#it was fine the way that it was just a little unpolished

[julesyoufool]

There is no one left in the world that I can hold onto

There is really no one left at all

There is only you

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

[sttm99]

You've always noticed Bakugo.

Easily.

You almost took it as a thing of pride, having been able to see the potential so easily. When you were all fifteen-year old first years, you could so easily tell he was handsome. Your teenage eyes always seemed to search for him in every class, every room.

He was brash and unpolished, loud, obnoxious, and an all-round piece of shit. But that stupid, wattpad-infested, schoolgirl mind of yours couldn't help but eat it up.

You could never muster up the courage to talk to him, though. He was mean, and you weren't like Mina or Kirishima that could hang out with him and not be bothered by it.

So you settled with admiring him from afar, keeping your attraction to yourself and never really coming into the space that is Katsuki Bakugo throughout your first year.

Second year was the year you had your first encounter with him. It was in the final months of the year, when you two had been paired together for a project.

He came over to your table at the end of the school day with his bag lazily slung over his shoulder as he stood above you by your desk.

"My room this evening. 6:30. We'll start then and see how far we can go." He tells you swiftly, in that voice that had begun to crack already, eliciting slightly more mature thoughts from you.

"Sure." You murmur as you looked up at him.

He turned around and left immediately, not once turning back to look at you, his other friends following him out the door.

You knocked on his door at 6:33, foregoing your uniform for a simple, little t-shirt and plaid trousers. He opened the door almost instantly, ushering you in and shutting it quick behind you.

"This is how it's gonna go-" He begins as he takes a seat on his desk, powering up his computer. You take the small moment where he's facing away to admire his back, his shoulders bare from the sleeveless tee he has on.

When he turns back, your face is back to a blank stare, eyes directed towards the poster he has above his bed. It's an all might one, and you think you remember it being limited edition, an expensive one that was hard to get a hold of.

"Oi, over here." He scolds you, and you turn back to him.

"Sorry," you mumble, as you step over to him, standing between his desk and his bed.

He glances at you, taking in what you're wearing. "You can sit on my bed. Those aren't outside clothes, right? So it's fine."

You slowly sit on his bed as he begins to open up a Word document. The project was for history class, and you two had gotten a time period you were disgustingly educated in.

Bakugo had already started the work, surprising you a bit. He began pointing out what he'd already done, and what you'd be doing to complete it.

"And-"

"This is wrong, by the way." You cut him off.

Bakugo looks at you slowly, a scowl taking over his pictures. "Wrong?"

You nod, your shyness melting off in the presence of your intelligence. "Yeah. This -" You point to a paragraph header. "- didn't start happening until about 50 years later - 54 specifically, actually. So, if you talk about the monarch right before this, it would look weird cause he couldn't have come into power without this practice."

Your eyes are on the laptop, pointing out mistakes and making corrections. And for the first time since you started at UA, Bakugo noticed you.

It was a subtle switch, where he went from seeing you to actually noticing you; from hearing to listening.

Were you always this smart?

Was your voice naturally that way?

Have you always smelled so good?

The evening ended with you making suggestions and adding about three paragraphs to the work.

And as he closed his eyes to sleep, all Bakugo saw was you.

This is five years past. Mina had invited a small group of them to her apartment for a mini reunion, and just like in his room years before, Bakugo noticed you.

He noticed you standing in Mina's kitchen by the sink, washing off the sauce Denki had accidentally spilt over your palms, whilst the others were in Mina's living room playing a game of charades.

"Hey." You turn to look at Bakugo by the door.

It wasn't like you'd suddenly become friends after the project you two had done together, but you could tell he'd warmed up to you a bit. He looked at you sometimes, more often than before, and didn't look away immediately after making eye contact.

Sometimes, he'd ask your opinion on something(you liked when he did. He valued what you had to say), or he'd make some side comment about you when you'd pass him in the hall sometimes. But they weren't regular Bakugo mean. He was warming up to you, in his own Bakugo away, but warming up nonetheless.

"Hi." You say back to him, turning off the tap before going to wipe your hand with some paper towels.

"Haven't seen you in a bit," Bakugo mumbles as he steps closer, leaning his hip against the counter, some few feet away from you.

Whilst he came into the spotlight, bright and loud like his quirk, you'd decided to follow Aizawa's footsteps and become an underground hero instead- foregoing the limelight for a career in busting crime rings and fucking up drug lords.

You shrug, not really looking at him, your eyes instead focusing on your hands as you dried them.

You'd grown out of your little crush quickly after graduation. Even though you could appreciate just how blindingly handsome he was, just as you'd expected, he didn't have your heart racing anymore, didn't get your palms sweaty.

Sure, maybe the sight of his veiny forearms and large shoulders did something to your stomach, but you knew the difference between pure lust and actual romantic feelings.

"Kind of the point of my work, don't you think?" You ask rhetorically.

He shrugs back. "How's it going, anyways?"

It's not something he can do, the whole underground thing. His quirk isn't quite right for it, and neither is his personality. And with how his time in UA went, he was far too recognizable to go undercover anywhere.

But he could appreciate that you were good at what you did. He wouldn't admit it, but he did keep up with some of the people he didn't bother talking to after graduation. Just a few - Deku and Todoroki - sometimes he'd look at what Uraraka and Jiro are doing.

Admittedly, he checked up on you far more often than he was willing to expose. He knew a lot of your missions and was eerily familiar with your high success rate, too.

"It's fine." You say as you throw the towel into the bin and lean back against the counter behind you, your palms holding the edge as you looked at Bakugo. "Not so glamorous, a bit scary sometimes, I guess, but- that's hero work, isn't it?"

He hums, and at the back of his mind, he hopes the others don't bother coming to look for either of you soon.

"I guess so. But hey, you've been doing good." He admits.

You raise a brow and are unable to keep the smirk off your face. "You've been following up on me?" There's a teasing lilt to your voice which Bakugo had never encountered before. The tilt of your lips changes the entire dynamic of your face.

You're less melancholic now, more sultry and seductive, and it's pulling him in without him understanding why. It's something he'd never seen from you in UA, and he wonders... what else has he not seen from you?

He scoffs at your words, folding his arms over his chest as he stares you down. "I keep up with hero news."

You chuckle a bit. "You're doing well, too, though."

He shrugs. "Thanks, I guess. 'M just waiting for all those old geezers to fucking retire."

You laugh aloud at that.

Bakugo sees Kirishima step into the doorframe behind you. He glares quickly, purposefully as you're not focused on him, still laughing. He's signalling for Kirishima to leave - he doesn't want this moment with you to end just yet.

The redhead complies, not without shooting Bakugo a sly look.

As you turn back to him, his disposition is different. He's less put off, and he's gotten closer. "So -" He starts, drumming his fingers over the countertop"- what are you doing after this?"

And you smile at him, in that sly, sultry way you did before. "It's up to you now, isn't it?"

This most probably won't have a part 2. I just wanted to get it out of my drafts.

[kingofthecotas]

part time soulmate full time problem

soulmate au, indonesia 2022 | ~ 1.6k

fun little au where everyone has a romantic and a platonic soulmate. all the mess happened but Worse because vale has an added level of neurosis about choice etc

(this does mention marc’s crash but no details)

——

The message comes among a flurry of others, from a number Marc hasn’t saved but can’t bring himself to block.

Don’t die. Faded marks are very unattractive.

He doesn’t read it until he’s through the other side, until they’ve run every test possible and decided he’s not concussed, he’s not dying, and he can have his phone back. It makes him—not laugh, but a sharp exhale that’s almost a laugh.

You’re such a dick, he replies, and does the mental maths behind the drumbeat headache. It’s almost five in the morning in Italy, so he has some time—

His phone buzzes. Not a message tone, but insistent. Fuck.

Despite himself, he answers.

“Marc?” Valentino’s voice is sleep-rough, unpolished in a way Marc hasn’t been privy to in years. His breath catches; the silence stretches on. “Unless you’ve let Álex loose with your phone.”

“No,” Marc says simply. “It’s me.”

“Hi,” Valentino breathes, and he sounds—

Marc swallows down something he can’t quite name.

“Are you flying back soon, or waiting for the plane you had booked anyway?”

“I’m not flying until after the race.”

“You’re not racing.” Valentino’s voice drops dangerously.

“They cleared me. I’m fine.” His head hurts like a motherfucker, but Valentino doesn’t have to know that. He doesn’t get to know that.

“No—no, no. Have they tested for everything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Valentino snaps. “Everything. How can they clear you that quickly?”

“They said I’m fine,” Marc repeats, then, because his head hurts and he’s feeling snippy with it, “Why do you care?”

He knows what’s coming by now, the usual litany of destiny is such bullshit, I can decide my own life, I hate having you on my body, but unfortunately we’re linked for the rest of fucking time. He’s surprised Uccio sticks around, to be honest, if he’s getting something similar thrown at him.

That doesn’t come. Instead, Valentino exhales down the phone, shaky.

“Valentino?”

“It woke me up,” Valentino says finally, like the words are being pulled from his throat one by one. “I woke up, and I felt—I felt it. And for a second, the mark—” He breaks off. “Just a second. And you were back.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Marc mutters.

“Don’t say that!” It’s sharp, cracking like a whip. It’s more than he’s had from Valentino for years.

“I—I didn’t mean that,” Marc whispers. “You’re right, that was—I’m sorry.” As if he’s the one who crossed the line first, as if he’s the one who sent a jokey little text about losing his mark. About losing his soulmate.

Because if Valentino isn’t lying—and he doesn’t sound like it—then Marc flickered, faded, even if for a split second. For a fraction of a moment, he was dead.

(Álex hadn’t said anything; but Álex would have had his leathers on. He might have felt something, but he wouldn’t have seen, wouldn’t have pulled up his shirt to an ashy smudge.)

That doesn’t help his throbbing headache.

“Please don’t race,” Valentino says after a long moment. “I—I can’t do that. It felt like I was dying.” More uncertain, more off-centre than he ever allows himself to be.

It’s nice he cares, Marc thinks, fighting down a burst of hysterical laughter, even if it’s to avoid himself suffering. He’ll probably add this to the long list of reasons he hates having soulmates—just another way for someone to hurt you. In the end, he snorts. “For me as well.”

“Marc.”

“Valentino.”

“You are—such a dick.”

Now Marc laughs. “I know. You told me a lot.” Not for a while; now, they just don’t talk. Sometimes Marc presses his fingers to his mark—still intact, despite it all, despite the twist of scars—and remembers. Just like always, the bad follows the good, and he stops that line of thought before it becomes too painful.

He’s doing it now, though, tracing one finger over it, again and again. Still dark and clear, despite it all. It hurts, but his arm always does, more when he pushes down on his soulmark.

“Marc,” Valentino says again, and just that, just his name, makes him close his eyes. “I know—I do not have any right to ask this—”

Marc hums.

“—and I know I spent so long telling the universe where to stick her soulmates, but please. Please do not get on the bike.”

“You didn’t call after Jerez,” Marc says instead of any promise.

Valentino makes a pained noise. It’s costing him a lot; it will have cost him to even pick up the phone, to roll over and show Marc his weakness. And yet Marc just wants to prod the wound a little more, to make Valentino run his fingers over his mark and feel the old throb of a bruise.

“After the first operation, when I woke up, I asked the surgeon.” Fine. If Valentino is going to offer him something, he can have something back. Give and take. Blood for blood. That’s how they do it. “He was so—shocked I was even asking, that I thought—but I couldn’t think straight, you know. All the drugs.” He smiles despite himself. “I didn’t want it to be gone.” I didn’t want you to be gone. “But you—you would give anything to get rid of it, no?”

It’s quiet for so long Marc wonders if his phone has died. Then—a slight hiss, a crackle in his ear. A breath.

“You don’t get to do this,” Marc says. “You don’t get to—you can’t tell me what to do. Not after everything.”

“You never listened anyway.” Valentino sounds—God. “I don’t—I don’t want to get rid of it.”

“Hm. Changed your tune.”

“Marc,” Valentino says. His name again. “It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning. I’m watching the Moto3 race because I’ve been awake since the middle of the night, and I can’t go back to sleep, because for half a second my mark faded.”

It used to be a little joke between them, whispered across sheets and pillows in the grey of early mornings in all their languages. My mark, mi marca, my Marc.

“I think—I cannot do that again. And…” A pause. Consideration. “You wouldn’t do that to Álex.”

“Bastard,” Marc growls. Low blow. Unfortunately, it’s working. He blinks, and his vision blurs, just for a second. To take his mind off it, he picks at the scab again. “Uccio must be thrilled. How many years has he had you telling him you don’t want soulmates?”

“Uccio knows what I mean when I say it.”

“Yeah?” It’s an old argument, familiar veins of hurt wound around it. Familiar pain, like pressing on a bruise.

“I want the choice. I would be friends with Uccio anyway, and I want that to be my decision. I wanted—” Valentino sighs. “I wanted to choose you. I would have anyway, back then.” Give and take. He’s never offered honesty like this, not for free.

Marc balls his fist, presses his knuckles against his forehead. It helps a little. “Do you think we would have ended up here still?”

“I think so.” It’s almost sad. “And at least then—”

“You don’t have the reminder. I know.”

