#initial study ;; starters

[mxchineherald]

[starter for @runes-menagerie.]

 He’d made a promise to her that he would take her with him, and he’d already broken it. She had a bad feeling about the meeting, but so did he. “I’m so sorry,” he said to her as he put her back onto the configuration table, “I cannot risk you being taken by them. I will be back! I won’t let anyone hurt you.” he activated the table, locking her in place to it so that she couldn’t follow him.

 And then he left her behind.

 Jayce had told him about the raid on Silco’s shimmer plant on the way to the meeting. He heard about the lives lost, including that of a child. His disgust was only measured by his iron will and patience, otherwise he would have beaten the walls with his crutch in his anger. A child. A child! There was no way to preserve peace, at this point, without giving in to Silco’s demands. He feared for his people – their future – under the rule of such a vindictively blind man, but this was their only choice. Jayce had made it so.

 And they were successful. After hours of debate and argument, the Council gave in, voting unanimously to grant Zaun its independence. There was something powerful about being in the room where it happened, but he wasn’t sure he would want to tell the tale.

 Then, there was a loud crack. He felt a shove against this augmented limbs, forcing him out of his chair and away from a bright gold dome that formed over Mel Medarda and Jayce. The BOOM left his ears ringing, but he could still hear Cassandra Kiramman’s shout of pain as he went flying. He slammed against a chunk of the now shattered round table. Two ribs snapped under the pressure, and something ripped open in his gut. His back came into hard contact with a stone column. Something plucked in his upper spine, sending a burning twinge up to his neck. He fell amongst the rubble, unable to get up while dust, ash, and bits of heated ember landed over him. The golden dome still persisted, but within it, he could spot the silhouette of Mel and Jayce, locked in a ducked down embrace. His augmented hand outstretched for Jayce before he lost the last of his strength, falling limp against the stone and wood. Vision faded, and soon with it went his hearing.

 Life came to him in brief flashes. Something jostling him from his uncomfortable position on the ground. Hands against his chest and neck. “Vi..tor? Viktor… Ope..y..eyes! Please!” Jayce. He was trying to wake him. Pointless. He could feel it. He was dying. There was a burning, torn feeling in his insides. He could feel his blood leaking into his abdominal cavity like a trickling river. Dread seeped into his core. Sky. She was in the lab, helpless. Without him there to explain, what would happen to her? The sound of tearing cloth caught his ears past the ringing, and he felt fresh air against his skin. He was so cold. Was he even on the ground anymore? No, he was moving. He was being carried, quickly.

 Jayce burst into the lab by kicking the doors open. Rushing up to the exam table, he set Viktor’s limp body down, being extra careful with his head. “Come on, Viktor… Stay with me…” He leaned down, gently stroking some hair out of his lab partner’s face. He felt so chilled to the touch, like there was barely any life left in him.

 Then, he rushed to the table, where Viktor’s notes were still spread across. Details on the Hexcore, its evolution, its transfiguration of his limbs. Seeing a journal set on top of them, he opened it up, flipping to the most recent pages, trying to find something – anything – that could help him understand what had happened to his partner.

 He was running out of time, and he couldn’t risk bringing Viktor to a hospital, not in his current state. They still had an Ethos, and he knew Piltover would be quick to use it against any Zaunite they could, now. If only Sky was here to help him. She was always quicker at reading Viktor's handwriting.

 He hadn’t yet noticed the Hexcore on the configuration table, but he was close enough to hear it.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

oh my god i figured it out

okay so it took an accident of me not checking on it, but I FINALLY figured out why I wasn't getting enough loft on my bread:

I was NOT giving enough time for yeast/bacteria production.

So if I do my other bread recipe's 4 hour levain development, then follow the pullman's recipe and do about an hour and a half initial rise (with stretch and folds) with a one hour final rest and rise, I get something like this:

okay that rose in the oven but like. not a whole lot, yknow?

tried again, a little longer on the levain, but this time I tried to do the final rest/rise in the fridge overnight like when you have an overnight ferment on a classic sourdough

oh that's a lot better! but the recipe is for a PULLMAN'S loaf, it should be square as possible, am I using enough ingredients?

NO I WAS. I JUST WASNT GIVING ALL THE TIMES ENOUGH TIME

this time I let the levain (40-50g starter, 35g whole wheat flour, 35g AP flour, 70 mL water) develop for like six and a half hours in a proofer or a slightly warmed oven.

pour levain into a stand mixer if you've got one, bowl if you dont. Mix in sugar (35g) and warm water (400mL). Let that sit for the usual half hour in proofer.

add flour (600ish grams total, i often do about a third whole wheat to two thirds AP), 5g salt, 80-90g fat of choice (butter, margarine, etc). I put it in the stand mixer for around 10 minutes on low. (this is a REALLY old stand mixer so it CAN go real slow- do 7-8 min on lowest setting on a modern mixer, 15 min if you wanna do a hand knead)

cover and put in proofer. As usual I did 4 stretch and folds at half hour intervals, but on the final interval I forgot about the timer- it was left in the bowl for around a full hour after the last fold rather than the planned half hour.

by the time I checked on it, it rose WAY more than i was expecting it to. Decided to roll with it (lol), greased the pullman's pan (butter if no one's allergic, margarine otherwise), flattened, rolled up the dough, plopped it in and slid on the lid.

Did the final rest for two full hours in proofing temps, then baked at 350-60ish for a half hour with the lid slid on, 15 min with the lid off.

so, all in all: the ideal loaf of pullman's sourdough starts when you wake up and comes out around dark lunch.

not practical but hey! an interesting study to be sure

[madame-fear]

Hi i was wondering if you could write an nsfw head cannon of jacaerys and his wife reader and what their intimate life is like, and like talk about stuff they do.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : headcanons, smut + slight fluff. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : : jacaerys velaryon x wife!reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; p in v, unprotected sex, sex from behind, bootfucking, breast play, creampie, slight mentions of mirror sex, oral sex (both receiving), mentions of you riding him, praising, slight mentions of spanking.

: ̗̀➛ Okay, so, for starters. Your intimate life naturally came after you were both officially married, and the bedding ceremony came. To respect your privacy, the two of you already had a chamber of your own to share, and you would be able to be as intimate as you wished.

: ̗̀➛ Initially, Jace would’ve been very soft and delicate with you. It’s in his gentleman nature to be careful, especially with the woman who was now his wife, and he so adored. Things would’ve gone slowly, but surely. And perhaps, there would’ve been a bit of foreplay and kisses before starting anything.

: ̗̀➛ Jace would press sweet, teasing pecks all across your cheek, going down to your jawline, focusing on giving your neck attention with his kisses — especially in a particular spot of your neck where Jace notices it makes you squirm and gasp —, and goes to your collarbone, savouring your skin with each peck.

: ̗̀➛ All the while, of course, Jace’s hands softly move behind your back, playing with the laces of your nightgown as he leisurely unties them, letting your gown become loose from your body, and fall from your shoulders. Being the gentleman he is, of course, Jacaerys would constantly ask you if you’re feeling comfortable with what he’s doing, if you want him to stop, or keep going; all with the most sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.

: ̗̀➛ His coffee eyes would look up at you admiringly, just like a fascinated puppy. You don’t want him to stop any sooner — if anything, the way he teased your skin by pressing soft kisses and caressing it leisurely with the tip of your fingers, merely got you all wet and needy for him. To which, you gave him the green light to keep going.

: ̗̀➛ And my god, you didn’t regret it. The second you approved for him to keep pleasing you, his hands rather desperately pulled down your gown, low enough to just expose your breasts. His mouth immediately took your hardened nipple in a delicate manner, using his tongue to tease it very lightly, and his teeth nibbled on your sensitive skin to leave some lovemarks, using his hands to pinch, twist, and rub your nipples.

: ̗̀➛ Pretty little hushed whimpers & moans would continuously escape from your lips as your eyes flutter shut, and you throw your head back; feeling your cunt grow wet and needy. Each sound that spurred from that beautiful mouth of yours, simply made Jace grow harder for you, with an overwhelming need to fuck you right there, and make you shout loudly his name for everyone to hear who you belong to.

: ̗̀➛ And so he did. By the time Jacaerys had already feasted a bit too much on your delicate skin and sweet breasts, his mouth abruptly pulled away from your tits after some minutes, making you gasp, and his firm yet gentle hand pushed you onto your back against the mattress, getting on tip of you, and fucking you fervently throughout the entire night, cumming in and out of your body several times.

: ̗̀➛ After such lovely bedding night, getting lovingly yet roughly fucked by the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would’ve gotten more and more used to explore your intimacy together - whether it’s privately, or... Even publicly, being a bit more bold.

: ̗̀➛ Jacaerys absolutely adores having you all submissive & needy, as much as it pains him to hold himself back from taking you right there all for him. So, whenever he’s either studying, reading in High Valyrian, or simply reading a book - he will absolutely have you sitting on the floor, whining and begging for him to take you.

: ̗̀➛ You look beautifully endearing just like that, and Jace will tease you by making you sit on top of his boot, and rubbing your needy moist cunt, bootfucking you. Continous desperate whines would escape from you, begging for him to fully take you - but not just yet. Jace prefers having you clinging to his leg, and seeing how you rub yourself with the tip of his boot.

: ̗̀➛ Jace always knows exactly what you like, and what you need. And he keeps the perfect balance between roughness, and gentleness at the same time. Part of him loves treating you as if you were the petal of a rose, or made of glass - delicately and lovingly. And another part of him simply wants to fuck you like a whore, like you need and want to get fucked, rough and disgusting. This, however, doesn’t mean he will not respect the boundaries you’ve set for each other, and afterwards, he will always ask you if you’re okay, and feeling comfortable.

: ̗̀➛ Sex from behind happens often, and I dare to say it’s one of his favourite positions, after having you riding him. The feeling of you becoming weaker with every pound of cock buried deep inside your pussy, continously hitting your soft spot. Expect his hands to always firmly grip your waist violently in a possesively controlling manner... Or, perhaps, one of his hands gropping your breast while he plays with your stimulated nipples. That feels pretty good for both of you.

: ̗̀➛ And speaking about sex from behind! During this position, I can imagine he would like fucking you right in front of a mirror, making sure to change the speed in which he penetrates you just to see the different expressions in your beauteous features. His hand would hold your chin occasionally, forcing you to stare at yourself through the mirror being fucked by him, as he whispers just how much of a good girl you are, taking his cock so well and obediently.

: ̗̀➛ One of his many favourite things to do in bed, is having you go down on him, and him going down on you. The way your hand forms a fist around his throbbing cock, gently masturbating him as your lips press delicate smooches on his leaking tip, moving your mouth all the way down to his cock with small kisses until you decide to finally take him in your mouth makes him go absolutely feral for you.

: ̗̀➛ It would take Jacaerys all the efforts that he has to not grip harshly from your hair, pulling it back, and violently face fuck you until you’re deepthroating his shaft and maybe even gagging a bit. It hurts not doing so, but he prefers to treat you like the true future Queen you are. The way in which your tongue strokes his cock leisurely while you’re going down on him with your mouth provokes him to loudly groan, and chant your name under his breath. As expected, his semen spurs all over the inside of your mouth, your tongue, and the roof of your mouth.

: ̗̀➛ Or, if he’s feeling a bit too aroused, he will quickly pull out from your mouth at the feeling of his seed being released, and come all over your precious lips, chin, neck, and chest. The sight of his own cum dripping from your chin and neck, some sticky drops falling to your tits, is enough to make him feel proud of himself. You’re all his.

: ̗̀➛ And when Jace has to go down on you? Man, he for sure knows how to take your aching pussy. His hands would be harshly gripping your hips, as his plump lips press playful kisses all over your inner thighs, moving upwards until he meets with your wet core.

: ̗̀➛ There, he would sweetly place kisses all over your moist folds, working up until he meets your glistening clit. He would then carefully rub the rim of it, and slowly work his way in to meet your throbbing core. His tongue would flick against that sensitive spot, and then he would move his mouth back towards your entrance, where he would suckle at your slit, selfishly drinking from your dripping slick while he eagerly fingerfucks you.

