#just made me think of a certain irrational character

[jivderz]

Happy bday to me and this loser

[pritong-baboy]

(wires and cloth ch 8)

It's interesting how Shockwave's desperate to be understood by another yet is phisically unable(?) to wrap his head around others' headspaces. And the way Megatron offered him a false "choice", making bro think he's his saviour, and then allowing him to have (torment) Bee, which is again viewed as affirming his 'personhood'. Like he has this subtle theme of trying to break away from his og coding and being more than just a pawn but he's just doing it so wrong 😭😭 bro's actively going backward and patting himself on the back

It also makes me wonder what would happen if Bumblebee ever took advantage of Shockwave's vulnerability (made him realize it's a double edged sword) and verbally hit him where it hurts since regular insults don't do anything. He wouldn't do it out of genuine malice or even deliberately, I doubt he has the emotional awareness for that, he'd just use any info as a weapon when he's fed up/desperate.

something like

S: I'ts irrational how you still cling to those autobot scum. Have I not been good to you-

B: You replaced my pede and optic with fragged up 'con parts that mess with my transformation!

S: Your system will get used to them overtime. That won't last forever, I promise you.

B: You're right, it won't last forever 'cause you'll kill me-

S: Bumblebee, let's not be illogical now, you know I'd never hurt you.

B: ...All you do is hurt me! But why am I even surprised, that's what they created you for. Pretend to be safe all you want, you're not fooling anybody. Serving Megatron or keeping me captive won't magically change your coding, Shockwave. You say you've learned to choose but all you did so far was follow what your master intended like an obedient servant, be it Megatron or that mech from your memories.

and then he gets his voicebox ripped out :)

(sorry if this seems poorly thought out or ooc, I'm not good at writing characters that aren't my own.)

ahhh you hit the shockwave characterization pretty well actually, or at least, the way i like to characterize him and represent the point of his character lolll. but my god, you guys really like the idea of bee losing his voice huh....WHAT DID HE EVEN DOOOO.

but i think at this point of the story, and the way shockwave acts due to the plot being like this, i dont see him actually getting rid of bee's voice or really hurting him physically (other than the times he replaces bees parts, but thats different ASIDUHASDUH) shockwave only gets physically harmful like in my other shockdad fics is because hes not in control of the situation and hes desperate. for ex, in "in your crosshairs" he had no qualms with throwing bee and harming him, and that was because he KNEW the elite guard was after him and time was limited.

shockwave is still a lot more chill in wires and cloth bc well, hes in full control. the decepticons won and theres no one after him for having bee. he doesnt really need to harm him. sooo, i guess that scenario is plausible!! in a certain situation, of course.

[moonlit-bunny]

honestly, I can't think of a single reason to enjoy or tolerate k@t/ang - everything about it gives me the biggest ick. usually I'm not that frustrated by ships, but this one really nags at my "this feels unjust" part of my brain. what likable quality is there?? even before I had any real opinion, I knew it was eugh... the way their interactions were written and shown always made me uncomfortable. "the younger boy has a crush on the babysitter" canonically being the creators' intent for their dynamic is not cute, wholesome or appealing to me whatsoever - particulary when that dynamic never changes throughout the entirety of the storyline, and their fundamental disagreements and conflicts are left unaddressed (to the BOY'S benefit).

the worst part is that the shippers try to make it seem like they're more cognizant of social justice, genocide, interracial relations (especially against zk fans) and a girl's needs. but the thing is, their arguments fall flat because the main character is so clearly the white creators' self insert whose romantic portrayal undeniably gives major "Nice Guy" red flags and treads incel territory: he doesn't need to earn her love - no, he is entitled to it. this is actually anti-feminist messaging and we never saw our girl's needs met in that dynamic. instead, it was him who was one-way benefitting from her mothering (which he wasn't bothered by), and his actions kept pulling her back into that role. in TSR, we see it even more - assuming the worst, lecturing and imposing his beliefs based on his idea of how she should be, not trying to listen or be present when he very well could have due to shared experiences of colonial violence. not to mention the grace, presence and non-judgmental comfort she'd offered him when he lost his bison and lost his temper.