“But without it—well, I would not be woken up at three o’clock in the morning. And I would not have called.”

Marc moves his hand back to his arm, presses the tip of a nail in. Traitorous thing, really, his soulmark. He understands Valentino in a way he was too hurt to, back then, back when it was unravelling like a cut thread. “That’s something.”

“Is it?”

And a hot flash of irritation, over quickly; even at their lowest he could never stay angry for long. “Not for you, then.”

Another silence—Marc is getting good at living in them—before Valentino says, “I am going to make coffee. The machine is loud. Just warning you.”

“What—?”

“It’s nearly five o’clock.”

“You keep saying.”

“If you are going to wake me up, you can wait while I have my espresso.”

You. As if Marc is the one etched into his skin.

(He is.)

“Now you avoid the conversation,” Marc mutters under the sound of beans grinding.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He pulls his phone away just to check the time, and—they’ve been on the call for eleven minutes. It should feel earth-shattering.

It doesn’t.

And Valentino wants Marc to wait.

He could hang up now. He could. It would be easy, easy as pressing down on his mark. One finger.

He doesn’t.

“Are you trying to distract me?” he says when the machine stops groaning. “Keep me on the phone so I miss the race?”

“That wasn’t the plan, but now you mention it…”

“You have a few more hours.”

“I can manage that.”

“Yeah?” And then, because he can’t just leave it the fuck alone, “Been a while, no? Lots to catch up on.”

“Marc.” It’s a wrecked noise this time, his name. “I am trying—”

Marc doesn’t apologise this time. Valentino hasn’t apologised at all, but that’s—

He expects that.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes again, accepts the white flag. “Can’t, anyway. They have to get me in a helicopter to get back to the circuit. No phones in there.”

“Ah. Thought I had convinced you.” There’s resignation now.

“You know me.”

“Yes.” He does. They do. But—they all know the deal with soulmates. You can’t be selfish with your life, not when you live on somebody else’s skin. They know that too.

“It’s not fair,” he says, half to himself into the silence that, for once, means Valentino is listening. “This was—this year, everything was supposed to be done. Start over.”

“Without me there?”

“Not everything is about you.” It’s too late when Marc realises that he’s smiling, and that there had been a laugh curled around Valentino’s words.

“This is.” More certain now. Putting his foot down. “Do not race.”

“And why is it about you?”

This time, in the quiet, he wonders if he’s pushed too far.

Until Valentino says, “Marc,” on a breath, like he’s pressing hard enough to draw blood. Like he’s feeling Marc for the first time without wanting to rip him out of his skin.

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Parrot finds out Wifies doesn't know how to dance, and tries to teach him a few moves.

Notes: we're ignoring our dads' divorce <3 a billion years ago i posted this, and it came back to me and i got a little inspired. speed written in the span of about 4 hours between loads of laundry so it's super unpolished!!! feel free to lmk any major SPAG errors :) just a fun lil romp! divider

Wordcount: 1,286

It comes up on a random Wednesday afternoon. They're chopping down a tall spruce tree and Wifies is in charge of swapping out their jukebox’s music discs when they end, because Parrot is way too picky. He's just put a new one in— otherside, a recent snatch from an Ancient City run they did— when Parrot hops off the top of the half-chopped tree and lands next to him, wings aflutter. He's already dancing along on the way down and it makes Wifies laugh.

“I like this one!” Parrot says with a wide grin. “Don't laugh at me!”

“I'm not laughing at you,” Wifies defends, pulling his axe out of his inventory. “You can stay here and dance like a bum while I chop, if you'd like.”

“Why don't you dance with me instead,” Parrot is doing a two-step already as he reaches out for Wifies's free hand.

“Nah, I don't know how to dance.”

“What!”

This is probably one of the least strange things Wifies has ever said to Parrot, but Parrot has stopped dancing in shock.

“You don't know how to dance?” Parrot echoes. “What!”

“I just don't!”

Wifies tries to shake Parrot off but Parrot doesn't let go, instead tugging him closer.

“It's not hard,” Parrot says, getting that stubborn glint in his eyes that assures that Wifies won't be getting away from him. “C’mon, I'll teach you.”

Wifies groans but stores his axe again and turns to face Parrot. Parrot grins, earwings fluttering in pleasure as he takes both of Wifies’s hands hostage.

“Okay, we’ll start with something easy.”

Otherside is whimsical and simple in it’s rhythms, and Wifies has no problem keeping track of the beats. The issue, it turns out, is that knowing the beat and moving to the beat are two different skills. He and Parrot focus on just his feet, restarting the disc over and over, and Wifies keeps stumbling over Parrot. Parrot’s grip on his hand has saved him so many times that Wifies is red in the face with embarrassment.

“Okay, let’s try something different,” Parrot says. Wifies is biting his lip too hard. “This isn’t a good song to start dancing to anyway.”

Wifies isn’t sure that he’s being honest about that, but whatever will end this mortifying ordeal is fine by him. Parrot pulls out otherside and begins fiddling with the jukebox before popping in a new disc. Creator begins, but never descends into its full instrumentation.

“Is that a music box disc?” Wifies ask.

“Yup, and we’re going to learn to waltz to it,” Parrot says, pulling Wifies close again. “I’ll lead until you can do it. It’s really simple.”

“Maybe I’m just hopeless,” Wifies sighs out, but he lets Parrot maneuver him around regardless.

“You’re not hopeless,” Parrot says as he puts Wifies’s right hand on his shoulder. “You’re learning a new skill. I didn’t approach teaching you the right way.”

Parrot nudges Wifies closer by putting his left hand on Wifies’s scapula, and then takes his other hand in a loose tangle. Wifies mirrors his posture, adjusting his stance so that they’re toe to toe. The disc has already looped twice in the time they’ve taken to set up.

“Okay, watch our feet.”

Wifies does. He watches and listens with his usual precision and consideration, Parrot whispering “one, two, three, turn,” over and over, and Wifies follows. It’s still a struggle, but he steps on Parrot’s toes less.

“You need to relax,” Parrot says, breaking Wifies’s focus. He stumbles, and they stop. “You’re way too tense. You’ve gotta feel the music, not try to strangle it.”

“Ha ha,” Wifies looks up and glares at Parrot in the dying sunlight, but Parrot just smiles. “What does feel the music even mean?”

“What are you so red for?” Parrot teases, and Wifies pinches his cheek for it. “Ouch, ouch, okay! Just, you gotta feel the music, c’mon.”

Parrot starts up again, and Wifies follows, but instead of counting, Parrot hums along with the music. The rises and falls sound so much fuller coming from Parrot’s chest, just an inch away from Wifies’s own. He finds himself humming too, breathy and quiet, trying to feel whatever it is Parrot wants him to feel.

“There,” Parrot murmurs. “There you go. Now try to look at me.”

That’s a tall ask. It’s a very, very tall ask. But Wifies looks up and meets Parrot eye to eye. His left foot drags a little behind, his right too quick, but Parrot is smiling with so much joy that Wifies thinks it’s probably okay if he scuffs Parrot’s boots a bit. Parrot is a good lead, adjusting Wifies’s position with his left hand and holding him tight with his right, while being insistent enough to stop him from falling but never restrictive enough to frustrate.

It’s what saves them both from a nasty fall. In the low light of their scattered torches and a waning moon, they seem to have spiraled too far out from their cleared out space and their legs tangle in a copse of ferns. With a whirl and a few hard flaps of his wings, Parrot keeps them from falling ass first into the dirt; it’s the kind of kinesthetic thinking Wifies has never had, but that Parrot has always excelled in. Watching Parrot fight isn’t all that different from dancing with him.

“Whoa,” Wifies says, stilling for a moment to shake off the little shot of adrenaline. “That was dangerous.”

“Nah, we’re fine,” Parrot says, pulling him close again. “You were doing well.”

“I didn’t think you liked dancing this much,” Wifies tries to frown but finds the expression melting away immediately.

They must have spun a hundred times around the jukebox, but Parrot looks as content as he did at the start. The cool night air has nipped his nose pink and his feet have got to hurt after everything they’ve been through, yet there’s no discomfort anywhere on his face.

“I don’t know many avians to dance with. It’s nice to dance with someone.”

Their waltz starts over. Wifies has almost entirely tuned the jukebox out at this point, and talking while dancing seems a little too advanced for him. He tries anyway.

“Must be boring to dance with me,” he picks each word carefully, ignoring how breathless he sounds. He’s not tired, but anxiety over messing up muddles his chest. “Wingless and all.”

“Never,” Parrot says. “Anything with you is good. The only bad part is I can’t get you out of your head for long enough to actually enjoy it.”

Wifies snorts and stumbles, and Parrot bears his weight with a chuckle. They slow down, out of sync with Creator but in sync with each other still.

“We’ll try to get you into it next time,” Parrot says, squeezing Wifies’s hand. “Teach you a few new steps.”

“You should start wearing steel toed boots,” Wifies feels his anxiety unravel slowly.

“Maybe. But you’re really not that bad.”

“You’ve been compensating for my mistakes.”

“That’s what dance partners are supposed to do,” Parrot draws them into a proper stop. “It’s not about getting it perfect, it’s about feeling good.”

Parrot drops his arm from Wifies’s shoulder and steps back. Wifies mirrors him, their fingers still intertwined. Parrot’s bows, spreading and tipping his wings forward in an impressive, wide display of colored feathers. Wifies doesn’t have any feathers to preen, but he still bows in turn once Parrot stands.

“Thank you for teaching me,” Wifies says.

“Thank you for dancing with me.”

Wifies still isn’t sure that there’s any hope for him when it comes to dancing, but it won’t be a problem as long as Parrot enjoys indulging him anyway.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷:Blue lock au where Y/n got invited to join the Blue Lock program as a player. She crossdresses as a boy and is friends with Reo and Nagi (they don't know she is a girl). I didn't change much abt Y/n's appearance, except that I made her around 5'10" tall and that she has a similar hairstyle to Chigiri's (the color is up to you, tho)

Warnings: None in particular. Reader uses she/her when narrating, otherwise the characters use he/him for Y/n. Requests are open for this AU.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'Blue Lock... so this will be my new escape...' (Y/n) gulped as she looked at the building in front of herself. She saw a lot of people, well known high school players enter the place, making her nervous over the whole idea. Sure, she was excited over finally leaving her home, her adoptive parents for a while, but she was just entering a bigger hell than she already left. Now, some might be confused what a girl was doing at Blue Lock? A project meant for the best football players in Japanese high schools. For male football players. Well, the question was pretty easy to answer, kinda. (Y/n) was adopted at a pretty young age into a somewhat well-off family, but the life she had wasn't the best. Her parents always wanted to have only boys, and while they had 2 biological sons, they didn't want to have a daughter.

'The only reason we adopted you was because I was indebted to your father.' She shuddered as she remembered her adopted father's words. (Y/n) knew they didn't want her, so she did her best to survive the household till she can be free. One of the ways was giving into her parents' demands on changing her personality and appearance to suit a stereotypical guy. (Y/n) didn't want that, at all, but for now she had to be someone she wasn't.

'At least they let me grow out my hair... and they allowed me to leave to this football camp.' She thought, touching a few strands of her (h/c) hair.

"Hey! Earth to (Y/n), are you alright?" She jumped, looking over at her teammates, Nagi and Reo. The two looked at her in worry for a moment, which caused her to smile and nod her head.

"I am fine! Don't worry... Just a little nervous." She thought as Reo grabbed her hand and pulled her into the building while Nagi followed after them.

"Don't be. All three of us are highly ranked football players, I am sure this thing will be a walk in the park for us." Reo laughed.

"Yeah, you worry too much." Nagi yawned as they got into the main hall where the other players were. (Y/n) recognized some from her previous matches, and some were unfamiliar.

'Oh... that Kira guy was invited here too? Figures, he was a good opponent back then...' She thought, recognizing the white haired boy. She then turned her attention to another guy standing next to Kira, they seemed pretty close.

'Who is he? I never saw him before...' (Y/n) thought while observing the blue-eyed boy.

'That sprout is cute tho.' She smiled, noticing the few strands of hair that were sticking out.

"Who are you looking at? Come on, we need to catch up to Reo." Nagi ground as he tugged on the pants of her uniform.

"H-huh? Nobody! Let's hurry up." She said, glancing a few more times at the unknown boy.

They soon reached Reo, only for him to scold the duo for getting lost.

"Congratulations, you unpolished lumps of talent." The trio froze for a moment and then looked at the stage, only to find a guy with bowl-cut black hair and glasses looking at all of them.

"Who is he?" (Y/n) muttered.

"Dunno." Nagi shrugged.

"What did he just call us?" Reo wondered.

"According to my personal judgment the 300 of you are the best strikers under 18. My name is Jinpachi Ego and I was hired to give Japan a World Cup victory." Everyone kept silent as (Y/n) stared at Ego in shock.

'World Cup victory? Japan can't qualify for semi-finals, what does he mean by victory?' She thought skeptically.

"I'll say this plainly. One thing is needed for Japanese soccer to become the best in the world: the birth of a revolutionary striker. From you 300 players gathered here today, I will forge the best striker in the world through a certain project."