: ̗̀➛ It’s just as if Jace knew exactly how you like to be treated; pampering each bit of your sensible core with such fervent adoration. Jace does it like nobody else does, and you can go down on him like nobody else as well. You’re the perfect match.

: ̗̀➛ The eldest Velaryon Prince would also absolutely adore having you riding him. Especially because you tease him by telling him that you’re finally learning on how to properly ride a true dragon... And because he likes the way your tits bounce when you’re on top of him. And, of course, the sight of the bruises Jace leaves on your hips after firmly holding you down on him is also a very pleasant one.

: ̗̀➛ Jace knows how to treat you when you’re such a good girl for him, so obedient — and he will be so gentle, loving, and adoring. But when you’re a bit feisty with him, thinking that you can misbehave around him, Jace will never doubt on having you laid all across his lap, harshly spanking your ass until your flesh is red and swollen, occasionally rubbing his palm across your aching cunt teasingly.

: ̗̀➛ And when you accept your punishment, his pulsating cock would fill you up so delightfully. Pounding violently in and out of you continously, making sure his cock hits deeply against your G spot just to have you shaking, whining, and whimpering under him. Seven Hells, the way you moan his name in that ruined state is so, so pretty. And Jacaerys would cum several times inside of you, to the point you would feel comfortingly and overwhelmingly warm, until his hot semen is oozing out of your abused pussy, dripping down your inner thighs.

: ̗̀➛ I think Jace would pretty much be up to anything. Want to be tied to the bed while he fucks you and you can’t do anything about it? Sure, he will do as you please. Want to be choked? Okay! Jace will be happy to oblige. Want to be tendered softly, and fucked with love and adoration as he praises you in between kisses? Say no more. Jacaerys absolutely adores you, and that’s an understatement.

: ̗̀➛ Your sex life will be pretty much open to anything, and of course, his only focus will be in making you feel satisfied, comfortable, and loved. Jace would never do anything to get hurt you or make you uncomfy. 💗

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Ego check

Word count: 803

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: At a crowded party, you challenge Lando Norris's inflated ego by advising him on how to engage genuinely

My request are open

________________________________________________________

Just as you were about to retreat to a quieter corner, a guy slid up next to you, a cocky smirk already plastered on his face. His dark brown hair was tousled in that "I didn't try, but I totally did" way, and he carried himself with an air of entitlement that you could sense from a mile away.

"You must know who I am," he said without so much as a hello.

You blinked at him, unimpressed, and took another sip of your drink. "Should I?" you replied, your voice calm but pointed.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Lando. Lando Norris. I race in Formula 1."

You shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "That's nice."

He stared at you like you had just spoken in a foreign language. "You don’t know who I am? Lando Norris? F1 driver?" He leaned in closer as if trying to figure out if you were messing with him.

You tilted your head slightly, keeping your cool. "I heard you the first time. Just not sure why I should care."

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. His ego was massive, and you could tell he was used to people fawning over him, especially at events like this. But you weren’t interested in that kind of attitude. You liked funny, genuine people—not guys who thought their fame gave them a free pass to be arrogant.

"You know," you said, setting your drink down on the bar, "if you want people to like you, you might want to try being a little less full of yourself. The whole 'do you know who I am' thing? Not cute."

He stared at you, speechless for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. But instead of getting defensive or annoyed, something in his expression changed. It was subtle at first—his posture relaxed a little, the smirk faded, and his eyes softened as he studied you.

"Okay," he said after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What should I say, then?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in attitude. "Well, for starters, you could try saying 'Hi, I’m Lando. What’s your name?' You know, like a normal person."

He let out a short laugh, and you could tell the arrogance was melting away. "Hi," he said, still grinning but in a way that felt more real this time. "I’m Lando. What’s your name?"

You smiled back, feeling a little bit of your initial annoyance fade. "That’s better. I’m Y/n."

The conversation shifted after that. Lando dropped the cocky attitude, and instead of talking about himself, he started asking about you—your interests, what brought you to the party, and what you liked to do for fun. He cracked a few jokes, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected to.

It was almost like you had flipped a switch in him. The arrogance that had initially repelled you had given way to something softer, more genuine. He started to talk about his passion for racing in a way that wasn’t about impressing you, but about sharing something he loved.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you when you spoke, how his laugh was a little louder at your jokes, how he seemed to genuinely enjoy your company.

By the time you were getting ready to leave, Lando looked at you with an intensity that hadn’t been there before.

"You know," he said, leaning against the bar, "I think you’re the first person in a long time who hasn’t cared who I am. It’s kind of refreshing."

You smiled, grabbing your bag. "That’s because I care more about who people are, not what they do."

Lando ran a hand through his hair, looking a little flustered for the first time all night. "I think I could get used to that. Would it be too forward if I asked to see you again?"

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth in your chest as you looked at him, no longer the arrogant guy who had first approached you but someone you might actually want to get to know.

"I guess we’ll see," you said with a grin before turning to leave.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but notice Lando watching you, looking completely smitten.

[shalotttower]

A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."

[pinkslaystation]

If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

You want him, but does he want you? Part 2 :> Part 3 :< Word Count: 2.1k

Whatever you did, you always found yourself being a disappoint to your parents.

First, it was getting rejected from the university your parents intended you to go to. Then, it was working at a job that didn't utilise your degree. And now, it's complaint after complaint for being in a 'relationship' with some they didn't approve of.

"Honey, I just don't think he's the right one for you..." Your mother complained on the phone for what felt like the thousandth time this day.

You rolled your eyes exasperatingly, happy that she couldn't see your annoyance through the call.

"Ma...you haven't even met him, I don't see why it's such a big deal, I'm finally out of your hair anyways, isn't that what you wanted?" You argued.

Everyday felt like a battle for your parent's time and affection.

Living under the shadows of your siblings was a pain. Your older sister had pursued a law degree at a top university when you were just in high school, and moved abroad to practice at one of the best law firms in the US. Your younger brother, on the other hand, was in their 2nd year studying Aeronautical Engineering at the same university as the elder. You felt like the odd one out in every field.

And here you are, stuck working in retail even though you complete your Bachelors degree in Computer Science.

Whatever you did, just was not enough for your parents.

So you saved enough money from your job, took out a small loan and made the decision to pack your bags and move to the Midlands, which was just regionally higher up than where you initially resided in your family home. How funny was it that you were the last sibling to move out?

After weeks of working your ass of at your new 8-6 job...still in retail, one silent evening after taking out the trash, you found yourself coming face to face to your neighbor.

And to say to he was attractive was an understatement. He had a tall tower-like frame, height ranging anywhere from 6'2 to 6'4, his scarred face was decorated with dirty blonde, short yet soft, hair and a slight stubble. His face, though rough, looked almost model worthy and held a permanent angry face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as if it hurt to open them.

"You got a staring problem, love?" He scoffed at you, the first time your met. You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as saucepans.

"!- we- um..who..who are you?"

The blonde chuckled at you sarcastically, "Your neighbour, Riley, you won't see as often so close that bloody mouth of yours."

And he was right, out of 7 months of living at your new flat, you'd seen him only a handful of times. You often found yourself questioning his occupation, why exactly he hangs out and about the area for a week, then just suddenly just disappears, like a ghost.

You'd learnt from the other residents that he worked within the military, whether it was the marines, the air force or the army, you never knew, until one faithful morning, you found yourself nestled against his broad warm chest, both of you hungover from the block party that all of the residents had been invited to.

"Hmm...mornin'" He grunts out at you, and the slightly reddening marks running down his neck and the bruising hand prints on your waist told you enough about the previous night.

You stiffen next to him, but his rough skin grazing against your skin urges to continue to curl up beside him.

Fast-forward another 5 months, it's been nearly a year of knowing 'Riley' and nearly a year you'd seen anyone from your family. You've always wanted to know how long they would be able to go on without you...and you'd finally got your answer.

You've learnt a lot of things about 'Riley'. For starters, his full name was Simon, though everyone in the building referred to him by his last name (you'd pestered him too much, and he finally caved in and allowed you to call him by his first name). He was almost 10 years elder to you and his striking face was usually masked with a black balaclava or those disposable ones.

"Ma, I'm happy, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Sweetheart, why don't you come home for the weekend and we can finally meet this man. I mean since you're exclusive and everything."

"We...we're not that level yet-"

"Your older sister's getting married and she's only 4 years older than you.-"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's she got to do with this?"

"Honey, listen, me and your father are happy you're with someone. I mean this is the first time someone actually liked you right?"

Ouch.

"It wouldn't hurt to meet the old fella, no?"

Ah, one important part I forgot to mention.

You weren't dating Simon.

In fact, you guys never really established a relationship between the two of you. When he was home from deployment, your evening usually consisted of lazing about after work, wine in hand, Simon walking in, a few words exchanged here and there about his work-

Oh, and the night ending with a good rough fucking.

The morning would come by and you'd walk into your shift, your hickey-adorned chest and neck covered with a black turtleneck although it was the middle of August (and against the uniform policy).

So one night you decided to break away from his dominating kiss, and sit him down for a heartfelt conversation-

"Why'd you want to complicate things," he sneers, "we're just fuck buddies yeah?"

"Excuse me? So, what those 5 months didn't mean shit to you?" You scoffed, rather offended that he looked down at you, just like your family.

"You're old enough to be my kid, what make you think this was gonna go anywhere?" He stands up, lighting a smoke, knowing you hated the stench of his cigarettes in your room. It was always your room, always your flat. You can't remember the last time you even went to Simon's place, if there ever was a time.

"Who has a kid at 10? And why'd you keep fucking me? And I'm 24 fucking years old, Jesus, why does that not go through anyone's thick ass skull?!"

"Calm down love, thought this arrangement was mutual, I've got pent up frustration from the military, you're pent up 'cos no one else wants you-"

"Those nights didn't mean anything to you?"

"You don't mean anything to me." He asserts furiously. You studied him, the glimpse of that comforting man who stroked your back and kissed your forehead post-sex really wasn't there.

The fuck does this guy think he is?

"Get out."

"Done."

And he gets up and leaves, blowing a puff of smoke as if to scent the room. Just like that. Wow, was there anyone in your life that actually cared about you?

All those Wattpad stories taught you that the guy usually fights for his lover, screaming back saying that he won't leave without a fight, arguing that that the pair deserved each other. And yet, here you are, sobbing in the shower, unable to differentiate whether your body is getting soaked from the water or from the river of salty tears streaming down your dull, lifeless face, all because the guy you wanted never truly wanted you back.

You felt used, mainly your body. Rubbing yourself full of soap just caused your mind to flash back to his thick calloused hands massaging every inch of skin.

When you occasionally saw him at the building get together, which you wonder why he even attends considering he just hates and complains about everyone (everyone but you of course), you'd find yourself glued on the spot, lips quivering, tears threatening to spill again- and the throbbing. Man, the throbbing you felt between your legs. If it wasn't for his dick, you'd really be wondering why you craved him so bad, because it's definitely not his nasty personality.

And every time you open your mouth to say something to him, to call him over, to greet him, hell you should be cursing him out in front of everyone, he just stormed out with his head down with what looks like a combination of embarrassment or grief.

Until one night, you get a phone call from your older sister, the unsaved number appearing unfamiliar to you. Your hesitant to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," She drags out her words, as if to waste time. You can tell your mother meddled in between, "So, I'm having the engagement party by the end of this month, and um...you free to come? No worries if you can't."

You pause, did she even want you there?

"Sure."

"Cool. Um, Mum says you're seeing someone, you can bring 'em if you want."

"Sure."

"Yeah, dunno if it's serious enough but there's enough space in the venue."

"Sure."

There's a pause on the other line.

"Hey can you say anything other than 'sUrE'?" She mocks you. Your eyebrow twitches in amusement.

