you take the lace and finish up the back not seeing the blushing princess. “Thank you,” she says turning to you. “Anytime m’lady,” you say bowing cause her to giggle. “Now are you ready for the banquet?” You ask holding out a hand.

“Of course,” Princess Pea replys happily grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door to the dinning room. Once there she lets go of your arm, so her father doesn’t see.

Heading to your spot next to the princess you stand strait with your helmet covering your face. Trumpets start to blow as the head chef walks out carrying a bowl. (I love how everyone gasp like they never seen soup)

Once he finally reaches the queen the head chef gives her a ladle full of the soup. “This is amazing,” the queen says grabbing a spoon. After that you kind of zone out staring at the princess till you hear a plop and some gasp.

“It moved,” the Queen remarks. “The soup moved,” “No no no no i-itz did not move,” the chef says. Just then a rat pops out with a mushroom on its head and wearing tiny cloths.

“GAH!” The Queen screams dropping her spoon. “Darling?” The King ask leaning over. “A rat! There’s a rat in my soup!” The Queen complains causing you to lean over to see the rat try to explain itself?

“Gah there’s a rat in my soup and I ate it! *dying bird noise*” just then the queen drops into her soup as the rat comes toward the princess. Grabbing the handle of your sword you ready yourself to attack.

“Its a rat!” The Princess shrieks. “Get me that rat!” The king commands causing you and the guards to chase after it. “Alright boys let’s go!” You yell chasing after it.

“Kitchen, he’s going for the kitchen!” The head chef yells running after the rat. “Stop that rat!” While you and other guards try to grab him.

“Get back here,” you mumble following it to the big soup pot. Knowing you should go look after the royal family you head back to the dinning room. Making a bee line for the Princess and the King.

“Sweetie, darling?” The King ask shaking he’s wife. “She’s, she’s, she’s, d-d-d-,” “Blimey she’s dead,” another guard says. “Get him!” He yells as the rest follow after the rat.

Not to far behind you see a guard throw a turnip at the rats head causing it to fall on the shot leading to the giant soup. The head chef just making it in time to move the shot out of the way lunching the rat on your foot.

Some guard then brings a malet down on it trying to hit the rat, but misses terribly. “Hit the rat you idiot not me!” You yell following the rat to a grater. “Oh we got you now,” you say. Trying to stab the rat, but it just ends up falling down the sewer.

Turning around you wack the guard who hit your foot. You and some other guards head back to the dining room. “Can’t believe the Queen is dead, and by a rat never the less,” one of the guard said.

“Yeah what way to go next thing you know soup will be banned!” The other one jokes. “Stop both of you,” you hiss whacking both of their heads. “What of the King or Princess heard you their clearly going to be morning,” you say walking in front.

“Yeah mate you could have hurt (Y/n)’s future wife’s feelings,” the guard jokes elbowing the other. Quickly turning on your heel you face both of the men. “Stop it! The princess and I can’t get married she’ll probably just marry some hot prince,” you say waving your hands.

“Just saying caption you have a chance,” the guard says walking past your hidden blushing face. “Whatever,” you mumble catching up to them as the dinning doors open.

Looking around you make “eye contact” with the Princess. It took every atom in both of your body’s not to run to each other. Walking over you place a hand on the King’s shoulder.

“Sir I know you love your wife, but please let us take the body to get ready to bury,” you say. “No no no no no,” was all the King could whisper. Turning to you commands for help they come over and pry the King away.

“Your highness I think it’s best if your go to your privet chambers,” one of them says help the King to stand. “She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone,” the King repeats walking out of the room.

Turning back no one was moving. “Alright people go home the banquet is over!” You shout startling everyone. “You two,” you point at two guards. “Take the body to the morgue and tell the guy to wait on the process,” you command waiting for them to move.

Yet no one was moving. “WELL WE DONT HAVE ALL DAY!!” You yell starting everyone into a scurry. Turning back to the Princess you see her being taken away by her maidens. “Caption?” a guard ask.

“What?” You ask. “Um the King wishes to speak with you,” the now shaking guard says. “Thank you,” you say dryly walking to the King’s chambers.