Ego continued his speech, not giving anyone time to digest anything.

"What a bore." Nagi groaned, earning a kick to his leg by (Y/n).

"Shh." She warned, then looked back at Ego.

"All of them revolutionary strikers!! Their extraordinary egoism is the one thing Japan’s football lacks. You will not become the greatest strikers in the world, unless you have the ego to match. My purpose here, is to create such a player in Japan."

'Egoism? Shouldn't football be treated as a team sport? What good does it bring to act like that on the field?' (Y/n) raised her eyebrow, tuning out whatever Reo and Nagi were saying.

As Ego kept on talking, (Y/n) was getting lost in her thoughts.

'So we are basically training for our national team now... Getting out of one hellhole into another, but at least here... at least here I feel a little bit more like myself, as odd as it sounds. While I can't tell to anyone I am not a guy, at least I can play the sport that always saved me from going insane.' (Y/n) thought, looking back at the crowd as Ego finished his speech. (Y/n) listened as he talked about reaching the goal he set up for them, and if the players who were gathered had what it takes to become a striker. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the boy from before rush to a open door, and something struck her. She wasn't sure what it was, but something about him and the look he held in his eyes made her hypnotized, and she quickly ran after him.

'Who are you? And what's up with you?' She sprinted faster after him, ignoring Reo and Nagi's calls, both desperate to catch up with her.

"Huh? Thank you... so you said I am in Team X, Teieri-san?"  (Y/n) asked the woman, who smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, that's just down the corridor. I will keep your phone and other items safe while you are at our facility." (Y/n) thanked the woman and started walking down the hallway, looking at all the rooms in curiosity.

'Probably the storages...' She thought.

'This place is like a prison, but I can welcome it. I wonder how I will keep myself hidden now... now that I have to share a room and everything with some dudes.' She cringed and sighed, then slowly walked into Team X's room. Inside were, as expected a bunch of other guys, some changing, some just talking.

'Oh brother....' She thought, looking to the side.

"Ah? You are our other teammate?" A guy with brownish hair asked.

"Y-yes! (L/n) (Y/n) is my name." She said in a little bit deeper voice.

"(Y/n)? Isn't that a girl's name?" Another guy asked while walking up to the duo.

"My parents have a thing for feminine names." She answered with the same lie she's been using for years.

"Wait... (Y/n)... (L/n) (Y/n)? Hakuho's eagle?"

"What?" (Y/n) she raised her eyebrow as a blonde approached them.

"You are known as a beast with those precise shots. I should have expected someone like you being here."

"Ah... thanks." (Y/n) answered, unsure what was going on at this point. By now a group has been formed around her and the guys started asking her different questions, until someone cleared his throat.

"Can you donkeys shut up?"

(Y/n) tensed up and looked at a pair of red eyes staring directly at her.

'Ahhh!! Scary!' She thought.

"Sorry, Barou." A few sighed out as the boy and (Y/n) had a stare down.

"Barou... I know you. You are that guy from Akudo Academy. We played against you at the quarterfinals." (Y/n) recalled, remembering the sheer force he used back then.

"So what about it?" The boy asked, obviously annoyed that she brought that up. Some of the teammates backed away, scared of a possible infight.

"Nothing-"

"I see you unpolished lumps have all found your room." The group looked at the monitor, only to find Ego staring down at them.

"Good, now it's time for the first elimination round."

"What?" (Y/n) and Barou asked at the same time.

"Every team in our 5 buildings is playing a game of tag, in a football way. You will be given a football, the person you hit with it will be it, and will chase someone else." Ego started explaining as a football fell from the ceiling, landing between Barou and (Y/n). The duo glanced at the item and then at each other.

"You are given 2 minutes. The person who stays it when the time runs out, is eliminated from Blue Lock..." The room fell into a tense silence.

"And, subsequently they are losing the opportunity to ever play for Japan."

"Haaa?!" Barou and (Y/n) yelled in shock.

"That's rediculous, how is a game of tag going to help here?" Barou wondered.

"Especially if you only give us 2 minutes."

"2 minutes is the most a player spends in the possession of the ball during a game. Now hurry up. On your sleeves you will see your current rankings, the one with the lowest is the 1st it."

(Y/n) quickly went to look at hers and scanned the tag.

"Currently the highest ranked one here is (L/n) (Y/n), at 252."

"How does this ranking even work?" She wondered to herself as the screen flashed the name of the first it. She looked at the boy and felt a little sad, he looked pretty meek.

"Donkey." Barou started, hitting (Y/n)'s head.

"Ow! What? And did you just call me a donkey?" She asked in disbelief.

"Don't get too distracted, can't have you eliminated this soon." Barou warned, confusing the girl a little.

"What? Why would you care?"

"Because I still need to prove to you that I am far better than you are."

The girl sweatdropped as the siren signaled the start, causing everyone to disparage across the room. She watched as the boy nervously looked around before his eyes fell on her.

'Shit.' She thought, dodging the ball that came flying to her.

"Huh? Why aren't you kicking back? You are the higher rank here." Barou questioned, annoyed at her move.

"What? The goal here is not to be it!" She watched as the ball bounced off the wall and back to the boy, who seemed more and more determined to get her instead of someone else.

'I can't be eliminated.... I don't want to go back home...' (Y/n) thought, glaring back at him.

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission. 

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

When Keith woke, it was dark outside. A scarred face was looming over his, and he bit back a scream, hand flying for his knife on reflex. 

“Peace, Paladin,” said Ares, holding up a hand. “I startled you. I did not mean to. It’s time for the feast. 

Keith slumped. His heart slowed from its jackrabbit pace. “Yeah. Yeah, man, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

His host nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Keith took one minute to calm himself, closing his eyes and counting his breaths. Once sixty seconds passed, he stood, glancing down at his armour. 

That was…fine, right?

They always wore their armour to diplomacy missions. Well, mostly because Keith threw a massive hissy fit the second Coran attempted to force him into the worst, most restrictive suit he’d ever seen. His armour was battered, unpolished, and honestly kind of rank, but it wasn’t like he had many other options. He held out his helmet, inspecting himself in the reflection of his visor.

Shiro would tell him to brush his hair.

Too bad he didn’t have a hairbrush. 

He walked out of his room, shrugging. His host was waiting for him by the small hearth in the middle of the house, standing as Keith approached. 

“Shall we make our leave?”

“Sure.”

He followed his host back out of the little house. They walk in silence. Keith’s feet begin to hurt by the five minute mark – he has no idea how long he slept, but it was not long enough, and exhaustion still pulled at his frame. 

Dryope had mentioned food, though. And something like a party, but one lucky thing about Ares – he doesn’t seem to be much of a partier, either, so hopefully Keith could ditch that bright and early and go right back to sleep. 

They walked along the same hills Keith’s host had led them down earlier, only this time they were going up, so it was worse. Thankfully, though, the walk was just barely shorter – they weren’t walking back to the beach, but to the hearth, the big fire pit Keith noticed walking in. All the houses they passed were empty, not even a light by the window.

“Is everyone at the – party, thing, whatever?” Keith panted.

Ares eyed him briefly, not pausing his stride. “Look for yourself.”

They crested the top of the hill, and Keith’s jaw dropped. 

The hearth was blazing. The flame burned so brightly and hugely that Keith was half-convinced it was out of control. Surrounding it in hundreds of chattering groups was every single Aegian, tall and wide and small, smiling and laughing. As he watched, an Aegian called something in a language Keith couldn’t understand, and immediately dozens of the tree-warriors rushed up to join hands in a big ring around the fire, twirling and dancing as the watching Aegians chanted and sang. 

Keith’s first thought was, Aren’t these guys made of wood?

His second thought was, This looks like a hippie commune. Time to ditch.

Unfortunately Ares caught him before he could go right back the way they can, spinning him around and shoving him down the hill.

“Real hospitable,” Keith grumbled.

His host seemed, as much as such a scary person could look, amused. “On you go, Paladin.”

Keith stomped on. He probably could take Ares in a fight, at least normally, but he was exhausted and injured and weak. Plus, if he was the reason behind yet another failed diplomatic mission, Lance would gleefully hold it over his head for weeks, and Shiro would be disappointed if Keith finally killed him. Plus, Allura would be upset with him, and having Allura upset with you kind of feels like taking a kitten that loves and trusts you and drop kicking it into the sun. Very quickly, you realise that you are the scum of the Earth and the worst person alive. It’s generally just something you should avoid.

As he trudged down the hill, he quickly recognised three familiar suits of armour. They were kind of hard to miss – even as scuffed as they were, they glinted in the light of the massive fire, shining like a bunch of precious stones. Pidge, sulking somewhere near a table of desserts; Hunk, chatting with his host; and Shiro, speaking with the Aegian leader like the tryhard little teacher’s pet he was. Coran stuck out, too, in his bright blue Altean uniform that was somehow pristine even though Keith watched him get flung at a wall and shocked by a bare wire from the broken control centre back on the dead castle. 

All the Aegians wore some kind of bedsheet, or their Tinkerbell clothes. Interestingly, the dryads were not the only Aegians present – there were others who looked a little more human, although they had plenty of strange features that reminded Keith they were not. A group of laughing girls looked like they were made from the bottom of a pool in the sunlight, skin shifting with dappled light. Several guys walked around with half a donkey hanging out of their drawers. Keith spotted some honest-to-God centaurs. One girl appeared to be made out of blowing, spinning wind. 

Hundreds of eyes seemed to follow Keith as he joined the crowd, glancing at him and then back at their friends, whispering to themselves. Keith shrunk into himself, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes – no one looked mad, or angry, or cruel, but no one looked exactly welcoming, either. Ares had disappeared at some point, not that he was what Keith would consider a friendly face. 

Keith needed to find someone he knew, stat. 

His first instinct was Pidge – the two of them usually slunked in some corner together whenever they were forced (often at gunpoint, thanks, Lance) to some stupid party. They had a running game called How Many People Can We Convince That Barking Is A Polite Human Greeting Before Shiro Finds Out. So far their score was 135-149, Pidge in the lead. (Keith very much intended to catch up.) But before he could make it over to where she was hiding, a group of water-girls descended upon her like a pack of piranhas, giggling and shouting something about braiding and eye makeup. Keith decided he would rather chew off his right hand than put himself anywhere near that, and did an abrupt 180 in search of Hunk.

Unfortunately, the big guy was still preoccupied. His host – Elijah (or something, Keith would be reminded of his real name eventually) – was showing him some kind of metal box that opened to a bunch of intricately placed gears and bobbles and wires. Hunk was staring at it like the Holy Grail. Not even Keith’s best pleading eyes and sad orphan story would convince him to babysit Keith and glare at anyone who attempted to socialise. Another dead end.

Keith sighed. That really only left –

“Hey, squirt!”

Keith went bright red, cringing with his whole entire body. He loved his brother, he really, truly did, but Shiro was as out of depth as he was at stuff like this and tended to overcompensate by being affectionate. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except he had a bad case of Foot In Mouth Disease and knew Keith at his most embarrassing early teenage emo. 

So.

“Hey, Shiro,” he said stiffly, trying not to die inside as the man pressed a smacking kiss right in the centre of his forehead.

A tall, handsome guy somewhere to their left raised his eyebrows, smiling with amusement. Keith thought he could die. Sometimes, he thought his brother was secretly a forty-six year old suburban mom of three.

“We missed you!” cried his embarrassing brother. He was so genuine about it, it was hard not to smile back at him. “You took so long getting here!”

“My host’s place is at the farthest corner of the city,” Keith explained. “Had to hike here. Thought I was gonna bite it by mile six.”

Shiro snorted. “Drama queen.”

“Yeah, yeah. You try hiking after getting shaken around like a bobblehead. I bet your place is, like, twenty feet away from here.”

“Pretty much,” Shiro agreed, smile turning into more of a smirk. He attempted to dig his knuckles into Keith’s skull, but Keith was well used to his brand of crap and squirmed away at the last second. “Akeso’s sorta the main healer around here – at least I think? They’re not much of a talker – so they live in this building that’s attached to the infirmary. One of the big buildings in the inner circle.”

He pointed to one of the more rectangular buildings Keith had seen on the way in, with a much smaller, rounder building attached to it like one of those suction fish on a shark. It was hard to make out many details in the dark, fire’s light only able to stretch so far, but it looked pretty infirmary-ish.

“Hunk’s staying near the forges. He loves it, you should talk to him about it. He’s all cute and excited, you know that look he gets. Elatreus is impressed with him, practically made him an assistant.”

Elatreus! That’s the host’s name. And Keith absolutely knew what look Shiro’s talking about – the wide brown eyes, clasped hands, talking a mile a minute. He smiled softly. Nothing better for the soul like watching an ecstatic Hunk. 

“That’s good. Glad he’s happy.” 

“Yep. And Pidge is in a regular house like you, little more in-city. Next to some kind of trap shop? I don’t totally get it. Apparently Dysnomia needs a lot of supplies. Pidge was being all sketch about it.”

“That’s not super reassuring.”

“It is not!” Shiro agreed. He led Keith to one of the many tables laid out, absolutely covered in food. Keith realised he was ravenous, piling up a plate at least a foot high with meats and breads and foods he couldn’t even identify, but that smelt positively godly. At Shiro’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and selected a single vegetable. 