"Did you just call to brag about you and your fancy ass engagement party? And the audacity to not send an invite, if you don't want me there, just say it. I'm not a baby anymore." You frustratingly answer.

Your sister remains quiet on the other line and you can tell you struck a nerve.

"I- listen I know we never get along but can you please come? Ma keeps mentioning you, surprisingly, and- and we haven't seen you in months, you don't even reply to the memes on the family group chat..."

You blink. "We have a family group chat?"

The rest of the month was empty, and although you were thankful for no more surprising run-ins with Simon, you missed having a warm body next to you. You learnt from one of the residents that he's been deployed for 3 weeks, this particular one shorter than others.

He confused you, Simon. He hated the idea of being in a relationship with you, yet he did 'relationship things' with you. He disliked when people assumed you two were a couple in public, but he always had his arm around you protectively. Not even education was this stressful.

And as much as you wanted to sit and let the misery marinate into your mind, you knew the date of the engagement party was nearing and you knew you couldn't come empty-handed.

By the end of the 3rd week, you knew Simon had come home, recognising the sound of the heavy footsteps entering his flat next door at 3 in the morning, you being awake from all the stress your high-maintenance sister had thrown suddenly at you. But you couldn't help but notice the sound of a softer treads following his. Maybe he got a pet?

That night, you had trouble sleeping, unsure whether it was the stress of trying to impress your family or the light sound of the headboards of next door creaking. That sound was familiar, reminding you when he was over at your place, rocking gently inside of you, though you question why he's not with you this moment. Usually you'd find him at the other side of the door, tired eyes resembling those of a stray puppy looking for a place to stay.

You close your eyes, your mind racing to the thought of the burly man on the other side of the wall rubbing himself to the thought of you. You sink into the bed, disregarding that unignorable pulsating feeling.

Saturday morning come, and you stretched contently, knowing that you finally had the day off from work. But that short-lived happiness dimmed when you checked the unread notification blasting through your phone.

7:29 A.M. #####:- hey listen i meant it when i said i wanted you there. pls come. #####:- it wouldnt just make ma happy but me too #####:- u gotta be there to make look better haha im joking

You had a feeling that she was not.

7:56 A.M. #####:-and uh, bring your guy as well pls, ma's so excited planning this wedding she wants to get started on the next one too lolol #####:- also she thinks your lying :/

Great, now there's actual pressure to bring someone.

Your morning dose of caffeine didn't hit today, as your body feels heavier than usual as you trudge all the way to your doorstep. When the last time you actually left your apartment if not for work?

Forcing yourself to look decently good, you make your way to your neighbour's doorstep, knocking so softly you almost tried again, until the door abruptly open, revealing a wet toweled Simon.

An eerie silence captures the atmosphere, consists of his eyes drinking in your disheveled appearance after almost a month, and yours undressing him, as if he wasn't already standing almost-nude.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, "Listen I know you've been deployed for the past 3 weeks, but listen I need a favour, I know you hate me and don't want to be with me but I really need a date to an engagement party, and I hate men and men hate me so I don't know anyone but you, and here me out, but could you please take some time out of your month to please be my date, I know you don't like me like that, which makes no sense to me 'cos you're in that mask almost the same number of times as you're in me- just please give it a thought-"

There's a cough behind Simon.

A half nude woman runs past you, head down in shame, smilingly guiltily as she tiptoes out of his room. She heard it all, you thought.

You look at Simon, suddenly recollected last night's events, the 2nd footsteps, the headboard banging. It all made sense. You really didn't mean anything to him.

Simon shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

"Surprise?"

its's 2 a.m. as i post this...why do my brain cells suddenly begin to work post-midnight I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[lua-magic]

Intresting Astrology facts.

If your ancendent has Rahu, ketu, or even Saturn your present life will revolve around your past life, you will meet many past life relationships.

If your Jupiter is with Rahu, ketu or Saturn,or your ninth house has rahu, ketu or Saturn it also shows born to finish your pending karma of past life.

Mercury in water sign( 4,8and 12) natives are extremely creative.

Mercury in Earth sign (2,6 and 10) have logical approach.

Mercury in second house also shows that in your childhood, lot of preference to studies and reading were given.

Mercury in air sign, 3,7 and 11 are natives who could speak to anyone anytime.

Mercury in fire sign( 1,5,9) are self starters and can take lot of initiative.

Second house also shows your child hood upbringing and values that you were given in childhood.

Saturn in second house or in twelfth, and fifth house shows alot of importance were given to work.

Jupiter in second house is good, as it shows moral values were given to native.

If Jupiter is present in eighth, sixth and tenth house as well it shows good upbringing.

If Mars is present in second house, six house and seventh house it house, native in early childhood either seen lot of domestic fight, or was involved in some kind of sports or frequent fights.

Second house is also of wealth 🤑

If Rahu is present in second house, then native will receive sudden wealth and love to show-off to others.

Rahu in second house also shows lot of childhood traumas.

If ketu is in second house then native will receive wealth slowly but will not show to others.

Ketu in second house shows your detachment from family.

If your Jupiter has Mars or jupiter in ancendent then you will always feel divine presence in your life, especially no enemy can harm you.

If Jupiter is in sixth and tenth house, Jupiter blessings will come especially when someone try to defame you, or put wrong allegations in you or criticizes you.

Moon Venus in close conjunction or in trine, native has to face lot of blames in his life

If Rahu goes in twelfth house, then in this life you have pay lot for your karmic debt of your ancestors, but you will be liberated from your ancestral debts.

If your second lord is with melefics like Mars, Rahu and ketu, Saturn , sun or even Debilitated then it shows problematic and difficult childhood, only if Jupiter is not in second house or aspecting second house or second lord.

If you have Saturn retro or Jupiter retro it shows you are getting results of immediate past life karmas in this life or you are here to finish your immediate past life karmas.

Sun Rahu combination natives should avoid eating, "refined wheat flour" as wheat flour is sun but when you refine it, it becomes rahu, if you eat it, you will damage your sun.

Mars , Rahu and Saturn in second house native should avoid spicy food, (if possible avoid non veg) as you will damage your second house, second house is also your eating habits..

[papercutslut]

Coping tonight so have some pokemon au sketches, because I fucking adore pokemon.

thoughts under the cut:

Ford in this universe is a professor who studies anomalous Pokemon. He manages to catch a Slither Wing, initially to study it, but he ends up fucking Adoring the thing. He names it Lanugo (which is latin for fluff) (also do you know Slither Wing is 10 feet tall??? Big boy)

He also has a Reuniclus as his partner pokemon. He won it in a county science fair when he was 13.

Fiddleford is the type to keep a Pokemon as a pet. He only has a Magnemite, which he adopted early in college. It helps him move around weightier parts.

Magnemite ends up staying with Fiddleford even as he starts deteriorating. It helps Fidds by reminding him stuff like when to eat.

other thoughts not drawn here:

Stanley manages to keep his scraggly Meowth from his childhood, throughout the years. He taught her to pickpocket tourists. She curls up on his lap when he's watching tv.

Dipper and Mabel end up finding their starters when they go to visit grunkle Stan. Dipper ends up with Snivy, Mabel with a Tepig.

Bill is still in this AU and still causes problems.

[amourane]

HIHI I WAS READING ONE OF YOUR FICS WHEN I CAME ACROSS YOUR BLOG AND WOW YOU WRITE SUPER GOOD. And I wanted to send in a request if that’s cool with you! here I go!

Could I request Sirius Black with a Male! (or GN! I prefer a male reader if that’s fine!) S/O who’s very tall and is really popular around the school? bonus if they dress in alternative and emo/scene clothing ? maybe for starters, the reader likes sirius a lot and they buy him drinks, snacks, etc bc they don’t rlly know how to tell him that they like him? and then confesses randomly during one of their little hang out sessions ??

I understand if you can’t do this or anything, feel free to decline this if you’d like! thank you so much and have a good day/or night.

and what if i do?

pairing: sirius black x gn!reader

genre: fluff!

w/c: 1k

summary: you and sirius black were enamoured by one another and everyone was just waiting for you to admit it.

warnings: none!

a/n: thank you so so much for the request! i tried to write it the best as i could, i hope you enjoy <3

There were many things that piqued Sirius Black’s interest but you were the most important. He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to you. Maybe it was the way your hair fell in your eyes or the way your laugh seemed to echo off every wall in the room or maybe it was the way whenever you looked at him he felt his cheeks flush a subtle pink. Whatever it was it drew him towards you as if he was a moth to a flame.

Sirius Black didn’t get crushes often but when he did fall he fell hard and that’s exactly what happened. He had approached you with the notion of copying some of your notes for Charms at first but when he saw the way your lips curved into that dreamy smile he forgot what he was going to say. 

There weren’t many times he went speechless yet whenever he was confronted with you nothing but a spew of incoherent mumbles would slip out of his mouth before he would disappear from embarrassment. His friends had teased him relentlessly at his newfound crush, mocking the way he would turn into a blithering idiot in front of you.

Unbeknownst to Sirius you had just a big of a crush. Every time he approached you you couldn’t help the grin that would tug at your lips. You had fancied him for a while and it made butterflies shoot in your stomach whenever his cheeks would dust in that pretty pink shade. 

You wouldn’t consider yourself popular by any means yet the majority of Hogwarts begged to differ. You never knew why so many people liked you but you guessed you drew attention to yourself in the best way possible. Your friends had tried to get you to understand the influence you had but you often found yourself zoning out to think about a certain boy instead.

It wasn’t long before Sirius finally mustered up the courage to talk to you without stumbling over his words. You simply watched the curly headed boy nervously try and initiate a conversation, a smile playing at your lips. It was out of character for the Sirius Black to act this way but you enjoyed it.

From then on a friendship blossomed. The two of you bonded over late night conversations and shared interests. The attraction between the two of you only grew stronger and everyone in Hogwarts knew about the mutual feelings you both had for each other, everyone but you and Sirius it seemed. 

It was in the late hours in the evening that you bumped into Sirius Black alone. You had been aimlessly walking back to your dorm after a study session in the library when you turned the corner to meet the face of the Gryffindor. 

“Hey Y/n, mind if I join you?” Sirius greeted you with a smile and the familiar expression made your heart flutter.

You couldn't help but return the smile, the corners of your mouth curling upwards. "Not at all. What brings you wandering the halls at this hour?"

He shrugged casually, falling into step beside you. "Just needed a break from the chaos. James was plotting another disastrous way to get Evans’ attention and I really couldn’t take anymore of his ranting. Plus, I figured I might bump into you." He threw you a flirty wink and you felt your own face heat up.

In the few weeks that you had known each other Sirius Black had definitely warmed up to you. Gone was the nervous nature, now replaced with a more flirty, more playful Sirius Black. Not that you minded of course. 

“Well it’s good that you did. I’ve been meaning to give you something.” You produced a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from the depths of your pocket, holding it out to him with a sheepish grin. "I noticed you like these, so I thought I'd grab you some.”

Sirius accepted your gift with a chuckle. “Merlin Y/n, with all these gifts you’re going to make me think you fancy me or something.”

You didn’t think it was possible to get any hotter. 

It was true. You had been showering Sirius with gifts, from chocolate frogs to bottles of firewhisky. It seemed as though your pockets were endless as you gave him a new present every day with a grin on your face. His reactions were your favourite. The bright smile and twinkling eyes. You loved the way he would look at you and it simply made your heart pound.

It started out when you had planned to ask him out with a bag of fizzing whizzbees in your hand but you chickened out last minute and simply shoved the sweets in his hand before darting away. Ever since then you had bought gifts in hopes that you would eventually tell him how you felt.

“What if I do?” 

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to even think about what you said. Sirius stilled. It was too late to take the words back now so you might as well go through with it. 

“What if I do fancy you? Would that be a bad thing?”

Sirius’ eyes widened and you saw the way his expression was momentarily caught between shock and disbelief. You held your breath hoping that the pounding of your heart didn’t give you away.

But then, to your relief, a slow grin spread across Sirius' face, his eyes alight with amusement and something else, something deeper and more profound.