Knocking on the door you wait. “Come in,” a voice beckons you. “Your Highness you called for me,” you say entering. “What did you do with the body?” He ask facing the window.

“We sent it to the morgue sir,” answer looking to the ground. “Hmm alright, send a message to the mortician I want the funeral ready for tomorrow,” he commands.

“Yes sir is there anything else?” You question. “Yes, (Y/n),” he says turning to you. “You only job is to look after my daughter I don’t need to lose her too,” he orders eyes red from crying and throat dry. “Yes sir!” You say saluting before leaving.

“You boy!” You calling pointing to a servent. “Run to the morgue and tell the mortician to have the body ready by tomorrow for the funeral, and hurry,” you command heading to the Princess’s room.

“Princess Pea!” you call from the other side of the door. “May I come in your majesty?” you question. The door then opens causing you to move out of the way as all of the maidens walk past you giggling.

“(Y/n)?” her voice asks. God your name sounded so nice coming from her. “Yes your majesty it's me,” you say stepping through the door. “Oh (Y/n)!” she cries throwing herself on you. “Shh,” you whisper combing her hair.

“She’s gone and all cause of a rat,” the Princess cry. “Yes I know,“ you comfort leading her to the bed. Setting her done you sit next to her removing your helmet. Princess Pea looks over to you only then to quickly look away blushing, or to hide her tear-stained face.

“It’ll be alright,” you hug her. “What if it doesn't?” she asks looking up at you. “Then you'll always have this knight to save you,” you state proudly puffing up your chest and flexing. “*giggle* well with you as my night nothing could go wrong,” she says getting close to you.

“Captain (Y/n)!” “Princess Pea!” a guard and Maiden Louise call for you. “Princess you need to rest up after that and get ready for bed the funeral is tomorrow,” the maiden says walking to the closet.

“Captain you have to do portal for the night,” the guard says saluting. “Alright we'll then-,” “Will you be at the funeral?” the Princess asks grabbing your arm. “Yes, some higher-ranking guards and I will be on the side to mourn with you,” you say placing your helmet back on.

“Alright then see you tomorrow,” she says walking over to her Louise who was holding a more comfortable dress then the formal dress she was wearing. As the princess starts to undress you quickly walk away “What were you staring at?” the guard jokes poking your side as you leave.

“N-nothing,” you reply struggling to hide your stutter. Leaving you didn't notice a certain someone smiling after overhearing your conversation.

“Oh, your majesty what on earth are you smiling about?” Louise asks taken back by the smiling Princess after her mother died not too long ago. “Hmm oh nothing,” Pea quickly exclaims.

“I know what it is,” Louise says wiggling her eyebrows. “What?” the Princess ask slipping into the new dress. “Your in love this that caption (Y/n) are you not?” Louise ask.

“What?!” Pea ask almost dropping the dress. “I see the way you look at each other with love,” the maid pen say trying the back. Only Pea was wishing it was you doing that.

“Even if I did it I can't just marry the Caption (Y/n),” she states. “Why not? Their quite the catch I must say,” this causes the Princess to blush madly. “Suprised no one has ask them the question already,” the maiden thinks out loud.

Pea’s mind started to fill with thoughts of someone courting you. Cling to your arm. Kissign you. Living happily married while she marry some other prince who just wants to carry on the blood line.

“Your majesty are you okay?” Louise ask. Coming back to reality the Princess realizes how hard she was holding the comb. “I'm yes I'm fine just wish to be alone now,” she says standing up.

“As you wish your majesty,” Louise says moving out of the way. “Ring if you need anything,” she finishes walking out of the room. The princess then turns towards the window and sits on the chair. Waiting for tomorrow.