“Make sure you toss some in the fire,” Shiro advised.

Keith squinted at him. “I’m…not gonna do that, thanks.”

“No, no, you have to.”

He pointed to the edge of the fire, where, sure enough, some Aegians were scraping the edge of their plates into the flames.

Keith wrinkled his nose. “The hell are they burning their food for? What a waste!”

Shiro shrugged, stepping into the line. “Akeso said it’s an old tradition, something that their ancestors felt protected them and gave them good will and peace. No one really wants to mess with that mojo, so. Portion of the food is sacrificed.”

Keith would be less pressed about it if the food didn’t look and smell so good. Scraping perfectly good food into fire felt like spending hours polishing a sword only to scratch it three seconds later – effort for no reason. When it was their turn, though, Keith did as the custom dictated. He’d learned enough about questioning weird traditions. 

He held eye contact with Shiro and flicked his one vegetable into the flames. Delightfully, his brother’s eye twitched, like he was considering shoving Keith into them. Suddenly, this custom was Keith’s favourite he’d ever been forced to partake in. 

By the time they finally sat somewhere to eat, Keith was so hungry he was ready to eat his fingers along with the food. He inhaled his food for a good five or six minutes, ignoring Shiro’s attempts first at conversation, then at slowing him down. 

“Christ, kid,” he said, voice tinged with either horror or awe. Maybe both. “Eating like I never fed you in your life.”

“You haven’t,” Keith replied around a rib of some kind. “Adam fed me. You made ash of everything you touched.”

Shiro’s expression soured. He poked sullenly at some kind of leaf. (Serves him right for trying to be some kinda health freak now that he’s in charge. Keith once watched him eat an entire Costco sheet cake at three in the morning, and that had been his first and only meal of the day. Keith enjoyed bringing it up every time Shiro preached about the benefits of salad and watching him just start screeching to drown Keith out. Good times.) 

“I didn’t turn everything to ash, you ungrateful brat. I made muffins that one time!”

You microwaved an already cooked muffin, Keith thought, wisely choosing to eat some kind of rice dish instead of bringing it up. And it tasted like erasers afterr. So.

“Sure, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded, satisfied. He picked up the leaf, sprinkled with some…orange thing, maybe, Keith couldn’t tell exactly, and took a delicate bite. He looked less satisfied.

“So,” he said, setting down his plate like he was looking for an excuse not to eat it. He looked at Keith expectantly. “You must want an update on Allura.”

Keith blinked. “Oh, shoot, yeah. I didn’t see her. She good?”

“Yeah, from what we can tell. When we got to the infirmary, Akeso stitched up my knee, then we –”

“You had a knee injury?” Keith interrupted. “You should have said something!”

Shiro smiled gently. “I got it treated, dork.” He bumped their shoulders together, trying to ease Keith’s upset expression. “I’m fine, okay? If Akeso didn’t bring it up, I would have. Promise. It wasn’t too bad, anyway, I swear.”

Keith frowned harder. He had noticed Shiro shifting slightly when they were first confronted by Dryope and her army, but Shiro had walked away without limping, so he’d allowed himself to stop worrying. A stupid mistake, and one he should know better than making. He knows his stupidly self-sacrificial brother. 

“Keith, seriously,” Shiro assured. He leaned down, unlatching his thigh and knee braces, then pulled back the rip in his undersuit. Keith wasn’t comforted by the size of the rip – nor the placement of it – but the wound didn’t look too bad, and was stitched neatly. Some kind of salve was spread all over it, under the clear wound dressing. As he watched, the wound seemed to contract, shrinking ever so slightly.

“Healing magic,” Shiro explained, putting his armour back. He patted Keith’s shoulder. “Akeso is super practiced at it. They stitched me up but warned that overdoing magic healing is as bad as cheating death, so it’ll still take a couple weeks to heal fully. Just won’t hurt so bad and might heal a little faster than with just stitches.”

“That why Allura is still out?” Keith clarified, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders. Shiro looked relieved. “No speedy magic?”

Shiro nodded. “Exactly. After Akeso stitched me up we went to go visit Rhea, check on Allura. She’s tucked in this massive bed-nest thing, snoring away. She’s fine. Just super drained and needs all the rest she can. She’s in good hands.”

Relief punches out of Keith like a physical force. It’s one thing if his friends are injured, a whole other if they’re unconscious – but with Shiro’s assurance as well as Coran’s confidence earlier, he can relax. The two of them can read people like no one else on the ship – except maybe Lance. She’ll be fine.

“Speaking of Lance,” Keith said.

“No one brought up Lance except your own brain,” Shiro responded patiently. That infernal smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

Keith went red, barrelling right on. “Where is he? This stuff is right up his alley, I figured he’d be out twirling until he passes out in the punch or something.”

Shiro frowned, looking at him funny. “He is? He’s been over –”

Just then, the music that had been playing in the background changed – there was a collective inhale, then all the instruments played something at once. Keith didn’t know much about music, but the something felt intentional, deeply so. A song was beginning, rather than endless background music.

Excited murmuring moved in waves throughout the gathered Aegians. People started shifting. High above everything else, loud and excited, rang a disbelieving laugh – a very familiar laugh.

Keith whipped his head up, roll dropping from his hand and bouncing into the dirt. At the edge of the crowd, lit softly by the orange golden flames, was Lance – but it was no wonder Keith had missed him before. He wasn’t wearing his armour.

He was wearing a dress!

Well, not really a dress. One of those ancient Greek toga things, that looks like a droopy bedsheet. Keith had noticed it on several – almost all, in fact – of the Aegians; a draped, white garment, cinched in the waist, pinned at the shoulders. It hadn’t looked anything special on them. 

Lance, though, wore it like it had been made for him. Maybe it had. Most Aegians wore the toga-thing pinned at both shoulders, but Lance’s was only gathered at one, the rest of it falling artfully on his chest, looking dangerously like it was about to fall off. The cinched golden rope acting as a belt made his waist look downright tiny, like someone could pick him up around his middle and throw him, or something. It wasn’t crazy short, or anything, but Lance surely didn’t wear it down to his toes, like some others did. A pair of simple brown sandals wrapped all the way up his calves. 

There were actual freaking laurels in his hair, along with what Keith could only assume were gold threads, wrapped around a few tiny, careful braids. A golden bracelet wrapped around his bicep, contrasting with his many Earth-made bracelets and anklets, and his plastic blue Moana watch that he never took off. 

“He looks ridiculous!” Keith cried. 

Shiro tried poorly not to laugh. “I think he looks nice!”

“He looks like a freaking Roman statue!”

The music started to swell, and Lance reached out to grab an offered hand, and suddenly Keith’s blood went cold. 

“What is he doing all over Lance,” he hissed.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “His…host?” 

“Hosting immoral thoughts, maybe!” Keith protested. Shiro choked on his drink. “Look at his damn hand! Gripping Lance’s waist like there’s a magnet involved! What’s he want, to pick Lance up like a prize and show him around, or something? What a creep!”

But Lance wasn’t scowling, or even using his polite I-hate-you-and-can’t-wait-to-talk-crap-about-you-to-my-friends smile. He was just smiling, and concentrating hard on his feet, wrapping his own hands all over Mr. Creep. As the music got more complicated, they started dancing. 

“What’s your deal with Peithos?” Shiro questioned. “What’s he –”

Keith ignored him. “And they have some kinda dance prepared? He’s supposed to be helping Lance recover, not teaching him a dance! How long have we been here for?”

Shiro finally sighed, giving up on his questioning. He watched the dancing duo, although with significantly less (zero) animosity than Keith. 

“‘Bout ten hours? Give or take.”

“Ten ho – ten hours,” Keith said, stumbling over his words. He tore his eyes away and stared at his brother, alarmed. “We’ve been here ten whole hours? I thought it was, like, three!”

Shiro nodded, taking a long sip out of his cup. “Yep. Surprised the heck outta me, too. Went for a nap after checking on Allura, and boom, sun’s down, Akeso’s waking me up, and my leg hardly hurts anymore. Exhausted sleep is sleep, man, I feel you. Pidge, Hunk, and Coran knocked out, too. Only Lance stayed up. That’s why he’s not in armour. And why he knows this dance, apparently.” He nudged Keith’s shoulder, expression suddenly much more solemn. “You know how he is with sleep.”

Keith softened. He turned back to the blue paladin with a sigh, watching the half-Aegian twirl him around. The music got faster and faster and the man grabbed Lance around the waist and lifted him, twirling them both like it was easy as pie. Lance threw his head back and laughed, cheeks flushed and nose squinted like it does when he’s really laughing. 

“Yeah, I know. Still, though. I don’t trust that guy. Too friendly. And Lance is too comfortable.”

“That’s fair.” Shiro was staring at him, too. “I don’t really trust many people here, actually. I think Rhea is trustworthy. And Elatreus. The other people, I can’t say yet. But Dryope…”

He turned to glance at the leader, who watched the festivities over the rim of an ornate glass. She sat on a carved rock, her father next to her. The rock-seat to her right was left empty. Keith could guess who it was for. 

“There’s something they’re not telling us,” Keith finished, nodding. “Agreed.”

He turned back to look at Lance and Peithos. The song had ended, but they were still standing close to the fire, bent close. Lance was gesturing like crazy, smile lighting up his face. Peithos was intently watching his every move. 

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Shiro promised. His smile was small and reassuring. Keith glanced at the half-Aegian, then back at his brother, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

After the weird dance, the party started to die down. People slowly started to head out, first in singles, then in couples, then in large swathes. Pidge was one of the first to make her getaway. Keith looked around for his host, but couldn’t manage to land his eyes on him. He hoped he hadn’t already left – he had no clue how to get back to his guest room in the dark, and wasn’t super pumped about sleeping on the ground if it came to that. 

“You know where the house is?” Keith overheard Peithos murmur, so close to Lance there wasn’t a place they weren’t touching. 

Lance grinned up at him. “Yep! I’ll meet you there, don’t worry about me. Go do what you need to do.”

The half-Aegian smiled gratefully at him, then rushed off.

Some host, Keith thought bitterly.

His glare was apparently pretty pungent, because now that Lance’s distraction was gone, he looked over quickly. He brightened, jogging over.

“Keith! Hey! I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” muttered Keith sullenly.

“I hope you –” Lance frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Keith repeated, mocking. He rolled his eyes. Unfortunately he still managed to notice the expression on Lance’s face – wounded, not mad. He faltered. 

That wasn’t how their arguments were supposed to go. “You know what it means,” he insisted, but it sounded unconfident even to his own ears.

“I really, really don’t. I looked for you earlier, I couldn’t find you when everyone else –”

“You looked?” Keith asked incredulously. “I couldn’t’ve pried your eyes away from Tall, Dark, and Handsome if I plucked them out of your head!”

Lance’s already-present flush exploded out of control, so bright Keith could see it even in the dying embers of the hearth. “I wasn’t – he’s not – you’re not – what are you talking about!” he finally managed, tripping over his words in a way he usually didn’t. “Peithos and I were just – were just – we were only dancing! He taught me the Spring Dance, earlier, when he was showing – showing – me the wildflower fields, and –”

Keith narrowed his eyes. He realised for the first time that Lance was swaying, slightly, and even as he talked himself out of his embarrassment, the red didn’t totally fade from his face, staying high on his cheeks. 

“– I don’t know what your problem is, I swear, every time I have fun you live to ruin it. Gods, can’t I even have – have – have one thing, I just –”

He kept tripping over his words, like his tongue wasn’t working with him. Keith frowned harder.

“Lance, are you – drunk?”

“What? No!”

That Lance said clearly. He whirled on Keith with a new layer of clarity in his eyes, dark like pits and absolutely flashing in fury. 

“You think,” he seethed, stepping forward, “that I am so freaking irresponsible, so absolutely stupid and idiotic, that I would get intoxi – intoxish – intoxicat –”

He couldn’t even say the words. Keith stared at him in alarm, because he raised a good point – Lance liked to pretend, but he really wasn’t irresponsible like that. Keith had never heard him swear. He went to bed at the same time every night. As far as he knew, he’d never actually touched a drop of alcohol in his life – it would be out of character for him to get wasted at a diplomatic mission, late at night, when they were separated and wary. 

Something was not right.

“Lance, I think you should maybe –”

“Gods, you ruin – you ruin everything.” Lance blinked, hard, then glared at Keith, shoving off the steadying hand Keith had placed on his elbow and stumbling backwards. He held his gaze for several moments, absolutely glowering, and then – to Keith’s great horror – his brown eyes watered. Tears built up faster than he could wipe them away, tracing a line down his cheek. Keith staggered backwards.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said, and ran off. 

Keith watched him go, aftertaste of the delicious food turning sour in his mouth.

— — —

all art by @jiveyuncle!!

next

[ticklystuff]

Day 12: Fiction

a/n: ler!hu tao, lee!furina — from my own personal tickletober list!

———

"Must we really do this?"

"Of course! New experiences will only help to improve your creative output!"

Furina couldn't disagree with that sentiment, she had to admit, as her own set of experiences was quite lacking, yet even this felt a tad.. extreme. Her mouth forced itself into a hesitated smile as her eyes met with Director Hu's, feeling quite shrewd in the moment, her waist straddled snugly under the director's weight.