"Well, in that case," He said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of mischief, "I suppose I'd have to say I fancy you too."

The world stopped. Your heart leaped in your chest, a surge of euphoria coursing through your veins. A feeling you couldn’t describe consumed you and you felt as though you were dreaming.

“You do?” You croaked out in disbelief still not fully registering what he just said. 

“Of course I do.” Sirius grinned and now you could see the blush that had made its way onto his face. “Godric, how could I not Y/n? You’re smart and funny and just…just really fucking incredible.”

His words allowed warmth to flood into your body and you beamed at him. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you as your lips met in a sweet and tender kiss. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew that you wanted to stay with Sirius Black forever.

[bruhstation]

it’s been a hot while! I’m busy with uni and maintaining my grades, med school studies, and life in general, but in the midst of it all…..

BRUHSTATION HAS REACHED 1000+ FOLLOWERS!!! WOAH!!!!!!!!!

WHAT‼️

truth to be told, this blog reached exactly 1000 followers back in early december 2023. I was planning on making a one shot comic, but ran out of time and energy and my follower count kept going up and up! so I decided to come forward about it now.

thank you all for your support for the one and a half year bruhstation has been operating! it’s still a bit shocking to me how much people take interest in this unofficial spinoff of mine through your asks, submissions, reblogs, and comments and how so many of you has made fan content like fanart, fanfic, and playlists while casa tidmouth develops. I can’t thank you all enough for your love and interest, and despite me getting busier everyday, you all still stuck around. I cannot express my gratitude enough for you all.

I’ve met a lot of amazing people in this community who kept supporting me and my friends even before I joined the ttteblr community also shared many joys as well! what I initially thought to be a quaint blog that’s not gonna last long has now garnered so much support and love!!! it’s been really fun!!!!

one thousand and forty people!!! that’s insane!!!! also reaching 1k followers in one and half a year….. heh…. (rubs the back of my head)

but here’s the thing! this little drawing of the 156 trio isn’t just what I have in mind! think of it as a starter for this 1k followers celebration because I want to give the followers of bruhstation something special.

so here’s my plan! I’m planning on holding a casa tidmouth popularity poll in commemoration of this four digit milestone.

the poll will be held through google form. it’s more of a questionaire if anything — the questions will be divided into categories like which character you like design wise, personality wise, etc… and you can vote for the character(s) present! not only characters — you can also vote for stuff related to the story (related to the questions given, of course!) there’ll also be other questions related to the blog itself (outside of the cstm universe) as well. yannow, blog improvisation and stuff. I won’t spoil much of my idea here, but I just want to see the public’s reception.

but before I go through with my plan, I’m holding an interest check to see how many people are interested in this popularity poll idea! so —

once again, thank you for your support, and I await your response!

[mxchineherald]

[@runes-menagerie]

His heart was so heavy that his chest ached with emotion as he made his way back toward the lab. The crutch under his arm supported only so much, and carried none of the new weight added to his shoulders by her death. Her face, looking up at him in shocked and confused fear, lingered like a sunspot in his thoughts -- a permanently burnt darkness in his sights, no matter where he cast his gaze. Looking at it too long left a void in his chest that nothing could fill.

Beyond the mental pain, a physical agony seeped into his body. Freshly cut wounds roared out in fury at the fabric brushing over them. Newly acquired limbs ached with fresh and searing discomfort, like pins and needles shooting into the bone. It was enough to make his mind wash blank with excruciating overstimulation.

And he deserved to feel it. Every ounce of pain was just.

He had recklessly and stupidly charged into an experiment, and it had come to him at the cost of her life. Looking down at his gloved hand as he walked, he felt a hollow anger building in his throat. A scream he could never release. Tears threatened his scowling eyes again, and he forced his eyes off of himself to look ahead. He adjusted the journal tucked under his arm to keep it close to him while approaching the doors to the lab.

Going back probably wasn't a good idea. It would only open wounds that had just barely gotten a chance to heal. Truly, it was only with the reassurance that Jayce would be destroying it soon that he could ever lay his eyes on the Hexcore again. Just one last look, to say goodbye to the creation that had stolen so much from him. He unlocked the doors, stepping into the otherwise silent and undisturbed room.

The last time he was in here, she had died. He had spent so much time...cleaning her up. It made him sick to recall brushing her ashes into that canister. Some of her had been permanently lost in the grates of the room, cursed to forever linger within the walls of the Academy. He felt immense guilt clutch at his stomach, ready to make him heave whatever he'd managed to keep down until now. The doors closed behind him, sealing him in with the results of his selfish actions. Alone with the Hexcore.

He stared daggers into it, hoping that somehow it could feel how angry he was with it. He hoped it could understand all it had done -- all it had cost him. And yet...

He was not met with what he expected.

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

My problem with Sallie May—a discussion of representation:

There’s been some discourse around Sallie May lately that’s gotten me thinking more about her. Not really as a character, but what her purpose is in the narrative and how she’s treated by the fandom and the show’s creators.

Sallie May is an interesting case study in representation without depth, and I wanted to talk a little more about what that means.

OPINION DISCLAIMER—I’m gonna be talking about how I personally view lgbtq+ and queer representation and what I consider to be well-rounded representation vs. empty or shallow representation.

Also. I am only one member of the queer community—I don’t speak for all lgbtq+ people, and I am DEFINITELY NOT trying to talk over other’s experiences. My opinions are my own, and if you agree with me, cool! And if you don’t agree with me, that’s great too!!

Also also. I don’t think I should have to say this but, this is NOT a personal attack on ANYONE involved w/i the production and creation of Helluva Boss. This is my own analysis, b/c I like to talk about media and the ways we interact with and interpret it.

So, with all of that out of the way, if you’re interested in my analysis, let’s talk about Sallie May!! (TLDR @ end of post)

First do want to make it clear that my issue is not actually with her like…existing. Or with her general characterization. Mostly because, even with Hell’s Belles, she still doesn’t really have a very strong characterization to begin with, and isn’t a fully-fleshed out character.

In her initial appearance she was a bit-character, bordering on just being a straight up background character. She had three lines in her debut (and to date, ONLY) appearance in the show proper.

Until Hell’s Belles we knew next to nothing about her other than that she likes violence and also that she has a neighborhood body count? Which. I don’t know if they were trying to imply that she’s a serial killer, I doubt that was the intent. Or maybe they were. I can’t know.

Regardless, I honestly believe they didn’t really think the implications of that writing decision through at all. There’s a very real and very harmful “trans serial killer/murderer” trope in media, and while the impact is definitely lessened by the vast majority of HB characters being violent murderers—it still feels weird having the only trans character we’ve seen at this point be literally INTRODUCED to the audience by the fact that she’s a murderer, and to then be given NO further information on her.

Luckily, we DID get more information about Sallie, even if it was still very little and surface level. In Hell’s Belles we learn that Sallie May and Millie used to be a lot closer, and that Sallie May felt left behind when Millie moved to the big city.

In the short, Sallie May expresses her frustration with having to pick up the slack around their family’s ranch, and that she’s been lonely without Millie there. Millie and Sally have a little heart to heart and are able to make up, and the short ends.

This is a nice little piece of backstory, and does give us slightly more insight into Sallie May and what her life is like, but because the episode is a short, we still really don’t get to know her as a person.

Like Millie, Sallie May doesn’t have any real depth. We only know starter information about her, like that she cares about her family, and that she’s violent.

But unlike Millie, Sallie May is a minor character. She has (at the time of my writing this) appeared in ONE episode of the actual show, and one short. She is a minor character, and the ONLY transgender character in the show with a name and lines.

So. Okay. Why does literally any of that matter??? Who cares if Sallie May is an under-developed minor background character??

Well, in my opinion, it matters because the show-runners frame and treat Sallie May as if she is a main character, without actually writing her—or any trans character for that matter—as a main character.

This really rubs me the wrong way, because it comes across as tokenism.

In my opinion since she was introduced, Sallie May has become a token transgender character—an excuse for the HB writers to not write or develop more transgender, nonbinary, and gender diverse characters and stories, because they already have one.

I worry that, if anyone rightfully points out that HB is severely lacking in gender-diverse characters and storylines, the creators and fandom will point to Sallie May as “proof” that they do have representation.

If HB is as radically queer and LGBTQ+ friendly as it claims to be, why do we only have ONE named trans character in the show’s 5 years of existence?

Due to all of the above, I find I can’t agree with people who praise the show for its representation, because of how stunted it is. I just don’t think I, or anyone, should have to read sources outside of the narrative to learn important parts of a character’s identity.

I feel this very deeply as a lesbian and nonbinary person—I understand that most of the women characters in Helluva Boss are sapphic, but I ONLY know that because of the HB Pride Print that came out just this year. I have not actually gotten to SEE any of these character’s sexualities fully represented, and it’s because of this that I struggle to see myself represented in HB in any way.

I do need to clarify that what I am NOT SAYING is that no one can feel represented by Sallie May, or that if they do, they’ve been tricked somehow by writers into thinking they got more representation than they actually did.

Sallie May is a very popular character, and because of that I honestly would like to see more of her. I want to see more of her because she’s the only trans character on the show, and I want her to be properly developed.

I talked previously about how I enjoyed Hell’s Belles, but wished we had gotten to see more of Sallie and Millie’s relationship in the actual show. Their relationship has a lot of potential to show the unique ways in which siblings interact and navigate conflict, but we only got to see a few seconds of them interacting in Sallie’s debut. The short gives us an idea of what Sallie’s personality is like, but it’s so brief that I still don’t feel like we really KNOW her on a deeper level.

To me, three lines + one short with a brief backstory doesn’t feel like the sort of amazing representation that fans of the show laud Helluva Boss for.

As a series that often boasts about its queer and trans rep and inclusivity, I can’t help but feel like Sallie May should either have been a main character from the very beginning, or that she shouldn’t have been trotted out like some sort of bastion of trans representation, when the only indication she is trans is her horns/white roots.

And yes. As a genderqueer gay I KNOW that it can be extremely tiring to have all of our stories revolve around our struggles and ONLY be about being LGBTQ+. I also want to see a variety of stories about queer people like me going on adventures and getting to do things that don’t revolve around our struggles. But I also want to still actually see myself represented.

Not just know outside the story that, “oh that character is nonbinary, but it will not be mentioned in the narrative in any way and will not ever be important in the context of this character I’m supposed to see myself in.”

Madeline Maye talked about this specifically in her critique of Helluva Boss, and her pointing this out was kind of what made me realize that, yeah. Anyone watching Helluva Boss for the first time would probably have NO IDEA that Sallie Mae is a transgender woman.

It also made me realize that the only reason I knew that Sallie May was trans was because her VA, Morgana Ignis, who is also a trans woman, tweeted about it, and the official Helluva Boss Twitter retweeted it.

The original tweet is hidden now (Ignis has since left Twitter—idk why, I genuinely hope it wasn’t due to harassment—that’s never okay) but I was able to confirm that this was the case based on the HB wiki, and the official HB’s retweet still being up:

The only confirmation we’ve ever had that Sallie May is transgender has been outside of the show—either from social media Q&As and the show’s wiki or merch—

Sallie May has a LOT of merch. Like a lot, this isn’t even all of it. And yes, SOME of the merch is from the recently released “Hell’s Belles” short, but the vast majority of it is from the 3 years since her initial introduction.

The vast majority of it is also highly sexualized, and highlights Sallie’s penis through her swimsuit. Now, I’m aware that Morgana Ignis requested this, and I honestly don’t have too much of an opinion on it. I’m not a trans woman, and I’ve seen multiple opinions from trans women on this design choice for Sally’s merch. I’ve seen some trans women say that they liked and felt represented by this choice, and some say that they felt objectified and that it made them dysphoric. This is one of those situations where I don’t think everyone can be pleased—like I said at the beginning of this post, LGBTQ+ people are as diverse in their opinions as we are in our identities and self-expression, and I think everyone’s feelings regarding Sallie’s portrayals in the merch are valid.