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (vol. 1) #22:The Time Traveler Returns

Read Date: June 30, 2023 Cover Date: June 1989 ● Writer: Mark Martin ● Pencils: Mark Martin ● Inks: Mark Martin ● Letterer: Steve Lavigne ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● gaspu there’s a purple mask on the cover!! is this when the ditch the all red masks? ● heheh, that little bug is flipping (my guess is Michelangelo) off

● at least this is starting out as a more street-level story. so far, anyway. ● never mind. it’s gone off the rails again. ● Pee-Wee! ● 👏👏

Synopsis: As the issue begins, the turtles are ransacking their lair after receiving a bomb threat, shortly after their encounter with the Time Traveler girl from issue #16. The lads aren't having any luck locating the explosive, but Leonardo is confident that the threat is real… as his "Turtly Sense" is tingling. As Leo appeals to his brothers to continue the search, Raphael grabs the TV remote out of boredom. As he clicks the button, Leo screams, "NO!" and then the TV launches a bomb out of its screen. Meanwhile, six years in the future, we see the young girl emerging from her time machine. She's pleased to have arrived safely home, after her problems back in issue #16. She's not so pleased to find a bizarro monster waiting for her (although it does offer her a cookie). The girl screams and flees her apartment, by crashing through a second story window. Fortunately, the monster completes an acrobatic catch and sets her safely to the ground, where the child bursts into another sprint. The creature then zaps the terrified child with a freezing ray and engages her in conversation.

We learn that the alien is an ambassador of an alien race called the Skwal. His name is an unpronounceable symbol, so he goes by the name of "George." We finally find out that the girl's name is Dale Evans McGillicutty. George explains that Dale is in big trouble—as is all of humanity. The Skwal have been watching the planet Earth, attempting to keep the human race from destroying themselves (unfortunately the aliens arrived too late, so things on Earth are already too messed up to fix). George has a particular interest in Dale, as she invented the time machine (although thanks to her manipulation of time, she actually didn't - ah temporal anomalies). George needs Dale to use her time machine to go back 2 million years into the past and attempt to change the mindset of humanity, to make the species less violent and thereby giving hope to the future of the race and planet. However, the window of opportunity is closing rapidly, as the Skwal scientists only think that there's one day left in the time machine's life before it pops out of existence for good. The girl reluctantly agrees to go on the mission, but insists on taking some cargo with her. As Dale activates the machine, things go all higglety pigglety.

Cut back to the present. Master Splinter is there with the four turtles… who are now four odd looking robots. Splinter explains that the bomb went off and blew the Turtles to bits, but he's managed to save their parts as well as their brains, which he's had to place into the robots for safe keeping. As Master Splinter gets busy piecing the Turtles' bodies back together, the TMNRobots head off to Bill's TV Repair to pay April's electric bill. We discover that Bill is demented and very angry at April for refusing to go out with him - so angry that he planted the bomb in her television that blasted our hapless heroes to smithereens. After Bill rants about April, he finally notices the four whacked 'bots in his building and assumes that they're devils. The crazed repairman then activates his giant TV Robot, which attacks the Turtlebots. As the battle ensues, Raph manages to wrest the TV Robot's remote control from Bill, and commands it to sit… unfortunately, the mechanical monster is standing directly above Bill and Raphbot when it receives the command…

Two million years in the past, Dale emerges from her time machine, and is quickly attacked by an apeman. Fortunately the girl has George's ray gun, and she freezes her ancestor in mid-leap. Dale explains to monkeyboy that she's here to make his life easier, so he won't be so violent and humanity will evolve into a more peaceful race. She teaches him about gardening and presents him with a comfy recliner. The Time Traveler also gives the apeman a mask of Jocko (an Australian actor who used to sell batteries in American TV commercials… very odd TV commercials), to protect him from predators. Finally, Dale gives monkeyboy a puppy, for him to snuggle and care for. Mission accomplished, Dale gets back into her time machine and heads for home.

When Dale emerges from the machine, George is ecstatic. Evil men across the globe are turning over a new leaf and becoming more admirable. The world is currently a confused mess, but by morning everyone should have morphed into far nicer creatures, thus making Earth a veritable paradise of peace and love. "No more armies… no more wars… no more weapons…" muses the Skwal…

"In short, nothing to defend yourselves from the Invasoskwals! This great paradise will be ours!" the crafty alien finishes.

"You tricked me!!" exclaims Dale.