"I can just edit the script," she suggested with a nervous laugh. "The scene, it doesn't specifically need the tickling written in, you know?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Tao promptly shook her head, "you mustn't stifle yourself when met with impasse."

"B-But what I'm not even ticklish? Then how am I supposed to properly convey the scene? Better to just write it out, no?"

Behind her quivered voice, Furina's reasoning was sound; she, in fact, had never been tickled once in her life, nor has anyone ever attempted, and apparently, this was evident enough in her initial draft for her recent script, as Director Hu criticized the scene with comments like "The scene flows naturally up until this point," and "Why do you write laughter like that?" And as much as she looked up to her new friend, finding inspiration in her refined approach to Liyue poetry, Director Hu could certainly be the eccentric in her more unconventional methods when it came to her own writing.

"Then it'll only take a brief moment to find out," she brought her hands up wiggle her fingers in the air, flashing a wink in the process, "and besides, I think the scene would overall beneficial to revealing an extra layer to the characters. It would show your audience the level of trust the two have for each other in an intimate, yet playful display. It just needs a bit of fine-tuning."

"I.. suppose," Furina mumbled, still not keen on the idea.

"Okay, well, ready?"

"What?!" Furina's eyes widened to the nod Director Hu had given her. "I-I mean no, but, I guess?"

"Okay, then on three," Tao said, holding up her fingers to start the countdown. "One.."

Furina inhaled a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

"Two.."

Her eyes squeezed shut, expecting the worst.

"Three-"

"Waitwaitwaitwait!" Furina's cried frantically as she grabbed at Tao's hands, stopping her in the process.

"Aiya, I haven't even done anything yet!"

"I know, I know!" she breathed, shakiness behind each exhale. "I wasn't ready, but hold on... Okay, I think I'm alright."

Tao rolled her eyes and giggled, bringing her hand up once again. "Okay, on three," she started. "One.."

Furina inhaled a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

"Two.."

Her eyes squeezed shut, expecting the wor- "A-AgH!! You sahahaid on threhehehee!"

"You would've stopped me again!" Tao said pointedly, digging her fingers into Furina's torso. "And ooohhh, looks like you are ticklish!"

It didn't register in Furina's brain that she was actually being tickled in the moment; her focus immediately shifted to the foreign sensations shooting through her body to her brain and the amount of helpless laughter that she was somehow managing to produce. Tickling as a whole was strange to her as there should be no way someone's body should be reacting to such harmless movements and yet here she was, erratically wiggling about on the floor, unpolished noises flowing from mouth, her arms limp at her side, unable to process how she should go about handling the commotion inside her head. Strangely enough, though.. she didn't hate it.

"Wahahahait! Pause, pahahahause!"

And Director Hu did exactly that, removing her hands to give Furina the breather she needed to think, to process everything she felt in just those short seconds. "Well?" Tao asked, looking down at Furina. "That should suffice, no?"

Furina huffed for breath, face tinged with the slightest of pink, conflicted with her thoughts. "I... I think I need a little bit more. Just to make sure I really get things down."

The director's eyes seemingly brightened, a spark to her smile. "I'm happy to help!"

[bandnerdlevel43]

Don't Leave Me

Ravio x LU Legend (Ravioli)

Summary: Ravio decides to tidy up their house a bit. Legend disappears to his room, as per usual, to do Goddess knows what. Ravio thinks nothing of it, until he hears the tell-tale sounds of his partner having a breakdown.

Word count: 1,650

Warnings: Grief, Legend has Koholint Trauma, hurt/comfort (but mostly fluff), writer projects her low self-esteem onto Ravio (shhhh it’s fine don’t worry about it), baby’s first time writing gay men

A/N: Hello, Ravioli fandom! Uhhh this is my first time posting my writing (ignore the cringefics I wrote on Wattpad when I was twelve coughs awkwardly), so any positive reinforcement/constructive criticism is not only welcome but encouraged! Also, not only is this my first time writing this sort of content, I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. If I get something wrong, please tell me.

I was just kinda in the mood for these two when I realized I’ve already read all the content. Basically I had the “fine I’ll do it myself” moment that all writers have at some point. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Love you all!

----

Ravio hummed contently, arranging the dishes in a neat pile on the counter. He ignored the various crumbs scattered across it. Instead, he picked up the duster, reached in the cabinet, and swept up the film of particles. He poked it into a corner, and in response, received a small tink. Ravio tilted his head curiously and delicately brushed the object into view. It was another ring- not cursed, thankfully, but horrifyingly unpolished. Ravio reached in to pocket the trinket that had gone so long without care, and continued his chore with a cheery whistle.

But what was that? A sharp rustling sound, followed by… coughing, perhaps? Ravio’s ears pricked; he paused. Sheerow, playing around in some empty boxes? Ravio's brow furrowed. No, the sounds were human in origin. His eyes widened when a soft whimper reached his ears. Legend!

Ravio dropped the duster. He scrambled out of the kitchen and down by the hallway, skidding to a stop by the closed door to their shared room. He knocked timidly, calling out, “Mister Hero?”

No response. 

“...Link, please. You know I'll come in even if you don't answer.”

The silence only made Ravio more scared. He would take a “Get lost, Ravio” or a “Leave me alone, Idiot” over this. This quiet meant his Link was drowning in some way Ravio was still struggling to understand, let alone help heal, no matter how desperately he wished he could. 

He opened the door anyway. 

Ravio peeked inside, and almost immediately his heart sank. Legend was in the middle of the room, hunched over something that Ravio couldn't see. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs. It was always a stab in the gut for Ravio, to see him like this. It hurt, but he had to ignore it. For Legend's sake. 

Ravio made sure his footsteps were easily heard. Legend didn't flinch, twist, or jump. Either he expected his entrance, or he was so deeply buried in his emotions that he didn't notice him. Ravio shuddered at the thought.

The Lolian sat beside the hero, careful not to make any sudden movements. He reached out, touching the other’s shoulder lightly. Legend inhaled sharply, provoking a violent bout of coughing. He shied away from Ravio’s touch, eyeing him warily. He clutched what looked like a sketchbook close to his chest.

“Hey,” Ravio said softly. “You can trust me. Remember?”

Legend squeezed his eyes shut, curling further in on himself. His breathing stuttered, and this time Ravio could see the tears spill from his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest, reaching again for Legend's arm. This time he didn't pull away as his hand rested on his shoulder, tracing little half-circles with his thumb. Ravio didn't dare do more, lest he worsen Legend's state.

“Please, tell me what’s bothering you,” Ravio whispered. “I want to help.” Legend still didn’t speak. Worry made Ravio’s heart beat as rapidly as a rabbit’s twitching nose. Abandoning all caution, Ravio nuzzled his head in the crook of Legend’s neck, puring as much love into the gesture as possible. Hopefully it would snap him out of his sorrow.

It didn’t. Legend stared sightlessly ahead, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Link…” Ravio pleaded. “Say something.”

Legend blinked, turning to look at Ravio as though just noticing his presence. He loosened his grip on the sketchbook, his breath hitching as he let Ravio see.

The drawing was of a woman, the invisible wind tossing her long dress and fluid hair to the side. A large flower of a deep shade pinned some of it back. Her posture was welcoming and bright, but the face… Something was off. The features didn't seem to fit. They just felt wrong.

Legend hugged the drawing back to his chest, shaking again with suppressed sobs. “I'm forgetting her,” he choked out. “I c-can’t remember her eyes. I'm losing her.”

Ravio swallowed hard. He tried not to feel spite, he really tried. But how was he supposed to comfort him when all he was was Marin’s replacement?

Ravio felt himself withdraw his hands. He was suddenly unsure, watching Legend mourn the love that came before him. Now he felt guilty for intruding. Legend must think him inadequate, a second-rate substitute.

“Oh,” Ravio finally said, lips dry and numb. “S-Sorry. I didn't mean to- I'll just-”

Ravio cut himself off, standing suddenly with the intent to leave the veteran alone. To remove himself as a burden. Yet he never had the chance. To his bewilderment, Legend had grabbed his wrist, his grasp like a vice and his gaze just as intent. Desperate, even.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

Ravio blanked. Baffled at his words, Ravio wondered why he would want him of all people to remain. He was just a reminder of someone far more precious; nothing more, no one special. But when he heard Legend croak the single word, “Stay,” in a voice so vulnerable, so scared, Ravio slowly sat down again, concern still lacing his every thought and emotion.

Immediately, Legend's arms surrounded him, pulling him close and forcing a small startled squeak from his lips. The Hylian gripped him tight, holding him like a man would a piece of flotsam adrift in a sea wracked with tempests. Legend buried his face in Ravio's dark curls. His actions were almost protective, in a way, and Ravio found himself melting into his embrace. Part of him was still in denial that Legend didn't want him to leave, but when Legend took Ravio's sudden lack of tension as a signal to bring him even closer, those doubts evaporated. Tucked in Legend's arms, he felt a reassurance that he hadn't felt in years. You're safe now, the touch said. You'll never hurt again, because I'll protect you. 

Except… Lolia. It wasn't hurt, was it? It was disappear. 

Legend was making sure Ravio didn't disappear.

Legend was making sure he didn't disappear. 

Ravio promptly burst into tears. Unlike Legend, who was quiet and subtle, Ravio sobbed hard enough he was sure the goddess could hear him. He hiccuped and he sniffled, unable to control the wave of emotions that came crashing down on him. 

Of course, Legend's natural reaction was to panic. “Ravio, what happened?” he exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?” 

His hands flew to his chest in an obvious display of how startled he was. Ravio's instinct was to pout at the sudden lack of contact. Instead, he hugged him around the middle and laughed wetly. “It's nothing.”

Legend's bloodshot eyes met Ravio's own moist ones. Something akin to worry flashed across his expression, but was quickly overtaken by a pink tint dusting his cheeks. “Stop it, then,” he sputtered.

Ravio merely hugged him tighter. Legend hesitated before digging his fingers in Ravio's silly hair. “I didn't think you'd want me here,” Ravio mumbled, his voice muffled from burying his face in Legend's tunic. “I thought I was making it worse.”

Ravio was quickly flabbergasted at his own boldness. His throat was dry as he stammered, “I-I didn't mean to say that! I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted- I-”

“Ravio.”

Ravio met the hero's eyes and immediately realized he had overstepped. Link's dark, violet eyes were as intense as ever, glaring at him with such a ferocity that wasn't typically directed at him. If he wasn't afraid five seconds ago, he was now. His ears tilted downwards.

“Don't you ever say that again,” Link growled, “or I'll kick you out, for good this time.”

First, Link's words surprised him. Then, they made him so unbelievably happy. He hiccuped out another sob as he squeezed Link's torso tighter, a wide, giddy smile spreading across his face that was so big it hurt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Link snorted. “Don't push it. I might just throw you out anyway.”

Despite the rough words, Ravio's heart soared. He never really meant it (probably), and it meant he was back to normal. No longer lost in the anguish of mourning. Not only that- Ravio wasn't a burden. Somehow, he didn't mess up. And he was so, so happy. 

“Thank you,” he finally sighed. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Sap.”

“I am!” Ravio protested with a laugh.

“I know. That still makes you a sap, Rodent,” Legend retorted. He hesitated, toying absently with Ravio's hair. It felt good. He liked it. “But… yeah. I… I needed that. Thanks. I guess.”

“Awwww,” Ravio cooed teasingly. “That was so sweet of you, Mister Hero!”

“Oh, Goddess forbid I show any positive emotion around you!” Ravio could practically feel Legend's eye roll. “Never mind, I take it back! Maybe I should kick you out.”

Ravio shifted so he could look up at the hero, his head in his lap. “You wouldn't, though.”

Legend raised a brow.

Ravio gave him his best puppy-dog eyes.

Legend swatted at him. Ravio yelped as the Hylian shoved him off his lap, a badly suppressed grin on his face.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ravio giggled, jumping to his feet. He laughed at the hero's oh-so-grumpy expression. It went well with his flushed cheeks. 

“Get back to work, you freeloader,” Legend scoffed. “I don't keep you around to be obnoxious.”

“Your pink ears say otherwise,” Ravio pointed out smugly.

“Ravio!”

That was his cue. Ravio made his escape, twirling out the door and shutting it on the red-faced Hylian. Legend didn't follow. He didn't follow because he cared. Lolia, he cared!

Sheerow was waiting for him outside, fluttering lightly on the breeze drifting in from the open window. Ravio greeted the bird with a warm “Hello, Sheerow”, and opened his palm to offer a space for him to land. His companion complied, perching on his fingers, who in turn tickled the top of his head with a finger.

“Come on, Sheerow,” he said, bouncing, almost skipping, towards the kitchen where he had abandoned his project. “Let's get back to work.”

[compressedrage]

*barges in* Your Hollow Head Siblings hc's, hand 'em over!!!! 🔫

(But fr, gotta love your thoughs, they're neat and scratch my brain juuuust right!!!)