I bring it up because, other than the wiki explaining that Sallie May has “male horns”, this is the only other way to confirm that Sally is trans, as it is never acknowledged in the story. I bring it up because I don’t think merch should be the only way an LGBTQ character’s identity is validated.

I assume that all of Sallie Mae’s merch is because of her popularity, but I also can’t help but wonder if this has contributed to the impression that Sallie is a main character, when, in the narrative so far, she is still a minor one.

I don’t believe that when she was originally created to be a “token trans” character, but since her introduction, there have not been any main characters that are transgender, nonbinary, or genderqueer.

We’ve only had one other trans character with a speaking role—this imp:

Who is FTM. He seems to know Blitz from a while back, and talks Blitz into staying at the party. Then he watches him drunkenly make out with random people with another (I assume) trans imp who is probably MTF:

(Also—as an aside, this scene kinda bothers me?? I don’t THINK this was the intention at all, but having a VERY CLEARLY drunk off of his ass Blitz, who can’t meaningfully consent at this time, being watched, and almost like…leered at by two of the only visibly trans characters in the show…it feels gross. Like why are two of the only other confirmed trans characters voyeuristically watching a drunk man who can’t consent making out? It would be one thing if we had a story full of different trans characters who acted in all sorts of different ways, but at this time these two are 2/3rds of the show’s ENTIRE trans rep. With the other 1/3rd being introduced to us as a serial killer. Like. Guys. What is it that you’re trying to say?)

Apparently Sallie May’s VA has stated the below on Social Media, and stated that there’s a lot more coming for Sallie May in the future. And that’s great!!! I really really want to believe that.

But I look at the above and can’t help but wonder…if this is the case, why did it take three years for her to get another appearance? In just a short? Why wasn’t she given more focus and importance from the very beginning, in her introductory episode? If her original appearance wasn’t representative of her and Millie’s relationship then why did they even write it that way???

I want to believe all of the above—that Sallie May actually WILL get to become a main character. But I look at the way she’s been barely portrayed, and the way that she’s basically been used to just sell merch, and it makes me sad.

I would love to see more of her, more of any trans characters that aren’t 2 second background characters, but I honestly have a hard time believing we ever will when the episodes take as long as the do to come out, and the when the episodes focus so heavily on shipping pre-existing pairings.

As a lesbian, I would love to see Sallie May get a girlfriend, but given Spindlehorse’s track record with lackluster sapphic pairings and representation, I don’t have much hope of seeing that either.

I just. If you managed to get all the way through this heinously long post, thank you for reading. If you didn’t, that’s very fair (lol) and I’ve got the tldr for you here—

TLDR:

—My issue with Sallie May is not actually with Sallie May at all. It’s with the fact that we don’t get enough of Sallie May, or any trans characters, for that matter.

—You can, of course, feel represented by any character, but I think it’s important to ask yourself how you are being represented, and if you are actually being represented.

—Not every queer/trans/lgbt story has to explicitly be about being queer. The stories in which we are represented should be as diverse and vibrant as all the members of our community. But, I still want to actually be able to tell and to see that the characters are lgbtq+. If a character is a lesbian or sapphic, I want to see her show an interest in other women. If a character is transgender I want to see that acknowledged by the narrative, whether it’s the character mentioning their transition or just saying they’re trans. I want to SEE myself and other queer identities. Not just know that they’re there.

[aboutcustardcreams]

Help me hold onto you

Summary: The Doctor takes you and Yaz to Nectoxia, a peculiar planet that serves as burial ground, with the purpose of giving you a harmless fright. However, things don’t go as planned. They never do. And this time, it could cost you dearly.

part two

part three

part four

When the Doctor mentioned she was going to take you somewhere that would give you the creeps, your mind hardly imagined something quite like this. You couldn’t help the shivers running through your spine, the air was humid and heavy that stuck to the skin, underneath your clothes. A thick fog clung to the ground, making it difficult for you to see where you were going. 

“Where are we?”

She turned to face you, a wide grin plastered on her lips, as if she had been expecting that, “Thought you never asked. This is Nectoxia, a planet that serves as a vast, endless, graveyard. There’s literally nothing else. No living forms– well, except for us. Eerily quiet. Dark. A tad creepy. It is creepy, isn’t it?” 

You couldn’t help the little grin that played out on your face, as she studied you with childlike curiosity. She indeed looked like one sometimes, a child, a bundle of energy you couldn’t help but feel drawn to. Her purpose was that of giving you a little fright, that’s why you landed there. She had been trying so hard and for days, to sneak up on you on the TARDIS, but unsuccessfully. So she thought of a change of scenery, nothing harmless per se, and who were you to deny her the opportunity to… fail again? You developed some sort of sixth sense when it came to the Doctor, meaning that you could always feel her presence. 

“It’s certainly a nice start, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, with a nod of your head. “Not scared yet, though.”  

She rubbed her hands together, “Right. Yet,” she echoed, “I can go with ‘yet’. Still plenty of time to scare you. Watch yourself,” she grinned, a playful glimmer lit up in her eyes.  

You let out a soft giggle and the Doctor felt a wave of warmth right in that moment, as she savored the sound of your voice, so genuine and melodious. 

On the other hand, Yaz was a bit unsure about all this. Unlike you, she did get scared, and quite easily. The Doctor never failed to tease her about it. Sometimes the two of you would team up against her, coming out of nowhere, crying out loud a ‘Booo!’, that funnily enough worked every single time. Yaz would squeal, bounce up and then drop miserably on her knees, struggling to catch her breath for a bunch of seconds. She would throw daggers at the two of you for that, flap at your arms, yet her smile would betray her not much after that, because despite the initial annoyance, Yaz enjoyed those moments. Deep down. Very deep down. At first she had been thrilled to have you back, considering how hard it was to scare you, but that place didn’t feel right. That thick fog for starters was making her feel uneasy. 

She picked up her pace, when noticing she was falling behind. You turned towards her, watching her carefully, as she catched up by your side, lightly brushing your arm, “Hey,” you muttered, playfully flapping at her, “Are you all right?” 

Your friend scrunched up her nose, “I guess. Nothing’s tried to kill me yet.”

You gave her an apologetic smile, then draped an arm across her shoulders to pull her closer. “There’s nobody here, except for us. The Doc said that, didn’t she?”

She scoffed, but leaned in your touch, “How many times does she say something like that that ultimately turns out to be untrue?” 

She indeed had a point. “Too many to count,” you chuckled softly, the sound of your voice catching the attention of the Doctor. She turned and frowned in her unique, adorable way,  before asking if everything was alright with you two. You gave a quick nod of your head, whereas Yaz flashed a thumb up, despite her lips pressed into a thin, forced smile. 

“Why don’t you pretend to be scared, so we can leave?” She leaned against you, hope in her tone. You swept your tongue over your lips, as you listened, quite amused, “I’ll give you ten bucks, no wait, twenty,” her tone so serious you hardly could hold back a laugh. 

“Yasmin Khan!” The Doctor spun around, a crease between her brows. “Are you seriously bribing her right now? You’re supposed to be a police officer!”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Former police officer,” she pointed out, considering she stopped showing up at work for ages now, meaning that she wasn’t sure she still had the job. 

You giggled softly,  and reached up to her to place a hand on her forearm, “Relax you, I’m not yielding to such frilly temptations. The temptation to watch you fail again has no price,” your eyes gleamed with mischievousness. 

“We will see about that, stardust,” she kept your gaze, a grin stretching from ear to ear. Her demeanor showed you she was so sure to succeed this time, you almost believed she would. But only for a brief second. It was the Doctor you were talking about. “Ten points for you, by the way, for your impeccable integrity. Yaz, you’re falling behind.” 

She frowned, “I almost don’t want to ask but… fall behind what?” 

The Doctor continued on walking, closer to the two of you, the hems of her sweeping coat disappearing into the thick fog at your feet. “I’m keeping a mental ranking of the points you’ve collected.” 

Yaz could hardly stifle an annoyed groan. “You give her random points all the time! How can I top that?”

The Doctor feigned a look of horror, “I do not! I’m impartial!”, she met your gaze then, as to be met with your support, “Am I?” 

You hesitated and rubbed the back of your head. “Well– most of the time.” 

It wasn’t a secret you and the Doctor had a peculiar bond. A unique relationship, you’d describe it. She was your friend, your best friend, and probably even  more than that. In your heart, she was the Universe, in every sense of the word. 

Yaz crossed her arms over her chest, and the Doctor dismissed the topic with a light flip of her hand. “Come on now– we should carry on. There’s loads to see.”

“You mean loads of vaults and tombstones?” echoed Yaz, with a grimace. 

“I know you’re scared, but don’t make it so obvious,” you teased, still grinning. The former police officer shot you an indignant look, before playfully shoving you, making you stumble a couple of feet away from her. “Oi! Rude!” 

It was her turn to grin. 

The Doctor scolded lightly, “you two remember our number one rule, alright?  Stay close to each other and don’t wander off.” 

“I thought you said it wasn’t dangerous,” came from a very alarmed Yaz. 

“And I still think that,” she repeated. “But I doubt you’d enjoy getting lost in a cemetery as wide as this.”

You chuckled when Yaz swallowed thickly in response, “I’m not fond of the idea, no.” 

“Come on, little chickens,” you teased playfully, sprunting forward just enough to pass both Yaz and the Doctor. 

The Time Lady slightly shook her head at your antics. It was going to be harder than she initially predicted to have you admit you were even remotely spooked. Even so often you’d glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting her hazel ones, and you’d smile. Every time you did that, the Time Lady couldn’t help but feel her stomach twist and turn funnily. It was ridiculous, the intensity of it. Of this… pull she felt towards you. She thought to tell you more than once, take your hand and confess all the crazy things she felt for you. 

And maybe someday, she’d have. 

As you three continued walking through the tombs, you brushed off some dust and dirt covering the inscriptions here and there. Why was there no flower to embellish the gravestones? Not even dried ones, to let you believe someone had been there before you. 

“All these people and nobody honoring their memory,” you mumbled, feeling sorry for them. “How did they even end up here?” 

The Doctor was pulled from her thoughts. She blinked, “there’s a Soulspire somewhere around here. It’s a gateway that links Nectoxia to Vitareon, a planet full of life, totally opposite to this one.” 

“So people spend their lives on Vitareon and when they die, they move here through some sort of portal?”, asked Yaz. 

“It sums it up, yeah.”

You still weren’t convinced. “It doesn’t explain why there’s nobody alive to visit their loved ones. It seems nobody has set foot in here for years. Is it supposed to be this way?”

“Hmm, now that you point it out, no, not really. There must be something impeding those from Vitareon to pass through,” she reasoned, frowning slightly, as she always does when there’s a new mystery that needs to be solved. “Maybe the portal needs maintenance. I’m good at maintenance, me. Once I built a sonic screwdriver out of a bunch of dry leaves, an old phone charger, chicken poop and a biscuit.” 

“A biscuit?”

“Chicken poop?” 

Both you and Yaz questioned at the same time. 

“Double yes,” the Doctor nodded, with a cheeky grin. “Why so surprised? It’s no secret I love biscuits,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “Needed some sugar while working. And as for the chicken poop, you’d be surprised how many things it activates.” 

You and Yaz exchanged a look. 

“Oh, don’t you love a good mystery?” The Time Lady sighed, scanning a couple of random tombs, in search of who knows what. “Cause, I do. So much. Especially if it’s a creepy one. Two birds with one stone.”

You hummed amusedly, finding it funny how she still thought she could scare you in such a desolate place. 

“Doc, can’t you just admit your defeat?” Yaz complained, lolling her head backwards. “She isn’t scared, at all. If anything, I’d say she is enjoying it way too much.”

You chuckled, slightly shaking your head, “Now Yaz, that would be insensitive of me, all things considered. But I’m definitely enjoying how scared you are. Not that it’s a surprise.”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

You reached up and clung to her arm, “I love you too.”