Things go haywire once again, and then we cut back to April's apartment, where we find the Turtles returned to their old selves. As they celebrate with Casey Jones and Master Splinter, Mike's soda can pops out of existence. As he asks if anyone saw it happen, April calls out to them to come quick. As the guys rush to find out what's wrong, we see that April is watching the Pee Wee Herman show, and the secret word of the day is "turtle." As Splinter laments the mess the Turtles have made of the place, everyone starts losing their memory… and then the TMNT and Master Splinter revert into their original, non-mutated animal forms. Casey looks up from a crossword puzzle and asks April if she said something… in the final panel we see Ms. O'Neil delighted to find four normal turtles on her sofa.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/The_Time_Traveler_Returns)

Fan Art: Tmnt by DanHowardArt

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

7 for strange, 9 for hook? ❤️

You too? Everyone wants to see me fumble with Hook huh... /light hearted

7. “You’re safe/alive” kiss + Strange... I was really tempted to do "withdrawal era" general canon, but I did general canon for the other ask. So I took a whack at Gotham canon!

Zacharie’s usual observed response to anything that even potentially made faer anxious was violence. Robbed of that option at the moment, Zacharie instead found faerself covering faers ears. There was confused rage flitting through faers eyes like the remnants of fireworks do the night sky. Yelling was quieted by Strange shutting the office door.

Fae was curled up in the chair when he looked over. There was blood staining parts of faers uniform. It was a miracle fae was mostly unscathed. Without faers gadgets and gizmos, he’d found that Zacharie (or rather, Kronos) was mostly unable to defend faerself. All bark, no bite.

This could be fixed, but for the moment, Zacharie was afraid. Fae didn’t seem to hear him walk up behind the chair, and jumped when he put a hand on faers shoulder. Zacharie looked a lot like a wounded animal. A tiger or something else grand, to specify. One that knew it had no options to defend itself left, and now was at the mercy of the thing that stumbled upon its bleeding form. That grandiose way fae regarded faers own capabilities had been thoroughly shattered in that staged fight, hadn’t they?

Though fae cowered, Zacharie did not try to escape his wandering hand. If anything, fingers carding through faers hair seemed to soothe faer. Strange delighted in the way the shaking died into barely perceptible tremors, leaning into his hand.

“I didn’t start it.”

Strange hummed. “I know.”

“This isn’t a punishment?”

“No,” Strange said, and Zacharie sighed in relief. “By no means is this a punishment. Once everything out there is sorted, you’ll be able to go clean up. I’ll arrange something more private.”

Maybe the fact Strange very obviously fancied faer had its perks. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I doubt public showers would do anything but further aggravate this obvious panic attack.”

Zacharie bristled. “I’m not panicking,” and fae tried to put venom behind it.

“It’s fine that you are,” and now he was cupping faers cheek, instead of playing with faers hair. “It makes sense.”

Faers mouth opened to say something, but fae couldn’t settle on what. In the end faers silence was ended by something else. He leaned in and kissed faer, and under any other circumstance, Zacharie would’ve joked about the inappropriate nature of it all. Wasn’t fae supposedly a patient, not a captive? Even as a captive, would this have not been severely imbalanced (in Strange’s favor, no less?)

When he pulled away, Zacharie at least managed a humorous little thing of a grin. “You look like a shark who smelled blood in the water.”

“Oh really?” He chuckled. “Such a dangerous idea. Is that how you see me?”

“Maybe I cut my arm and let it bleed.”

“A willing victim,” he mused. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“So maybe I’m anxious,” and fae said it like all that was meant to lead into it. “Maybe that’s the slit down my arm, leaving a red cloud to call the carnivores.”

“Is that what you see anxiety and fear as? A weakness, one that’s begging the apex predators of the world to devour you whole?” Fae couldn’t tell if the concern was feigned or genuine. It was likely he’d meant it, at least.

Fae didn’t answer properly. Fae just smirked. “Smoke or another kiss. Pick how you’re paying for that information.”

He was amused enough to kiss faers forehead this time, moving to his desk drawer moments later. “How luck you are that I can afford both.”

9. Underwater kiss + Hook. Okay, this one's based off an old doodle I did. I had to get the idea out of my head, Glumiko pulling Hook overboard with the whole "what's wrong, Captain? Can't you swim?"

“Glumiko, I’m being serious!”

Yet fae tugged him over regardless. “C’mon! What’re you scared of?”

Maybe if he were more angry, he would’ve at least been red faced. This though, he just looked more like the cornered fish Glumiko used to eat. “You know exactly what!”