YOU HAVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES MY ANONYMOUS FRIEND

Keep in mind I am very tired rn so this will likely be very unpolished okay here we go–

The order of age goes Victim Chosen Dark Orange, we all know this, but I think for a long time Dark thought he and Chosen were a lot closer in age than they actually were. Chosen had to warm up to telling Dark about all the horrible things he went through, and that included the fact that he was alone for four years. (it's four years right? it might be five. I can't be bothered to look it up rn, its fine)

In between the Showdown and Wanted Orange is starting to think of Chosen as an older brother. He connected the dots to figure out that Chosen was also made by Alan and he saved them! He's so cool! This idea was only a little bit shattered when this older brother figure barged into the PC and kidnapped him and promptly got them both captured. But honestly what are older siblings for.

In canon Chosen does not let himself feel emotions enough for him to see Orange as a little brother, but the connection is there. He'll come around :)

SPEAKING OF CONNECTIONS– I recently had this idea that the Hollowheads had some sort of empathy-telepathy with each other. For example, one normal day out in the Outernet Chosen feels the exact moment Orange was created. He doesn't know what that feeling meant, and he never felt it again. Orange felt drawn to this new stick figure who saved their lives, and immediately follows him through the portal. Chosen felt something snap in his chest the moment Dark died. Orange and Victim lock eyes for a moment in the Box and feel something click. None of them talk about it, but it's there.

(that last one might qualify as an AU, who knows maybe I'll do something with it)

This one is more of a wish than a headcanon– Chosen takes Orange under his wing at some point, teaching him how to use his powers as best he can. However, since Orange's powers are rather different from Chosen's, it just results in a chaotic sparring session and setting a field on fire. The CG are not amused by the amount of bruises Orange gets, but Orange is having an absolute blast.

Orange is Chosen's "Second Coming"– surely that comes with consequences. I saw a hc where they shared portions of code and I liked that; something like Orange and Chosen have similar tastes in foods. Their eyes shine the same way when they smile. Sometimes they accidentally speak in unison because they each had the exact same thought. When stuff gets serious, they both narrow their eyes and make an expression that promises pain on their enemies.

Dark would be the best big brother and let me tell you why. Orange is often left with the Braincell of the CG. Have you seen how stressed this boy gets. He gets premonitions of his friends getting hurt. Dark allows him to mess around a bit more, in a "We might get in trouble, isn't that fun!!" kind of way. Orange has always had a chaotic streak, it just takes certain circumstances for him to tap into it. They would be able to get Red back for his pranking.

Orange would teach Chosen and Dark all about modern video games. They know video games, sure, they destroyed Angry Birds. But I think playing Minecraft would solve both of their problems. At least a lot of them.

I don't have many headcanons for Victim, I just haven't seen enough of him to get a solid enough foundation to make headcanons, but as an oldest child I can relate to him on a spiritual level. He may be gray now but with those three as younger siblings he's gonna get a whole lot grayer.

Gosh I love them so much, a house with all four Hollowheads would be the most chaotic house ever. Victim– the eldest with an actual job, no nonsense, the less-than-respected Holder of the Braincell. Since he is out of the house a lot because of Job, the responsibility falls to Chosen– older middle child, delinquent, failure of a cook and the only one Dark will listen to. Speaking of Dark– younger middle child, Chaos Incarnate, fellow delinquent and Escape Artist Extraordinaire, he is a terrible influence on the youngest– Orange. Orange is the black sheep of the family in that he is actually rather emotionally stable. He's in school, has friends, hobbies– his brothers just a bit jealous but supportive anyway. He also helps Dark prank the others; he's got great aim with water balloon catapults.

I cannot impress upon you enough how much they love each other. Their lives have been filled with isolation, suffering, rejection– but now they've found family in likewise people. None of them are alone anymore. Sure, Orange wasn't really alone to begin with, but surely he noticed how different he was from RYGB. He's not replacing them, not for a million dollars, but it is nice to have brothers who are similar to you.

[nyanashima]

Breakfast in Bed (Undateables Edition)

finally finishing this ask!! the brothers version is right here

Content warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and domesticity

Diavolo 

Diavolo has a busy schedule, so he can’t afford to lounge in bed often. Because of this, he only really has breakfast in bed when he’s sick.

When you bring him breakfast, he tips his head in confusion. You’ll have to explain to him that sometimes people do this for their loved ones, just because.

Once you do, he lights up. What a sweet gesture!

He’ll ask you to sit with him, and he makes sure you’ve eaten before he starts. He’d be more than happy to share with you either way.

Loves whatever you made, even if it’s burnt toast and a rock-solid egg. You went out of your way (and likely fought Barbatos) to do something nice for him. To say Dia’s soft is a massive understatement.

“Come to think of it, I believe my father mentioned doing this for my mother once… I never thought I would get to experience it myself. Thank you, MC. You truly make this castle feel more like a home.”

Barbatos 

Much like Lucifer, Barbatos is up at the crack of dawn. You’ll have to be up real early to catch him still in bed.

This right here is an ‘acts of service’ man. Most of his life is about making others’ days easier, and he takes pride in it. Needless to say, it’s rare for him to be on the receiving end of such treatment.

At first, he’s a little uncomfortable because he’s not used to people seeing him in such a state. He’s in his pj’s, with bed head and drool on his pillow– yes, he is not as graceful a sleeper as one might think.

But then you sit on his bed, smiling and lovingly fixing some stray hairs, looking at him like he’s the world? Lord, he might just faint.

Maybe a little vulnerability is fine, actually, for the sake of love and domesticity.

Barbatos cups your cheek and pulls you down to kiss your forehead. His smile is unpolished, wide, and genuine.

“Thank you, my dear. It smells wonderful… May I be selfish and ask you to stay with me a while?”

Solomon

Bold of you to assume he even went to bed

Solomon is asleep at his desk when you find him, drooling on an old spellbook.

Extremely disoriented when you wake him up. He takes a minute to fully understand his surroundings, doing half-hearted stretches.

Once he’s somewhat conscious, he gives you a dopey grin and takes your hand with his eyes half-closed. You can see him mouth the word “morning,” but no sound comes out.

His mouth makes a little “o” when he sees what you made for him. He turns to you with wide, soft eyes– he doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says “really?”

He’s not blinking back tears you’re imagining things

Solo’s too sleepy to hide how he really feels. He tugs gently on your shirt to get you to lean down and plants a little kiss wherever he can reach. His voice is soft and slightly raspy from sleep.

“Thank you, MC… Let me wake up a little more, and I’ll return the favour.”

Simeon

Luke helped you cook whether you like it or not

Simeon wakes up once your side of the bed goes cold. He feels around for you and sits up when he realises you’re gone.

Shortly after, you and Luke waltz in with a tray, giggling at one another. Simeon feels Cupid’s arrow pierce his heart again, right then and there.

A rush of warmth fills his chest. Despite already being in a comfortable relationship with you, his stomach is in knots. Is this what having your own family is like?

His expression is the epitome of tenderness.

“Thank you, both of you. You know, MC, sometimes I think you’d make a good angel yourself.”

Luke 

Luke is thrilled when he finds out you packed his lunch.

Despite his insistence that he’s not a kid and can make his own, there are stars in his eyes when you hand it to him. 

The little man handles the container like glass while vibrating from excitement.

A picture of your cooking gets sent to Simeon and Barbatos later that day (NOT Solomon, lest he gets any ideas).

The next day, Luke packs you one in return and asks you to teach him some human-world recipes.

“Thank you so much!! Don’t pack a lunch tomorrow, okay? I want to make you something too!”

[jasonsbruce]

what am i currently working on you may wonder? why torturing bruce of course! here's a sneak peek: Bruce was staring up at the ceiling, his pulse still racing, body softly humming from the afterbliss. Jason laid next to him, their arms brushing together for each exhale. There was a silent calm between them, something they only seemed capable of conjuring after all of their tension had been released in this intimate, physical way. But the tranquility shattered as Jason suddenly shifted, reaching over to the nightstand for his phone. Jason’s face was illuminated by the screen as he unlocked it, fingers tapping out a message. He was smiling at something. Bruce watched him out of the corner of his eye, pretending like it didn’t bother him. The phone vibrated in an instance and the smile grew a bit wider, Bruce felt his jaw tighten. “Important?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, barely able to contain the slight annoyance. Jason didn’t look up, he was typing again. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Just… someone.”

Someone. No details, no explanation—just a casual dismissal that only fed the growing jealousy he was trying so hard to keep at bay. He told himself again that it didn’t matter. It was fine. They’d never made any sort of promises, and it wasn’t as if Bruce didn’t still meet up with Selina from time to time. Though come to think of it, ever since this thing between him and Jason had started, his run-ins with Selina had become fewer and farther between. He heard Jason chuckle softly at something on his screen and the sound gave Bruce a mix of emotions. He’d never say it out loud, but he loved hearing Jason’s genuine laugh. There was a warmth to it, a softness he rarely showed. But now, that same laugh was a reminder that someone else was capable of drawing out that warmth. Before he could stop himself, Bruce heard his own voice speaking, with a bitterness he hadn’t intended for. “They must be funny.” Jason finally glanced over at him, eyebrow raised slightly. “What?” Bruce forced his expression into neutrality. “Whoever you’re texting,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “You’re laughing. They must be… funny.” The words felt clumsy, even to him, and Jason picked up on it instantly. His lips quirked, clearly amused by Bruce’s unusual display. “Yeah, I guess.” His fingers paused over the screen. “Didn’t think you’d care who I’m texting.” “I don’t,” he replied, perhaps a little too quickly. “Just… making conversation.” Jason smirked, leaning back against the pillows, phone still in hand. “Since when do you make conversation?” Bruce felt a flush of irritation rise together with something dangerously close to embarrassment. He wasn’t used to this—feeling so off-balance. “Forget I said anything,” he muttered, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. Jason was right. Bruce rarely lingered after they’d had sex, keeping conversation to a minimum, to keep things from getting too… familiar. But tonight, Bruce hadn’t been able to stop himself from noticing the flush lingering on Jason’s skin, the messiness of his hair, the way his lips were still faintly swollen. Jason was captivating like this, when he was unpolished and unguarded. In these moments, Jason was stripped of the hard walls he built around everyone else. Bruce liked this version of Jason, the one softened by the aftermath of their intimacy. He had never allowed himself to dwell on it before, because if he watched Jason for too long, thought of it too much, he would head toward dangerous territories. But now, with the knowledge that someone else might experience this very same moment, it made him think—truly observe. And that realization made his skin prickle with jealousy.

[imaginarylungfish]

AUDHD 👏 GOJO 👏

I’m right there with you so, in true AuDHD style, I’m zooming into your inbox to infodump because I’m ALWAYS desperate to scream about this (shout out to @ellionwrites for patiently and compassionately listening to my unpolished rambles about a lot of this stuff in private)!

I actually have a LOT of thoughts about 236 and how it’s Gojo’s “unmasking”. That chapter is really emotional for me because of how well it articulates my personal experience of navigating the world as an autistic person. This post (and especially its tags) from right after it came out says it in a much more concise way, but Gojo’s upset pout breaks my heart because, to me, that's evidence of “no matter how much you try, people will misunderstand you” and damn… that hits a little close to home 🥲

It’s why his death had such a strong impact on me, especially when it felt like half the internet was ignoring the actual words Gojo said to claim “he never cared about that stuff, he was arrogant from the start and you just misread him". In combination with “it was the best ending for a character like Gojo" — right after we find out how deeply lonely he’s been, never able to truly connect with anyone after Geto left? Well, it was mindblowingly meta and, therefore, pretty painful to read.

I wrote an analysis of Gojo’s character in 236 and, even though I wasn’t viewing him through an autistic lens for that particular post, I think my words under the cut still read that way — that’s how baked into his character I think this stuff is! I genuinely think the two pairs of sorcerers sitting with their backs to each other is a visual representation of the double empathy problem. I'm not sure autistic and allistic people can ever arrive at a place where we fully understand each other, but that doesn’t mean autistic people have to carry all the burden and remain isolated. That’s why it’s meaningful that Gege makes it clear that all the characters care about each other, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye.

Glad to see you shouting about this reading of his character, because I haven’t seen many people talking about it. Some people are very hostile to ND headcanons, especially for characters as popular as Gojo, which is why I haven’t really talked about it much myself. However, I feel like any fellow AuDHDers who read my fic must be side-eying me constantly because I don’t think I’m subtle about how I write Gojo’s character at ALL 🤪

Maybe it’s time to be brave and publicly share my 236 AuDHD!Gojo manifesto for the five of us who are standing in a circle screaming about this! Cheering you on and sending lots of love ♥️

Ahhhhh thank you so much for this infodump!!!! I was on a AuDHD!Gojo rampage last night as my brain worm hit right as I should have been going to sleep. But such are things....

Like idk why it didn't truly hit me until now, but I can't unseen Gojo as AuDHD. (It was probably because I re-watched "Everything's Gonna be Okay" with some AuDHD representation and then I started thinking of other AuDHD characters and immediately thought of Gojo.) I did play with the idea a few months back, but it hit me with full force yesterday.