After, you pointed a finger at the Doctor, so engrossed in examining every inch of the planet, and to talk to herself– Maybe not to herself, you did miss a couple of her sentences along the way. When the Doctor was excited she rambled, and when she rambled, she could go on and on, passing from one thing to another. 

“Look how eager she is to solve this. How can you deny her a single thing?” 

Yaz sighed in defeat, humming, “I know that. It’s just–”, a pause and you turned towards her, her face dimmed a bit, “I really have a bad feeling about this place. And I’m not saying that just because it’s full of gravestones and it smells like, well, death…”

Before you could say anything else to try and reassure your friend, the Doctor stepped in rather excitedly. “I think I detected the Soulspire, well the sonic did. Should be right up that hill! A small walk. Probably medium-length actually,” she said in one breath. 

“Define medium-length…” Yaz muttered, squinting her eyes. 

You chuckled when the Doctor simply shrugged at that. You spotted an amused grin plastered on her face, as proof that she was clearly enjoying this. 

Yaz whined. “Doctor!” 

“Less talking, more footing. Come on, come on, come one-!” 

[l-in-the-light]

How does Law deal with his fear of losing loved ones? 😢

Uh, how does he deal with it... Considering what we saw already, I think the answer is "he deals with it badly".

Let's take a closer look at the situations in which he lost people. Fair warning, this will be kinda long and I will go into insufferable number of details, because I feel like it :D Flevance, for starters. First he lost his parents, then his friends from church, then finally his sister, and each time it seems to hit him only harder. One of these traumas would be enough to make you paranoid of losing anyone ever again, but it's a freaking triple portion of that.

Helplessly sitting there in the midst of corpses of his friends, crying and screaming, as if they could still hear him.

His first longterm reaction was losing faith, but not just in religion or god, but "anything". This means he most likely lost faith in people's kindness and compassion (soldiers killing off children and the nun), honesty (again, soldiers tricking the nun and breaking their promise to her to save the children), morality (not even women and kids will be spared), his doctor skills (he didn't manage to save anyone despite being a kid of a doctor), trust in others (because again no one helped him, his parents or anyone else in Flevance. He got out just because he didn't expect to receive any help, he's solely self-dependant at the age of 10 and probably survived on the streets completely by himself too).

Finally, he joined Doflamingo's Family out of desperation, but at first they didn't want to take him in.

He was sitting on a pile of trash, having a really vivid flashback that clearly triggered him and make him lash out at Corazon, full of directionless rage. He was probably thinking they won't accept him into the family after all, so he wanted to take down at least one life of a "scum", as he said it himself.

But even after they accepted him into the family, he's still pretty much expressionless and avoiding getting close with people, which might have been his subconscious self-defense mechanism. If he's not close to anyone, it won't hurt him anymore if anyone dies. He might have been part of the family, getting engaged with his studies and training, but he really didn't grow close with them. Sure, he spends some time with Baby5 and Buffalo, but it seems their interactions are mostly forced by the other kids and didn't start from Law's own initiative.

Like here, "I wasn't asking for [your real names]" and "I only said [my name] because you kept bugging me!". He is not curious about the other kids, he doesn't feel like having fun anymore either (possible sign of depression or traumatic response: suddenly not enjoying things you previously did enjoy). Considering the fact he believes he's gonna die soon, depression would be also pretty much understandable.

Summing it up, at first he dealt with it by putting distance between himself and other people, succumbing to depression, not only feeling like nothing is fun but also thinking it's pointless to even try to change it, and also trying not to think about Flevance (the last part is for self-preserving reasons).

We could see him getting retraumatized over and over again while Corazon dragged him around the different hospitals, and he says it himself: it took so much toll on his mental wellbeing that it even affected his physical health and made the disease progress faster. Anything related to amber lead syndrome and what happened at Flevance, and even just people's reactions to sick people, seem to really affect him in a bad way and psychologically-wise revisit the hell he barely survived.

After he finally got someone he cares about again (Cora-san), he starts to regain his faith in people's kindness and love again (he probably thought no one can love him after he lost every single person who loved him before). Doesn't mean he stops fearing that Cora-san might die and he deals with his fear by constantly worrying about him:

He's so one-track minded about it that he doesn't even pay attention to what Cora-san is telling him. His fear and worry must have been really overwhelming him to the point that he couldn't focus on anything else.

He's blaming himself whenever anyone gets hurt as the result of trying to help him. Later he ever provokes Vergo just so he would harm Law instead of Cora-san, because Law can't deal with the thought that someone dear to him would suffer for his sake or because of his mistake.

Next step is him trying to compensate for the damage. He literally does everything Cora-san wants him to do, even go and talk to a Marine, despite having really hard time doing it (he has bad memories of the Marines and he might have feared them at this point).

Despite promising to stay put, he wants to get out of the chest as soon as he hears gunshots (after all last time it happened, Cora-san ended up badly injured!). But what would he do next, if he truly managed to get out? You can guess it, he would take the blow for Cora-san instead of him. He tried to do the same before, take the beating from Vergo so he stops harming his Cora-san. Law's not beyond self-sacrificing himself if it saves people who are dear to him. He would prefer to die himself than seeing them die (especially for his sake) and not being able to do anything about it.

That's why he says this despite the fact he's in such a bad state he can't move. But he doesn't worry about himself, only about his crew's wellbeing (they can't die on him!).

It's the same in Dressrosa. He either sacrifices himself for them so they can escape (he almost died there, lost his arm, was buying time for Luffy; all of these actions count as sacrifice), or he dies together with them. Technically, what Bepo did by saving him makes Law 100% re-live his past trauma again.

And since trauma is a vicious cycle, that means he might go back to his previous stages after he lost to Blackbeard: putting distance between himself and people, keeping people dear to him safe (which means away from him), trying to focus the possible backlash on himself instead of on them. Generally, he would make sure they don't get harmed for his sake. He might go on another solo mission, leaving his crew behind, just like he did for Dressrosa and Punk Hazard (until he stumbled upon Strawhats, but he also wanted to break the alliance before they get too engaged into his plan, despite barely knowing them).

That could potentially also make us better understand his refusal to get saved by Luffy back in Dressrosa, especially after Law made sure that Doflamingo lashes out at him, not Luffy and the Strawhats, sacrificing himself for them and buying time.

He also deals with his fear by being overprotective. What could he even do for Luffy here if someone attacks them? He couldn't even move or stand up! He would protect Luffy simply by bodyblocking, taking harm in his place... His own survival or wellbeing be damned.

So the second phase of him dealing with his fear of losing people is being overprotective of them, pushing them out of harm's way even at the cost of his own wellbeing or life (sometimes that means tucking them away in a safe place, sometimes it means taking the damage on himself in their place), and agreeing with anything and everything to compensate for putting them in danger, as long as it doesn't harm them. For example, they want to carry them for half of Dressrosa in uncool fashion? So be it, as long as they're not in danger.

That's Law's way of dealing with his fear at it's worst. At it's best though? Hearts and Luffy taught him again how to have faith in people. Bepo, Penguin and Shachi (and Wolf) opened his heart after he had again no one left (second time in his life already) and simply were there for him, and he returned the favour. He lived in quite a peaceful town so for a while he didn't have to worry about losing them (though he had to save their lives twice anyway, always overdoing himself in the process and doing everything by himself, because he couldn't mentally handle the possibility of losing them). Yet soon after trouble in the town happened, he decided it's time to leave the island for good and maybe it wasn't just a coincidence; his fear of losing people might have finally pushed him to take that step.

Law also trusted Luffy to deal with the Sanji's situation on his very own. He could have gone with Luffy to Whole Cake Island, simply because he was worried sick and afraid he might lose him, but he chose to *have faith* in him instead and to wait for him in Wano. What's the difference between this situation and Dressrosa? I guess the urgency. In a normal situation, he can convince himself that it's okay and people won't die on him, if he tries hard enough to fight his fear. Perhaps he also takes some measures to prevent bad stuff from happening, to calm his mind (could he help Luffy in any way on the Whole Cake Island despite not being there by himself? Who knows. But I wouldn't put it past him). But when the situation is dire, he loses to that fear and does really reckless things to protect people. Thankfully, he still has enough awareness to not die on people either, but at times it gets alarmingly close (again, nearly dying in Dressrosa, putting himself in jail in exchange for freeing his Hearts in Wano).

Third time's the charm, let's see how he reacts after the scare of losing his crew to Blackbeard and probably believing, yet again, this is all his fault, because he's the captain and responsbile for their wellbeing. What do you think, after Law lost did the Heart Pirates throw themselves between him and the enemy to protect him?

Because I think they did, 100% certain of it. Law would take it really badly. He would feel like he's again in his past, having to watch his parents and sister and kids dying, or Cora-san being shot to death, and Law again can't do anything about it. That ought to crank up his fear of losing people to 1000%. We can't really expect rational behaviour out of him as the result. I think he will do anything to never repeat it again, and that doesn't mean training like crazy with his crew, but instead leaving them behind so they're out of the harm's way. It is definitely not one of his better days, in which his faith in people will win over his fear of losing them.

I don't know how much he's bluffing when he says things like that, both in Dressrosa and Wano, but even if he himself doesn't always believe in this, just him saying it to others means a lot. Also faith in others doesn't have to be "blind faith". I think it's unreasonable to expect Law to have blind faith in *anything* after what he went through in his life. But he seems to never doubt Luffy, for example, and that's also a sign of his belief in him. Doesn't mean he won't worry his ass over him or that he won't become overprotective, because one doesn't exclude the other :)

And a bonus: how I wish Law dealt with his fear instead. I want him to have a strong crew that he can have faith in to take care of themselves, to trust his dear people to prioritize their own survival (even if it's Usopp's style!) so he won't have to worry for them dying for the cause. And he should definitely stay close to Luffy, because they both having self-sacrificing tendencies and they both worry about each other so much. They can learn together how to be better about it. But Law's fear will always come back in worst situations, because something so deeply rooted can't just go away and never resurface. I'm sure he can manage it better though, we saw him doing that in Zou!

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Chapter II - Conversation/Confrontation

[michael afton x reader] you -- always you

content warning: (these are implied/referenced) character death, self-harm, underage drinking

tags: GN!reader, romance, fix-it of sorts, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, friends to lovers, eventual happy ending

Two months had passed since then.

Things went smoother after that first encounter with the infamous Michael Afton. First acquaintances, occasional study buddies, now friends.

Some people shot you odd looks at first, but the way you were able to talk casually with him sparked a little something amongst others. Not in a bad way, though!– not at all. He was starting to interact with more than just you, and that was nothing to be jealous of. On occasion, you’d walk into class to see a random student saying a brief hello, or as he had with you, point out an incorrect answer for someone who’d asked him to look over their math homework. Of course, this was a once-in-two-weeks sort of thing — still rare — but it was something different. Something new. It wouldn't have been far off to presume kids wanted to speak to him but were too nervous to. And now that you’d broken down their initial impression of him, they’d gathered enough courage to say hello.

“Okay, so, if y equals f(x), and f is a differential function, then the differential dx is an independent variable and the differential dy is a dependent variable.”

“What.”

“Dependent means it’s like the outcome. Independent is what you put in. Kinda like with a science experience, except we’re replacing input and output with math. Got it?”

“Kinda. Enough.”

“Alright. So you know how when you change one side of an equation, you gotta equal it out on the other side? Like say y equals x turns into y plus six equals x plus six?”

“Yes?”

“When you turn one side of an equation into a differential, you do the same to the other side.”

With a sigh, you groan and smack your head into the pile of papers that constitutes your homework. There’s a midterm on Monday, and though you’ve gotten nowhere on your own, it’s already Friday. 

“Well, yeah, I know that. We already did trigonometry differentials.”

“But do you know how it looks, visually ? When you use calculus, you’re not just figuring out the rate of change. You’re figuring out the area between points, and with a second derivative, the volume between points.”

“Okay— okay— slow down, my brain is gonna melt.”