“I bit him once,” and fae held out the arm that bore the scar—the arm fae never covered. “I’d bite him twice.”

“I’d at least prefer to not be pulled over—“ Glumiko tipped past the wall, dragging Hook down with faer. “—board!”

They both hit the water with a splash. Glumiko put forth the effort to not turn fully into a squid beneath the surface. Fae reminded him idly of a mermaid, with that humanoid upper half. Fae was laughing as they sunk, bubbles escaping up to the world beyond the water. He would’ve wrenched his hand from Glumiko’s two, but fae easily let him slip away.

Fae watched him go up for air, overall looking like a cat forced into a bath. There were members of the crew staring down from the ship, murmuring all sorts of things. Glumiko was trying to decide what would be an acceptable prank while he glowered down at faer. It wasn’t real anger, nor was it fear at this point. Glumiko had seen him properly mad.

With gusto, fae grabbed his boot, and tugged him back under. There was all kinds of surprise above, and Hook himself looked at least a tad shocked. Glumiko was a giggling mess though.

So pranks are what we’re pulling now, eh?

His hand came to cup faers cheek, and fae stopped to look at him. Hook saw the way Glumiko’s face went bright pink as he leaned in, and the ink leaking off tentacles leaving streaks in the water. He kissed faer like it was nothing, like kissing one of the squid people while they tried to play practical jokes on you was entirely too mundane.

Ink was smudged on him like lipstick when he pulled away. Fae looked ready to explode. Glumiko grabbed him after he got his chance to look smug, kissing him right back. Pulling back for air wasn’t much of an option, but luckily, he could bring himself not to care.

When the second kiss was broken, Glumiko had a horrid look of realization. Hook was about to cock his head, to try to ask, but then Glumiko was pulling him back up toward the surface.

“You need to breathe,” he heard, Glumiko popping out of the water first. “Sorry, sorry! You were supposed to look mad, then you were supposed to swim back up!”

“No, no.” Glumiko still looked dreadfully embarrassed. “I know what I chose,” and the water around faer flushed with neon ink.

“I… Um… Y-you…”

Honestly, maybe he was too flattered by the way this predator of the sea looked. By the way fae turned into a schoolgirl with a crush over these sorts of things. Then though, he got a splash of ink to the face. “Not fair, not fair! You’re no fair, Captain!”

[ahdenyadahling]

Final Fantasy XV- Fate & Destiny

Chapter Two, Part One

Chapter Two: Fight or Flight

Storm clouds were rolling in just as I had finished cleaning out the Chocobo coop and rotating the eggs. We had two full-grown Chocobo females left. We had five females and two males six months ago, but as I previously mentioned: predators. The females were dutiful egg-sitters, albeit somewhat clumsy. Sometimes an egg would roll away. It’s chances for survival after being in the open for less than a day were still high, but with this sudden chill to the air, I fortified their nests with more straw and a few sticks to better insulate them.

Not half an hour later, soft rain began to fall, and I breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of a new rain, the smell of the evergreen woods. I set my rake aside as I watched my mother open the front door, leaning forward to call to me:

“Deni, you’d better hurry up and get inside. Didn’t you see that Engine above?”

I looked up, bringing my hand over my brow, blocking the rain as I scanned the sky. I caught sight of a glowing red orb perhaps a half-mile away, oddly stationary. I opened my mouth to tell her not to worry, it was still pretty far away, when thunder crashed so loudly, I nearly jumped in surprise. The airship floor opened, dropping its mechanical soldiers into the field. It was then that I noticed a purple-tinted car stop in front of them; it appeared three or four people jumped out to confront the soldiers.

The rain began to pour harder, faster, and I urged my mother to get inside. We began to hear the muffled shouts and the clanging of steel on steel, and I saw sparks fly from one of the damaged machines.