Idk like I get a little annoyed with people who think I or others like Gojo just because "he's hot" because like okay fine yes (but also I think I just have gender envy but that's a whole other can of worms). But also, no no no that's not it! My love for Gojo is more than that! He speaks to me as a character. He's misunderstood. He's seen as something he isn't. In my eyes, he's neurodivergent (and queer). And Geto was the only other person who ever saw him for who he really was.

Gojo's death was really hard on me. I remember exactly where I was when I read that chapter. And then the airport. Fuck. EmOtIOns. At first, I tried understanding Nanami's words. I really did. But really, I just didn't if I'm honest. Those words were a shock to me. Like yeah okay he's selfish (but like aren't all humans?). He also helps though! Isn't that obvious? And at the end? He wanted to have an equal to go all out with in a fight. Again, why was that bad? He was also helping! What's the issue? He's a fallible human. Like you said in your analysis, he contains multitudes. What's wrong with that?

So, like many others, I thought maybe I misread Gojo. But no. Now I think the missing piece was that Gojo is AuDHD and Nanami didn't quite get that. He didn't understand Gojo's actions. (And ahh god that lil pout. Gojo was just living his life and people saw him but they never ~saw~ him.)

I think the visual of the sorcerers back-to-back is a great metaphor for the double empathy problem. I never saw it that way, but I see it now and like it! And I think you're so right with the fact that the characters still respect and support each other even if they don't understand each other fully. I think that's a theme woven throughout the story.

Blahhh I feel like there is so much textual support for AuDHD Gojo. Like him being blindsided by Geto's defection because he didn't see Geto's decline (and don't get me started about Autistic!Geto with his strict black-and-white thinking), him just blabbing about sweets when he meets up with Megumi before fighting one-finger Sukuna at the beginning, the fact he thought revealing Yuuji to his classmates at the exchange event would be funny (cause hey, I thought it would too until it happened and I saw oh hey, it wasn't), etc. Plus, his blindfold. His overall personality. Like, it's such a heavy mask. Now I see that.

I feel like people either love Gojo or they hate him. (I immediately gobbled up your analysis and 100% agree. And I think people's reactions to his death are pretty telling.)

So, thank you for the yummy AuDHD!Gojo content. Please feel free to send me more/link me to things. I feel like I have a million more things to say but my brain is jumping all over the place and I've already spent 40 minutes this morning on this when I should have been getting ready for work. Hehe, whoops.

Gojo is AuDHD. I will die on this hill. Let's keep staring and screaming at each other about this. Sending you good vibes and love as well 🤍

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ofmd s2e2 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

not quite a reaction post, not quite a liveblog. this post is gonna be unpolished and messy bc this is the only way i know to process my emotions abt these episodes enough that i can actually start talking coherently about them.

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

did not notice the first time around that buttons is sleeping with his legs sticking up resting against the side of the ship. king.

WHY DID THEY USE A DIFFERENT TAKE OF THE YOU WEAR FINE THINGS WELL SCENE WHAT PURPOSE DOES THIS SERVE. THIS HAS BEEN BOTHERING ME FOR DAYS.

oh god the face stede makes after he breathes out all wistfully is so pained... ogughuhg heartbreak......

why is the groom cake topper dirty ed were you kissing it. ed. edward.

hNNNG ed pushing the painted bride figurine closer..... im gonna throw up

ed!! rolling over and crying!!! TAIKA HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT LOOKING SO FUCKING SAD THIS SHIT HURTS ME

like i can literally feel the tears burning in his eyes. the way his chest starts shaking with sobs but he's managing to keep the sobs in for like one more second. he's trying so hard to hold it in and i've cried like this before and it physically HURTS

also oughg the song. run from me baby... run my good wife... run from me baby..... you better run for your life........ ED THINKS THAT'S WHAT STEDE DID!!! RAN AWAY FROM HIM!!!!! and he thinks that was stede running for his life bc like, he thinks he's inherently monstrous and unlovable and hnnnnnnnnngggg. ed teach go to therapy challenge.

the crew responding to zheng's wake-up bell is so relatable. me when my alarm goes off at 6am

ok so the running bit where stede's crew has never heard of China before. is kinda weird to me. and honestly it kinda runs back to what zheng said in the last episode "one thing i've learned in my time here: you people know so little" about nobody knowing how valuable indigo is. like the show is portraying your average caribbean pirate as really ignorant and only like, ed stede and fucking ricky are on par with zheng yi sao. and i mean knowledge doesnt equate to intelligence so like the indigo thing i didnt really bat an eye at but when it was played for comedy with olu not knowing how to pronounce china i was like... hm. but the season's just started so maybe im reading too much into it but idk. it's a weird writing choice to me.

loving how at the start of last season the crew almost mutinied bc stede was a soft captain but now roach is out here embracing how all of them are "tender as hell."

love how lucius and pete have their romantic reunion chat just. fully in front of an audience

stede looks. so upset. watching lupete kiss. this man misses his boyfriend so fucking bad

lucius not even trying to hide how much he Does Not want to be stuck with stede in towels

also hi the sky in this scene is so pink. it was blue when buttons was doing tai chi so i guess this is sunset. day one complete.

buttons confirmed sea witch one of the best scenes in s2 so far. intrigued by auntie saying "i have looked for you far and wide" like are there other sea witches and auntie only wanted buttons?? or is buttons literally the only sea witch in the world. i want the lore.

ed. eddie eddie edward. ed my beloved babygirl. i would fuckinggg die for you

ok but also there is literally no way frenchie didnt see ed when he walked in like ed is standing Right There. i love when directors do stuff like this tho it's so funny to me. "ok joel just walk in there and pretend like you dont see taika standing literally right in front of you"

just noticed ed was polishing the handle to the wardrobe (the main wardrobe) right there. he's tidying up. getting his affairs in order before he— *i break down into inconsolable sobbing*

i wont like tho it was very funny to me when we finally got this full scene and ed's "and no more stede" turned out to be "no more izzy." very fun for me

god i LOVE when we get pirate code shit. none of these rules ever make sense it's always just whatever works for the plot's sake. "that's the code of the sea: the new first mate always kills the old first mate. it's always been like that" i don't think it was literally ever like that i think the writers decided that making up this bullshit rule would add drama to the situation. it's like how pirates can win duels by rendering their opponent's sword inoperable (as if pirates ever had like ritualistic duels). or next episode when zheng yi sao is gonna kill them for mutinying against ed. i love how all the logistics of the plot are always some handwavy-bullshit bc the show just Does Not Care about this shit. this is the ed and stede show and everything else is just superfluous set dressing

we were all fixated on lucius living in the walls none of us predicted that it could be izzy living in the walls

"start with his leg see where it goes" frenchie what does this MEAN

archie thinking jim was asking which leg to cut off and just. answering the question genuinely. is so fucking real lmao me too girl

JIM PUTTING THEIR HAND OVER ARCHIE'S TO BRACE THEMSELF BEFORE THEY START CUTTING INTO IZZY'S LEG... the romances on this show are unparalleled

archie when izzy's leg starts gushing: aye yai yai!

stede telling everyone in laundry abt his whole romance with blackbeard. and stede telling zheng and auntie abt blackbeard when he thought they were just soup sellers. you KNOW stede's been telling literally everyone he meets abt how he's looking for his beloved ed.

lol ok but cuba was not written on the map in the one shot and then stede says "oh, hang on, he might be in cuba!" and it cuts back to the map and he underlines the word "cuba" which somehow mysteriously appeared on the map while stede was chatting. 10/10 no notes

also GOD do i relate to stede so hard sometimes. it did not even occur to stede to ask lucius how he's been until lucius points it out and then he's like "oh! right! how are you??" and he does genuinely care but he was just so absorbed in his own shit it did not occur to him to ask. like. ohhhh baby does that hit home

LUCIUS DRAMATICALLY PAUSING IN THE DOORWAY WHEN STEDE TELLS HIM TO WAIT. HIS HANDS ON EITHER SIDE OF THE DOOR AND HIS HEAD BENT. THIS FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN I LOVE HIM!!!!

LLOOKING OVER HIS SHOULDER "oh, yeah. now you care?" AND THNE SHAKING HIS HEAD AS HE WALKS AWAY god i LOVE this soap opera

ok but buttons looks very confused when auntie says "i see you've adopted the humble form of a man" and then she hands him the book abt shapeshifting. like did she know that he doesnt know how to change form or what.

auntie asks buttons to bless their travels. anyway this is how stede somehow didnt get everyone killed in e1 despite the fact that they were at sea for a few months and he had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

LOVE auntie's little... yell? whimper?? before shuffling away nervously. incredible performance.

also the spellbook thing is in chinese. pretty cool how buttons knows how to read chinese.

ed jumpscare 2!

frenchie's "fire away. not literally, i hope" I MISSED THAT THE FIRST TIME KJSGHKFJDGHJHK WHAT A GREAT FUCKING LINE

love how irl frenchie using the wrong hand for that throat-slitting pantomime would be unimportant but the show acts like that's something that could actually give frenchie away bc they need to really nail home the fact that Ed Is A Fucking Genius

another thing ed is: INCREDIBLY HOT. he is being intimidating and evil to frenchie rn and i am very very into it.

obsessed with archie casually picking some random gore off her hand

also obsessed with how jim is just poking at izzy's leg. they learned how to butcher animals as a kid tho so i guess they're not really grossed out by severed body parts lmaoo

also also obsessed with how izzy would absolutely have not survived this at all. i love this show

list part 2:

ok im sorry but "he's our dick" does not feel earned to me. like they use that fantastic shot of the whole crew in episode 6 last season but what's crucial abt that shot is izzy isn't hanging out with the crew. he's sitting away in the corner monologuing abt how he thinks maybe ed might not want to kill stede.

i do think it's significant tho that jim wasn't there for izzy at his worst aka threatening to withhold rations for laughing at him. like they weren't part of the vote to mutiny against izzy. but frenchie was and frenchie was like "start with his leg see where it goes" which does not seem like he's really that invested in keeping izzy alive.

also it's weird how we don't see fang at all for this bit with hiding izzy in the walls. like he would be the one i'd expect to have the strongest connection to izzy bc he knew izzy before the show started and he was hugging and comforting izzy last episode.

anyway imo jim keeping izzy alive is more abt them missing when they were on the ship with olu and the whole crew and the ship was like a family, not necessarily abt feeling loyalty to izzy specifically. i could be wrong tho who knows.

one thing i do know is that it is VERY important to point out how jim is struggling really hard with everything, archie is not. she wasnt there for the co-captaining era at all and she seems to be rolling with everything like it's all expected. this includes the wedding raid and ed pointing a gun at her last season and stuff. even now she's mostly just confused by why jim is bothering to try and keep izzy alive. but she acts like the amputation and the violence are all what she expected.

yay kissing!! with the shit stuffed up their nose and covered in blood and jim still holding the leg GOD I LOVE THIS SHOW

hnng when archie says "you have... hope" jim's jaw tenses and they visibly swallow after the word "hope." god jim is going through it

"the wooden demon boy that thirsted for life" god i love this game of telephone that the show is playing with pinocchio it's so fucking funny

archie definitely still says a few syllables after "no i was cleaning up blood" while jim was leaning in for another kiss but none of it forms a coherent word. relatable.

ed's "ohhhhohoho. ohoho" is so funny to me. this man is so jealous that other people are getting to kiss ppl they like but not him.

hm archie and jim are not actually kissing when we cut to the shot of ed standing in the stairwell. i imagine this is an editing goof or something

jim and archie pulling away like two kids who got caught kissing under the bleachers during gym class or something. incredible. one of jim's nose plug rags is mysteriously missing now. i think archie ate it.

ed shushing frenchie. nothing to say here but "i need him carnally"

"take the fuckin leg" ed does NOT like mess!!!

"he was your friend" well jim. he might have been ed's friend. but he had a very strange way of showing it.

why does it sound like ed has spurs on his boots

OLU IS SO CUTE I CANT BLAME ZHENG FOR BEING LIKE "you're doing so good at filing thanks so much!!" WHEN HE'S ACTIVELY FUCKING EVERYTHING UP

also. i want to know about auntie's filing system. ahead of it's time, you say?? tell me more. hi my name is jess and i love sorting things

ah yeah olu mispronouncing china moment

olu and zheng are cute tho ngl

roach is having an orgasmic experience drinking soup. very relatable.

love that stede called the broth "insane" like fics so often get stede's voice wrong bc he will randomly say casual slang in a way that contradicts his general s1 vibe of stuffy frilly rich guy. but he's more like your average dad whose general grammar when speaking is pretty outdated but he's also trying to use slang to fit in with his kids

oh god stede is trying so hard with lucius it is giving SUCH awkward dad vibes. "when i was young and edgy" and "mr. cool" STEEEEDE

"my spicy little rat boy" im so sad that lucius hates that pet name bc this is the funniest thing black pete's ever said

aw nooooo the way pete jumps when lucius yells at him :(:(:(

yo wee john has like a wristband with all these sewing needles and shit stuck on it that's such a cool costume detail

the first thing izzy says after waking up is "my leg" and in my head im hearing it in the spongebob meme voice

first: very funny how ed responds "yeah!" like, laughing about the whole. amputation thing. and then secondly i am obsessed with "up in Leg Heaven" he is so fucking quirky. i love him.