Michael rolls his eyes and grabs your pad of graph paper this time. Within 30 seconds, he’s done sketching two models — a 2D one that shades in the space under a straight slope, and a 3D one that turns the slope into the outline of a cone.

“So you already know that a derivative is the rate of change for a slope. That’s like the basic starter for calculus. Applying it is usually in the form of taking one point—“ he places a dot near the beginning of each diagram— “and calculating the area or volume from that point to another.” He draws another dot halfway through. “Does that make a little more sense?”

You peak out from the shelter you’ve made above your head with your arms.

“Oh. Yes, actually.”

The visual representations help. A lot. And much more than your actual math teacher ever could. Still, he looks unsatisfied with how much you two have done so far.

“Look— midterm’s on Monday and we’re not even halfway through the material you need to know. Are you sure you’re gonna be fine?”

“Yeah- no,” you hiss quietly, sitting up straight to look at him. He’s perched at the edge of the library table, looking down on you with a genuinely concerned expression. Your grades weren’t everything to you, but they sure as hell were important to your parents, and he knew that. “I don’t understand how you get any of this when you’re not even in the class!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, not like I didn’t try to transfer. Apparently getting an F in your last math class means you can’t move up.”

“But you can do the work!”

“You think school counselors actually care about that?” he snickers, pushing himself off the desk before offering a slow, awkward solution. “How about this – what if you slept over?”

You don’t mind, but you hesitate, biting your tongue. “I don’t want to intrude… You work tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

“I mean, sure, but even if I have to get up early, I can still teach you tonight. Maybe even tomorrow afternoon once I get home. Hell, you could even visit the restaurant. I don’t do much other than exist there.”

“Are you sure? I thought you didn’t want me to meet your dad.”

“To be honest, I don’t think father’s coming home tonight. He’s off opening another branch of Fazbear’s. I dunno – something like that.”

** * **

A sleepover at Michael’s house.

God, it shouldn't have been such a big deal. You’ve been to sleepovers before! You just hadn’t been to a sleepover at his house before, and hell, you hadn’t even been at his house.

Michael had been insistent for the past few months that you stay away from his father. Whatever it was about William Afton that he hated, he hadn’t truly explained in detail, but it definitely had something to do with the incident all those years ago. Living with the memory on one’s own wouldn’t have been easy, but had you been the one involved, you couldn’t imagine the added pressure of facing your parents on a day to day basis.

How do you grapple with the fact that you lost a child because of another?

“Almost there.”

Michael’s voice snaps you out of a daze. You’ve been staring out the window of his station wagon for the past few minutes, having been picked up from home after you’d packed. You had to ride back to your place initially, seeing as you didn’t have your license yet, and needed to pop in to tell your parents where you’d be staying for the evening. Despite stereotypes, your dad was the one who didn’t seem to mind while your mom had to be wrestled into being convinced. It was only after you said that Michael’s mother would be there the whole time, as well as his younger sister, that she was convinced.

“Just use protection, okay?” she had muttered, peppering kisses all over your face.

The thought made you grimace.

Not that you found Michael unattractive! Not at all! But mom, stop, no–

“So what’s your mom like?” you ask Michael, slumping in the passenger seat.

“A try-hard when it comes to acting nice. At least my father’s honest when it comes to hating me.”

“But you get along with her?”

“Well enough.”

It’s not long before he’s parked the car and pulling your duffel bag of clothes out of the back seat. You take in the house before you – much bigger than yours, with a three car garage, second story, and sizable porch. Maybe that was a normal sized house elsewhere, but in the backwater town of Hurricane, it was the biggest and most well-kept around. Even the property itself is big – though there’s no sidewalk outline at the edge of town, from the plants that look well-watered, it’s at least three or four acres of land. 

Rich ass family.

Michael swings your duffel bag over his shoulder before going up to the front door. He raps the back of his knuckles on the wood twice before fishing out his keys and shoving one in the bottom lock. Before he can unlock the door, however, it’s quickly swung open by a middle school-aged girl with bright green eyes and even brighter orange locks that flare out wildly behind her.

“Michael!”

“Hey superstar,” Michael grins, holding out his hand to the girl, palm flat.

The ten year old smiles back and slides her own hand down across his, initiating a ritualistic handshake in the process. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore!”

“Yeah? Well if you were an adult, you wouldn’t look or sound so much like a goblin,” Michael laughs, placing his hand briefly on the top of her head before he walks past to welcome you inside and introduce you. “This,” he says, gesturing to the girl, “is my little sister, Elizabeth. She’s a brat, so don’t fall for her charms.”

Elizabeth is quick to stick her tongue out at Michael. He returns it instantly and goes so far as to flick her forehead, though she stuns him without a hit.

“Are you two dating?”

The simultaneous NO that spits from you and Michael practically shakes the house.

“We’re just going to study together, that’s it,” you swear through gritted teeth.

“Mhm,” she hums skeptically, sending Michael the type of shit-eating grin only a sibling could make.

“I help you with your homework, so don’t even,” he warns.

“Yeah, but fact check, dummy: we’re siblings. It kinda comes with the job description.”

“Oh, Michael. You’re home.”

From the top of the staircase, a soft yet tired voice calls. Following the sound, you spot a middle-aged woman on the second floor landing – blonde hair pulled back into tight curls and lilac purple robe tucked over her shoulders. Like Elizabeth, her eyes are a shade of green, but it’s clear that they’ve dulled significantly over the years. Now, they’re almost as grey as the smoke wafting from the cigarette in her hand.

“Mom,” Michael begins, gesturing to you, “this is my friend–” you lift up a hand to wave– “and they’re staying overnight to study for a midterm on Monday.”

“Mm.” 

Her hum shows little interest but acknowledges you at the very least. 

“Go ahead and order some food for dinner. I’m too tired to cook.”

** * **

Michael and Elizabeth have a functional brother-sister relationship. But the rest of the family? That’s a completely different matter. From what you can tell, their dynamic goes like this: Michael and Elizabeth, good. Michael and mom, neglected. Michael and father? Let’s not even try.

There are family portraits on the wall that paint a clearer picture. A singular frame shows them all together, and it lies at the end of the hallway, hidden away. Michael stands behind his father, Elizabeth next to her mother, and there was even another brown-haired boy in Mrs. Afton’s lap – the victim of ‘83. From there, the pictures change. Elizabeth and their parents, their parents alone. Michael is absent. So is the boy.

The only other pictures with Michael are next to his bed, and they’re Kodak prints. No frame in sight. Also no ‘Mr. Afton.’

You finally got to see them after a quick dinner with Michael and Elizabeth. Perhaps at some point, they weren’t the best of siblings. Or rather, he wasn’t the best older brother (-- wonder how anyone could come to that conclusion). But his attempt to atone the past was evident from the moment you met Elizabeth. If he couldn’t make up with his brother, he’d make up with her.

Granted, Elizabeth never mentioned anything of the incident. You weren’t sure if she was ignoring it, if she didn’t take it seriously, or if she didn’t remember at all. From the family portrait, she looked around the same age as the young boy – four or five – so it was possible that she didn’t recall a life before her parents distanced themselves from Michael, or from each other. Mrs. Afton didn’t exactly look like a doting wife or mother. Maybe the type of person who does the bare minimum. But you also couldn’t blame her. Not entirely.

It’s another hour or two of calculus at the dinner table, post-Mexican food binge. You don’t understand how Michael is so patient with you, but now knowing that he also helped Elizabeth, he must’ve had lots of practice. Eventually, however, it’s you who asks to stop for the night.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore. Not today, at least. I think I need to recharge,” you whine softly, snapping your textbook shut after finishing another practice problem. “Got any mind-numbing movies?”

Michael withdraws from the position he’s in, standing over you, and looks toward the glass cabinet in the living room. “Uh– we got Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Little Mermaid.”

“Ooh, Harrison Ford.”

Your dreamy coo prompts him to wrinkle his nose. “He’s forty-seven.”

“Uh- yeah. And?”

“He’s older than my father.”

“And?”

He shoves your face away, instigating a giggle from your lips.

“What can I say?” you smile. “A man who ages like fine wine is…” You trail off, placing a hand in front of your mouth mockingly to imitate a chef’s kiss.

Michael gags and waves you off. “Just go. My room’s the first one at the top of the stairs. I’ve got a TV.”

“You got a TV in your bedroom ?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s my family’s old one. Not like we have family movie nights.”

That, you can’t argue with. 

The march up the stairs is brief, and soon, you’re closing the door behind you. Aside from its size, Michael’s room is a typical teenager’s room – mostly. Posters of bands and movies you’ve never heard of, a desk that clearly hasn’t been organized in months. A pile of dirty clothes (-- or clean, who knows?--) has been kicked away in a corner as well, and above an unmade bed is a string of polaroid pictures and doodles on ripped paper – probably torn off the edges of homework. There’s even a Foxy plush sitting upright against his pillow, metallic hook and plastic eye replaced by stitched cloth. In spite of his clear distaste for his father – seen in one picture where the man’s face has been covered by a silly Bonnie sketch – and the mound of childhood trauma you’ve only partially uncovered, it seems that Michael still has some affection for the characters.

The view from the room is nice, too. The sun has already begun to set, casting golden light against the walls, yet as you look out into the trees and scarlet landscape, out of the corner of your eye, a glint of light from the trash can catches your attention. Innocent curiosity gets the better of you, and you kneel by the small bin under his desk to uncover the metallic reflection. It’s covered by crumpled paper and candy wrappers, instigating a smile when you see even more doodles and new badge designs drawn on different pages. That smile drops, however, when you find the source of the reflection: not just several empty cans of beer left haphazardly tossed away – but the razor of a pencil sharpener with the faint hint of suspicious iron brown.

Ah.

“I got the VHS ta—“

He stops short when he sees you staring at the blade in silence.

“It’s…,” he begins, only to trail off and give up on explaining. All he does is kneel down,set the VHS tape aside, and start tossing the papers back into the bin – not even questioning what you were doing digging through his trash.

“... So,” you say slowly, folding your hands in your lap, “how long have you been… you know.”

He’s quiet until he finishes.

“... A while.”

“I– I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I mean, I know–”

“No, you don’t–

“And if your mom or dad or sister found--”

His eyes snap in your direction.

“Mom doesn’t care enough to go in my room. Father sees me as nothing more than the kid who killed his son. And Elizabeth–” he curses under his breath and rubs his face– “Elizabeth shouldn’t have to deal with any of our shit. But at least she knows not to snoop. ”

For the first time since you met, you find him glaring at you – only this time, not with suspicion, but denial. Denial that he has a problem. Denial that it matters. That he matters.

“Michael,” you whisper softly, looking him in the eye. “You’re not okay, and that’s okay. ”

He holds your gaze for several more seconds before his own softens and the whole of him wilts. “I– I’m sorry, I just– I didn’t think anyone would actually tell me that or– or listen–”

Michael’s voice comes out in broken stutters between shallow breaths. Your heart swells at the sound, and the realization of how alone he must have been finally sets in. It’s been fact before. Cold, hard knowledge. But now it’s tangible – palpable – and horrible, terrible, true. Without another word, you reach forward and pull him into an embrace, arms wrapped tight around a trembling body. He stays limp, hands resting at his sides, but you don’t mind. He doesn’t have to reciprocate. He just needs to have–

You.

And you whisper, again–

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

** * **

It’s four thirty when you wake up.

After a quiet movie session, Michael lugged up a few couch cushions and set them on the floor. He didn’t take no for an answer when he told you to take his bed, though you weren’t sure if it was out of guilt over his outburst or day-to-day selflessness. Maybe both.

Still, you were grateful for the comfort of a mattress over the makeshift couch-cushion bed, knowing the gaps between pillows would make it difficult to sleep. His bed was soft and warm, and though tainted with the faint smell of cigarette smoke, also smelled like him. You could stay here for days.

So of course, it was a surprise when you found yourself unable to go back to bed.