This was getting a little too close for comfort. Seeing that my mother had ducked back inside the house, I jogged to the fence to be sure the Chocobos were locked inside. I heard a few squawks, but they fell silent as I approached. A chill ran through my body as the rain began to soak through my clothes, and I froze, mid-step, paralyzed with fear. Perched atop our coop was a Voretooth, its mouth dripping with saliva. A tongue as long and thick as my arm lashed out as if measuring the distance between us. Its black eyes were now fixed on me, a bigger meal than a Chocobo chick. My hands went numb as my heart lurched into my throat, not knowing whether to make a run for it or not. I tried to recall the information my father gave me on combat and defending myself, but it was hard to do, seeing those razor-sharp teeth and claws not twenty feet from me. But two things did occur to me: get a weapon, and find out where the others were. I took my eyes from it for just a moment to search for a weapon, and when I broke contact, it lunged at me, clearing the five-foot tall fence in one pounce. When it jumped, I rolled forward, under and past it, grabbing the only weapon available: my garden hoe.

Standing upright, holding the hoe like a staff, defensively in front of me, two more Voretooths appeared, circling around the first. My heart was pounding in my ears; I had no idea if I was going to get out of this alive. I heard my mother shout my name from inside the house, and as I began to shimmy toward the door, another creature appeared, blocking the entrance, lured there by my mother’s voice. She quieted, and I pictured her in tears, helpless in assisting her only child. I couldn’t let that one break down the door and get her, either. As the three in front of me snapped at each other as if trying to lay claim to me, I saw a brief opening. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled as I darted past the one on the left. I headed for higher ground, racing toward the closest tree in my yard. There was one perhaps fifty feet away. I got about fifteen feet before the left one turned, whacking me in the back with its strong tail, its tongue wrapping around my ankle. I fell with a thud to the dampened earth, quickly rolling over with the hoe in both hands, shielding my face as a set of massive teeth clenched down on the wooden handle. It tried to bite through as it shook its head like a dog with a toy. It snorted putrid breath in my face as its body writhed above me. Its companions stomped their feet, gnashed their teeth inches from my head. Saliva dripped from their jaws, streaking down my arm. It burned so badly, I wanted to curl up into myself and cry.

[captainadwen]

okay back with actual thoughts

I think ch 15 -- or at least, the ending of the game after ch 14 -- manages to zero in on what the main story of its game desperately wants its theme to be: a son stepping not only into the shoes of his father, but beyond them.

that's why not even the main story worries about refugees, rebuilding insomnia, or showing noctis growing into a king in the sense of ruling or leadership -- the story is very much about sons dealing with the sins of their (fore)fathers and trying to do better.

therefore, noctis collects his ancestor's powers, and then dies by them to bring peace to one they wronged.

to a decent extent ffxv accomplishes this thematic goal!

at the same time, accomplishing this one little thing means the rest of the many disparate elements are shallow by comparison.

i have to revise my earlier critique about him being called your highness even after regis dies, him getting called "majesty" only at his ascension is actually for once relevant to the theme -- that's the moment noctis becomes a king, in the sense of he's officially giving up his life for the sake of his people

so prior additions like the kingsglaive calling him majesty and him giving a royal speech are... unearned by comparison. noctis before this is not at all a king and doesn't even seem to want to be one, as evidenced by the fact not once does he actually express concern for the citizens that he is now nominally a leader for. you could argue that the sidequests fullfill this by showing him helping them, but sidequests aren't where character development happens.

the only way i can accept this is that they call him majesty as a quasy-religious figure of myth. because that's what he is king of. king of kings, king of light... not king of the people of lucis or eos

its one of those cases where a game absolutely nails the ending, but the actual path to getting there is just contradictory, awkwardly constructed, and makes some important parts feel unearned or not hit as hard. luna's death would have been more impactful if she'd been more of a protagonist role, and would have maybe made the last of the cutscenes feel earned. seeing insomnia in ruins would have been more impactful if we had seen it whole, or if noctis had at any point in the game made efforts to help refugees from it. the tense plotline of the main story might have even been less awkwardly fitting with the relaxed open world adventure if there had been more connection between the two.

so, they nailed their main theme, but all their secondary themes are whack.

(actually their main theme doesn't even become apparent until zegnautus, because before that its very much framed as "gain the power of your ancestors to reclaim your throne" before it instead turns into "you are fated to fix their mistakes actually", which is a switch I like! I think its great. I just wish it wasn't the only theme they nailed)

And it's done

Brb gotta cry