"have you come to take the other one" yeah you'd probably enjoy that huh izzy.

love ed's dangly earring. gender.

smthng abt how izzy is instantly exhausted and dismissive when ed tells izzy to take the gun vs how ed was also bored and dismissive when izzy said "i have love for you." idk if there's anything there im just making tenuous connections in my head rn

help. ed clenching his fists when he's standing with his back to izzy. he really wants izzy to do it but also even deeper than that he really doesn't he wants to live

izzy starts to laugh the same way he started to cry last episode with like a really loud sudden gasp of air. also he laughs so weirdly jesus christ

also jesus this is so fucking dark. i mean obviously but im fucking reeling right now from ed trying to get izzy to kill him and izzy's response is just "do it yourself you fucking pussy." fuck.

more thoughts on this scene here

"i loved you... best i could" i actually dont have a lot of thoughts abt this at all aside from it just seems like a weird thing for ed to say. idk. i have a few metas abt this saved that ive been meaning to read so maybe that will help me deconstruct this but i think i'd need more time to figure out why this line feels weird to me. it could literally just be that i dont like blackhands at all but idk. probably not gonna unpack my feelings for a while tho bc in terms of everything i want to dig into from these 3 episodes alone this is at the bottom of that list lol

love how ed tells frenchie "go live" right before he steers them into a storm and tries to doom everyone on the ship.

"two messed-up kids probably" i know this is one of those things that some viewers are just always gonna have a problem with but it's so fucking funny to me how stede is like. never seeing his children again. and is like "yeah they're probably traumatized by how i was a bad father. well that's for mary and doug to deal with!"

lucius winking when he calls stede quite the fuck-up. i love this snarky gay

anyway for how fucked up the vibe is on ed's ship at least they weren't playing human puppet or making people catch rats with their teeth

shit this is longer than the last post. anyway list part 3:

ok i completely forgot abt this scene where the crew back on the Revenge is talking in the hallway before they go confront ed but i think it's rlly interesting how jim is the only one who says anything abt how ed's sudden cheery mood is NOT a good thing. fang is like "do we think he's better?" and jim's like "fuck no!" and frenchie's like "idk he seemed pretty calm to me." like this is so fucking juicy to me. jim knew this wasn't "better." i think this is because jim kinda gets it. they know what it's like to be told you're only meant for violence. and they know what it's like to want something softer. last season i probably wouldnt have said jim understood ed's suicidal tendencies but the way jim KNOWS that this isnt better makes me wonder if they understand this, too.

altho when they go outside and ed is like "it's a bad storm! and i took the wheel! and im gonna fire into the mast! we're all gonna die!!" jim yells "what do you want, you piece of shit!" (in spanish) so maybe they dont get the suicide bit of it. but they did understand that ed wasn't better.

oh ed's voice in "what do i want?" is so whiny and sad. babygirl is fucking going through it. good thing the rain is hiding his tears ahaha. ha.

"all love dies im just hastening the process" objectively this is fucked up but also it is so funny to me that he's like "i got dumped so now nobody else is allowed to be happy and in love." he broke up all the couples at the end of s1 and he raided a fucking wedding. babygirl i love you. you are so unwell

VERY RANDOM THOUGHT and i would have to go back to last episode double check but i dont think any of the background crew are women?? it's just archie??? which kinda bums me out a bit like i dont only want female rep in the main cast i want to see random background women too. i could be entirely wrong abt this tho just in this scene i only see dudes in the background

anyway archie being like "alright i guess we're fighting" bc this is archie's normal. archie is just kinda resigned to her life being shit.

stede crossing out "dead" and circling "alive" is so fucking funny to me hfjkhdjvgdfjk like. manifesting.

but also he does kinda manifest that in the next episode doesnt he?? he loves ed back to life ahaha oh god oh fuck *starts sobbing*

"looks like he's gotten back into arson" okay and??? wee john's an arson enthusiast also, cmon lucius dont judge a man for his hobbies

stede's fucking face when he considers what lucius said abt "maybe his time with you is the best it's gonna get for him" like i think he tries to think abt it and just. cant. he cant fucking accept that. god im gonna throw up.

HNNNNG THE RUN FROM ME SONG COMING BACK IM GONNA LOSE MY SHIT

i cant get over how archie is like. yeah bro it's fine. it's cool just kill me im not gonna hold it against you.

jim's like "YOU WERE GONNA DO IT ANYWAY!!" and ed's like "teehee yeah :3 u got me"

oh bro some of the random background crew people just fully go overboard huh. damn. rip those guys.

ok so im choosing to believe that izzy fired a lucky shot there bc the man couldn't even shoot himself point blank in the skull but im supposed to believe that he got ed right in the arm from the other side of the deck in the middle of a crazy storm and the ship rocking like crazy and izzy's probably suffering from like, insane amounts of blood loss?? i dont buy it. i mean it doesnt matter at all but i think he was trying to hit ed's general torso area and if ed didnt have his arm held out izzy would've missed. like i said tho this makes no fucking difference. it's just a fun little headcanon hehe

love how ed laughs like an absolute maniac here. babygirl u are so unhinged.

wait it's fucking wild how in the middle of all this we to cut to auntie putting the map back together and then we see that zheng is bringing her fleet over land. anyway this is foreshadowing obviously but like considering the song choice and cutting this between ed's suicide attempt and then the crew mutinying. is a choice. and idk why they made that choice yet.

it is a pretty dramatic reveal tho. i didnt appreciate that the first time but holy shit. she's just pulling her ships all the way to the caribbean. girlboss.

and then the mutiny. the relief on ed's face hurts me so fucking much

other thoughs about this scene here

HOLY SHIT THIS POST CREDITS SCENE AHHHHHH

so first of all. auntie saying olu can be allowed to clean up random hairs around the desk and zheng being like "there's not that much hair" girl you know you're lying. her hair is so long and so gorgeous and you KNOW random strands end up making scary-ass hair spiders if somebody doesn't regularly sweep things up

second of all: olu pretending there's a carrier bird with a messege for zeng to give her a break is SO CUTE. OLU. OLU YOU ARE SUCH A SWEETHEART.

[laurellerual]

Ser Gendry

The topic of the day is: Gendry doesn't want to be a blacksmith for the rest of his life. Alright, now let's argue.

Eddard

In the first scene where we meet him, the blacksmith's apprentice has made a bull helmet, but:

"This is fine work. I would be pleased if you would let me buy it." The boy snatched it out of his hands. "It's not for sale." [...] "I made it for me," the boy said stubbornly.

Ned offers to give him a 'military' education, and his words sound somewhat prophetic.

"If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior. Until then, you have my thanks, Master Mott, and my promise. [...]”

Martin does not describe Gendry's reaction to these words, but it's important to notice that when Ned sees the helm it's "raw steel, unpolished but expertly shaped.". And than, in Arya's chapters Gendry does nothing but spend his time polishing it. (also "Robert was true steel").

Needle

We know that the helmet represents for Gendry much more than his career as a blacksmith, it's personal. Even Arya recognizes that it is as important to him as Needle is to her.

She adds two of the Mountain's men to her payer for the theft of Needle and the helmet, because they are more than objects, they are a part of their identity.

Arya watched and listened and polished her hates the way Gendry had once polished his horned helm.

Acorn Hall

The decision to join the Brotherhood Without Banners from Arya's POV seems sudden and almost unwarranted but it isn't. In fact, Gendry tried to talk about it with Arya well before, but she didn't understand it and he wasn't able to explain himself.

It's him who asks her to go to the forge and it's him who begins the conversation talking about war heroes: Thoros, Robert and the siege of Pike. At Acorn Hall Gendry puts down the blacksmith's tools.

Gendry hung the tongs back up and took down the heavy hammer. “Master Mott said it was time I made my first longsword. He gave me a sweet piece of steel, and I knew just how I wanted to shape the blade. Only Yoren came, and took me away for the Night’s Watch.”

So we find out that Gendry has never forged a single sword, and when he talks about his first sword he describes it in particular. He doesn't sounds like a blacksmith who takes charge of a customer's commission, he sounds like a boy who, after having made a coll helm all for himself, now dreams of having a sword to match it.

But Arya doesn't see where the conversation is going and she says:

 “You can still make swords if you want,” said Arya. “You can make them for my brother Robb when we get to Riverrun.” “Riverrun.” Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

He stops, puts down the last instrument too and repeats: “Riverrun.” and then he changes the subject.

The BWB

In the books, Gendry doesn't get a chance to explain his motivations to stay with Lord Beric to Arya like he does in the show, but I think they're similar.

The clue is the flaming sword. Gendry talks about it right in the Acorn Hall scene and insists on explaining that it's just a trick (done with wildfire and ruins the blade).

But then the two see Beric setting fire to his sword to fight the Hound. Arya asks if it's wildfire, but no! This time it's not just a trick, this time it's real. Something has changed.

The Hound's trial convinced him of the principles of brotherhood and convinced him of the existence of the red god. So:

"Arise Ser Gendry, knight of the hollow hill, and be welcome to our brotherhood."

Brienne

Now he is a knight! Unfortunately everything go super wrong: Arya is kidnapped, Beric dies, LSH, the brotherhood changes and Gendry finds himself carrying out his vow to protect the innocents at the Crossroads Inn by picking up his blacksmith hammer again. But that doesn't seem to have changed his resolve: he still wants to be a knight, he still wants to forge a sword for himself.

He took it for an insult. "I'm a knight. That sword will be mine own, once it's done." What would a knight be doing working at a smithy?

Harrenhal

Throughout all the books, the only time Gendry wants to be left alone to lead the simple life of a blacksmith is when he is a prisoner in Harrenal. But that doesn't represent his personality and his wishes for the future because Harrenal's all point is that it's doom and gloom and reduces even the proudest of wolves to a gray mouse that can't do anything but scrub the floors.

Dunk

I should add that Gendry was born in the capitol, so it is not at all improbable that he grew up hearing the stories of Dunk from Flea Bottom who became Ser Duncan the Tall, and that these could be at the origin of this desire for more.

In the end Gendry is more ambitious than he's given credit for.

When Arya saw the horns she knew it was Gendry

And if Arya isn't fully Arya without her sword, Gendry isn't fully Gendry without his horns. Looking for the quotes on A Search of Ice and Fire I realized that most of the time the helmet is mentioned it's called just 'horned' and not 'bull', coincidence? I don't think so :)

[dreamsandcherrypie]

Maria’s Sketchbook Masterlist

We’ve reached a pivotal element of the story which involves someone sneaking a peak at our main character’s journal 😏

PS I’ll illustrate your fanfic too!! Bonus if it’s Dean but not required :)

Chapter 1: Prologue

The little girl from our power duo’s first case

. . . Until an entirely different kind of job appeared at the foot of my bed. A creepy as shit ghost of a girl in bows and dusty nightgown. But even so, you could tell she was a beautiful little girl in life . . .

Chapter 2: In da Club

Our main suspect

“Oh! An’ she had glasses! Ol’ timer ones with the thick squares,” the pretty southern woman drawled out in her honeyed accent from her hospital bed.

I quickly begin sketching some glasses on my drawing of our suspect.

“Mrs. Bennet, did you notice anything unique about her teeth?” I ask, super casually.

“Like wha?”

“I don’t know, maybe they were… pointy?”

“No miss... I woulda reckoned somethin’ like that.”

Chapter 3: Meet Me at the Crime Scene

Ava’s puppy eyes

“Please? I really think we could use their help and I really like Sam.”

“Can’t you boink Sam without us having to work with his stupid brother?”

She clasps prayer hands under her chin, tilts her head even further, and juts out her lower lip. I hold out for all of a few seconds.

“Ugh! Fine!” I throw up my hands in defeat.

Chapter 4: What’s the Steaks? Focused Dean

“Oh yes,” says Rose, now holding hands with Ava, “Tell me more.”

I catch Rose up on the bet and Ava up on that whole barstool thing.

“Do you think he fancies you?” asks Rose, on the edge of her nonexistent seat.

“Not a chance in hell! You should hear the way he talks to me!”

“I don’t know hun, it sounded awfully sexually charged,” says Rose.

“It kind of felt more like a threat?”

“Hot,” says Ava.

Chapter 5: A Whole Night

Cassettes

Chapter 6: Morning, Sunshine Green Soap 💚

Once most of the pool water is off my body, I steal a little of the boys’ green bar soap. I come out of the shower smelling like a straight dad, but I like it. Taking the liberty of using the guys’ cleanest looking towel, I dry off and wrap myself up. Chapter 7: This Plan Sounds Dumb

Vice

Chapter 8: Out of the Woods "Listen..."

Chapter 9: "Field of Blue"

Chapter 10: Fresh Tattoos, Loud Music, & Fast Cars

Chapter 11: Nightmares & Coconut Cream Pie

Breakfast of Champions

Chapter 12: Rock Me Asmodeus If you haven't seen the music video for the 80's smash hit "Rock Me Amadeus" sung by German band Falco go do yourself a favor

Chapter 13: Close Encounter I actually did this one for the fanfic but I just couldn't wait to post it

Chapter 14: Dreams... Chapter 15: ...And What? Huh? CHERRY PIE BABY!!! This 2-part chapter's artwork can be viewed exclusively on AO3 🥸