You step over Michael, careful not to make any noise, and brush a stray lock of his hair into place before leaving the room. He’ll have to wake up in about half an hour to get ready for work, so you decide to get a headstart on things and make breakfast. Mrs. Afton doesn’t look like she’d have the energy to make breakfast early on the weekend, and cooking is the least you could do. Maybe something simple so you don’t take up too many ingredients either. Maybe pancakes!-- Elizabeth would probably like that.

The kitchen is large and littered with several cabinets, but you’re able to find everything you need for pancakes, plus a package of bacon and a carton of eggs you plan to fry. It’s simple but plenty, and rolling up your sleeves, you get to work right away.

The eggs and bacon are fried in succession on another pan while you get to work on the pancakes. Flour, egg, milk – they’re poured together in a large bowl, and as you wait for the griddle to heat up, you wipe down the counters to clean any bits of stray flour that’s flown out of place.

Seeing it all come together, you actually feel quite proud of yourself. This would be payment for Michael’s tutoring and make up for your intrusion. Now to pour the batter for the last pancake and—

Click.

The front door, unlocked, now comes swinging open.

There in the doorway, with a silhouette outlined by the light of the morning sun, was a man dressed neatly in a fine suit. His purple vest and the coat hanging off his shoulders reminded you of Michael in his work uniform. Everything about him screamed Michael, really, especially once he stepped forward and the kitchen lights had brightened his face. The same dark hair. The same pale bluish grey eyes. Nearly identical facial features, but paler, and darker, and cold — cold — cold–

“And who might you be?”

Same faint accent.

Uncomfortable silence permeates throughout the room as you lock eyes with the man. There’s something unusual about him, and it’s not just the way he’s an obvious genetic duplicate of his son. It’s in the way his clothes are almost too put together for an entire night of work. In the way his silver-striped hair is similarly slick and styled back. And it’s in the way he looks at you — observing, scrutinizing, flickering. Eyes drifting from the food to you, and in particular, your neck. Like he’s debating how easy it could break—

“Well, child, are you going to answer me?”

The staring contest ends abruptly when you peel your eyes away.

“I’m Michael’s friend. From school. I stayed over to study for midterms last night.”

“I see.”

“You’re awfully trusting considering he’s not here to verify.”

“Yes, and you’re certainly a burglar who stopped to make themselves pancakes. I’m terrified. ”

He tugs the suit jacket from his shoulders and hangs it on the coat rack by the front door, as if he had just come home from a regular nine to five, not five in the morning. A gulp forces itself down your throat before you pour the batter, sleepy fog now thoroughly purged from your mind. Though you no longer look directly at him, you keep him in the corner of your eye, stiffly aware of whatever space he seeks to occupy. And unsurprisingly, he seems intent on occupying the kitchen with you.

“You know, it’s good that Michael’s been making friends,” he comments, heading for the coffee maker behind you. “Boy’s had a hard time getting along with others his age.”

“I heard.”

“You know why, then?”

“I’m not a fool, Mr. Afton. Of course I know why.”

As you go to flip the now-ready pancake, he abruptly takes the sugar from your side, making you jump. Standing like this, you’re practically trapped between him and the counter. Nowhere to go. Your heart doesn’t drop so much as it begins tugging downward like a weighted stone. Seeing the look on your face and the tension in your shoulders, his amusement is audible as he speaks, voice soothing yet visible stature alarming.

“Please, don’t bother with ‘Mr. Afton.’ It’s William. And apologies, my dear. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shake your head and set the spatula down once done, waiting for the other side of the pancake to brown.

“It’s fine. I guess I’m just a little jumpy since it’s so early in the morning.”

“Not used to waking up early?”

“More like I couldn’t sleep.”

He nods before continuing the earlier topic. “My son… let’s just say that he’s a wounded soul. Always been a troublemaker, that boy.”

You can’t help but scoff lightly at his words. The way Michael talks about his father already has you predisposed to taking every one of Mr. Afton’s words as bullshit. It’s not like Michael would lie about his family for attention. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have self-isolated. It would just be–

“He self-sabotages, you know? My wife and I gave him so many an opportunity. We still do. We’ve encouraged every sport, every hobby – music and art and even robotics. He’s wasted them all.”

“I wouldn’t say wasted,” you defend in a softer tone. “He’s pretty good at art. And I didn’t come here to teach him anything. He’s the one who taught me .” You pause before adding on to soften the tone of the conversation. “... I mean, that’s why I’m cooking breakfast for everyone. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, he’s smart enough, I’ll give him that. But in terms of effort? In terms of trying to get somewhere with that brain of his? Ha–”

William’s words are bile on your tongue. A part of you knows that some part of it is true, but you also know why it’s true, and that’s what really matters. Michael hates himself. Can’t you see? Can’t you tell? Do you even give a fuck? Do you even care?--

“In any case, I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure Elizabeth will be happy when she wakes up.” He pours a teaspoon of sugar into his hot coffee before backing away.

You’re about to respond when you hear Michael’s bedroom door swing open from up the stairs. Your best friend rubs his weary eyes, halfway through a yawn when he stops in his tracks, gaze landing on his father, you, then his father again.

“You’re home.”

It’s said none too warmly.

William clicks his tongue, his strides now somewhat hurried compared to before. “It’s my house, is it not?”

Wanting to defuse the situation, you raise the pan slightly from the stove as if to show Michael. “Hey– I– uh– I made breakfast for you. And Elizabeth and your mom, too, I guess, but it might be cold by the time they wake up.”

At your feeble attempt to calm things down, Michael mutters a curse under his breath before hurrying over, instantly placing himself between you and his father. Not that he actually interacts with the older man – just gives him the cold shoulder, sticking by your side. William gets the message, but while he continues to move away, it’s not exactly in the most generous manner.

“It’s time I check on Elizabeth. I’ll wake her for you, don’t worry – I’m sure she’ll love the surprise. As for myself, I’ll get to bed. Sleep the day away before I visit the new location again.” He sends Michael a toothy grin, pearly whites shining in the dark. “Have fun, you two. Henry will be managing the pizzeria tomorrow. I’m sure things will be more… relaxed that way.”

Though you stare as William leaves, you can see Michael tense even more out of the corner of your eye and instinctively move a hand to brush his. Still, you shudder. No matter how polite William had seemed, there was something inherently unnerving about him.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers as soon as his father’s bedroom door has closed.

“Sorry for what? He didn’t do anything.”

“Not yet. Not yet.”

[o-sachi]

Blue Lock Top 5s because I'm bored

Top 5 I like based on narrative/writing

Top 5 I'd date

Kinda wildly different, idk u judge

All under the cut

Top 5 Based on the Story

1 | Michael Kaiser

Where do I even begin...

For starters, he has a really strong presence in the story and his introduction was hella good.

I have a thing for cocky characters who can walk the talk (we ignore the goals he missed because c'mon, HE IS STILL PART OF THE NEW GEN 11 !!! THAT SPEAKS FOR ITSELF)

But me liking him mostly has to do with his backstory. I resonate with him a lot—not that I experienced the same abusive childhood, but the feeling of wanting to be enough/to be loved really hits hard.

I am also a sucker for great characters who have to shed their skin or the ones who experience a fall from grace only to rise again. It's really inspiring and different in a way. I love to see them get humbled yk?

Also, I like that he had to work hard to be where he is today. The reason why I like him and Lorenzo is because they essentially stand out among the other blue lockers who came from better families/environments.

I just love him. He holds a special place in my heart. He needs to be protected at all times.

I know manipulation is wrong but it's kinda funny how this mf studied psychology for the most whack ass reason possible. Jeez.

2 | Isagi Yoichi

I have to say that I rarely end up liking the MC of most animanga that I read or watch. It's because they're usually so... plain. Like the squarely fall into one archetype and it gets boring. But not Isagi.

I LOVE how he's gentle and kind when off the field, but an absolute menace when he's actually playing football. It's interesting to see.

I like that he's somewhat an underdog. I say somewhat because he didn't start off as someone who knows nothing at all about football. Neither was he hindered by anything serious. Just a plain ol' underdog who happens to go against players that are naturally better than him.

Underdog stories in sports anime are my shit after all.

Redditors say that Isagi's puzzle shit analysis is cringy, but I actually like his analytical nature. It's one of the things I like the most about bllk tbh.

All the blue lockers love him and so do I. Simple as that.

3 | Reo Mikage

It took me a while to really really appreciate Reo.

I just find his character endearing because he truly works hard.

He's from a rich family who could give him anything he wants without him having to lift a finger, yet he tries so hard to prove himself and achieve something solely by himself.

It's just really admirable.

He has his moments, but I think Reo's overall a sweet and genuine person. I felt bad for him when Nagi set him aside.

Of course, Reo initially befriended Nagi for the purpose of playing football together and dominating the sport, BUT he put actual trust into their friendship.

4 | Bachira Meguru

MY OG

I think it's exclusive to sports animanga, but I really like the characters who are lowkey crazy. The moment he fucking kicked Igaguri in the face—I knew.

Super fun to watch.

I like how his backstory is a completely different atmosphere compared to what kind of person he is on the surface. Of course, he probably still has some scars from the past, but that's what I think makes him a good character.

Like Reo, I think he's a genuine person. Sure, he's ready to throw hands anytime, but I can see that he really values certain people in bllk, whether as a friend or someone who pushes him to do better.

GIVE US MORE BACHIRA PLS

5 | Shidou Ryusei

Crazy motherfucker. I DIG THAT.

He's a bit weird, perverted, all over the place—but I like it. A refreshing sight.

Like I know the "crazy" character isn't new, especially to sports anime. But unlike those before him, I think he genuinely enjoys football more so than dominating others.

Sure, he loves to win. But there's a difference between engaging in a sport to make others submit to you and to defeat others fair and square.

Kind of mysterious and I like that. He could climb up the ranks depending on what backstory Kaneshiro san cooks up.

Top 5 That I'd Date

1 | Karasu Tabito

There's something about guys from the countryside that HIT DIFFERENT. Personally, I'm not from a city either, so I guess I'm not that into city boys or the really posh kind of guys.

THE ACCENT

I like guys who are more simple and down to earth, but still have personality. He's so cute and playful, but he's still a simple lil guy.

I like guys who enjoys playful banter w you and would tease u a bit 😗

He's tall, has dark hair, a cocky smirk. NEED I SAY MORE?

We're both scared of water so when we go to the beach or the pool we could just chill together instead.

I find it really endearing about his character that he refuses to tell people about the last time he cried. 'Cuz obviously, a lot of men are probably embarrassed about admitting that which should be changed. I JUST WANT TO GIVE HIM A BIG HUG.

We have the same mole under the eye and our birthdays are 5 days apart. And I'm fucking delusional 😚

I just fw his personality a lot.

He could match my freak.

2 | Barou Shoei

I like mature guys. Periodt.

I love me a domestic guy. He likes cleaning, cooking, taking care of his siblings. Like??? WHAT ELSE COULD YOU ASK FOR?

I feel like I would get scolded a lot... joke's on him I'm into that.

I was kidding btw.

Idk, dude. Responsible men just turn me the fuck on 😓

I admire his work ethic and how seriously he takes his passion.

He's tall, beefy, always looks mad... and I dig that a lot.

What the fuck is that new hairstyle though.

3 | Yukimiya Kenyu

This is extra delusional because I would never get this green of a flag yk?

HE SEEMS SO SWEET AND KIND.

He also seems like the type who would be kind and understanding in the relationship, but would still take the lead.

Idk, tbh, I just chose him because he would be a good partner. Would we make a good pair? Not really.

4 | Noel Noa

I have daddy issues.

That's it.

No, but have you seen the recent art of him in a suit? GOOD LORD.

But actually he is my 4th choice. Don't come for me 😓

5 | I lied about the top 5 thing. There aren't enough characters of age to choose from (I wouldn't date Mihya or Sae. They're hot, I get that. Buttttttt I don't think I can actually handle them. I think I'd be too sensitive about how they treat me sob. And Aiku is a headache.)