at this point I am reminded that this series was made by white americans, so while the other characters can push the boundaries a little, the main character must be an enlightened boy with a supposedly higher moral conscience (in contrast to the angry, irrational brown girl) palatable to an audience residing in an imperial core (in which the majority of us do not regularly encounter or fight off the horrors of an active genocide). in other words, he unfortunately plays the role of a white man's mouthpiece for lukewarm takes - telling us essentially doing nothing is the correct answer to your loved one learning that an imperial soldier who murdered her family has made no amends and is out there walking free - no haunting, no memory, no consequence.

how does all of this not make one raise an eyebrow? by season 3 I really felt like someone had just thrown a tantrum in the writer's room and that's how we ended up here.

in some ways we got to see a fuller development and journey for zuko: we find zuko confronting his father become a better parallel to her confronting her mom's killer (that he considerately does not bring up on her journey), with both of them overcoming a generational trauma that share the same root cause. maybe we are drawn to this, maybe this feels more gut-wrenching, maybe this makes for a richer character arc because he is not a wide-eyed baby-faced self-insert, journeyed alone, and therefore was not shielded from having to make tough choices (like the main character's s2/s3 final dilemma). to think - his story more closely mirrors Buddha's own origin story! the irony.

it really is mindboggling because there are so many beautiful ways to write a friends -> lovers story, and it doesn't even need to be complicated. (if anyone's read fma, just look at ed/winry - heartwarming, reciprocated, felt natural and earned.)

this one's an unfortunate, utter mess, and season 3 plus the comics and LoK seemed to rub salt on the wound instead of making any meaningful attempts at clarifying previous issues and improving their relations. I just feel like seeing this pair as overall wholesome or something is ignoring certain key moments in the storyline, especially those concerning our girl. you'd really need to AU-ify their dynamic to get to a point where a romantic relationship between them (that is actually mutual) feels right or compatible.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

what is your whump ick? preferably irrational ones. like a certain word that just gets you squeamish or smth

I don’t think I really have it? I’m all for Dead Dove Do Not Eat and dark stuff. But maybe not necessarily an ick but I’m uncomfortable with pregnancy and childbirth unless it ends in death and gore lol. I wrote something in explicit details about death, gore and cannibalism against pregnant and infant characters a few times and one of my readers said it actually made them throw up and I considered that one of my greatest achievements. That being said, anything that involves violence against the elderly or animal cruelty (even in fiction) is a huge no for me, but that’s not irrational.

[sheeezu]

Lately I've been struggling to even attempt to shift because I don't know where to go. You mentioned that your 'DR' was more made from scratch and piecing things together and I was wondering if you had any advice on that since I think it would be a good idea for me aswell but I don't know where to start.

My DR was actually very carefully made, and it took a lot of time, without a doubt (like i said, a year or something)

It was basically everything i loved about existing, compiled into a single reality.

It wasn't easy with me being a perfectionist, i'd get upset if i didn't get good enough crockery recommendation from pinterest (but in the end i did it, expensive and delicate looking china teacups, which got a crack the second day i was in my DR)

Ok-

Your DR self:

So my DR self was made from imagination, i don't even think anyone has any trouble with face claims, so we'll skip this portion.

Now for the personality, i'd always recommend going in the opposite direction of how you are in your CR.

A compelling personality would not only attract potential DR suitors but also yourself to your DR.

Try to balance your personality - a cold and sarcastic personality layered with sweetness, since in my opinion being either the biggest jerk or just being a doormat is unappealing.

Your DR personality is the most important part of your DR, even more important than your face claims, a good understanding of your personality basically guarantees a shift.

I'm a little short on words for this post since all of this is supposed to be personal to yourself, but i'm trying to write advice anyways.

Improve your environment, look at your CR, try to see what's lacking, try to figure out what's so irrational that you want to shift?

Make your DR engaging, script it's like a movie, a lot is happening, and you're often dragged into stuff which you've never signed up for (just like a romcom- trust me, you'll thank me on this one, even in my home reality, or even just now, i recall the memories very fondly to the opportunities and main character vibes i got to experience)

Try to be creative, do not care about it being quirky or weird, make notion notes (...? is that what they're called?) and write down all of the in the moment and full of life scenarios you'd like to experience, it'll induce a certain longing and excitement for your DR.

Read and or watch media. Read books and watch movies, this will increase your world building skills, and there's no shame in taking the plot of a entire movie and making it your DR's, it's your DR, no one is judging, it'll be just you there.

Balance. A good balance in a reality is what you want, if your DR has lot of action, don't just make it just about that, you'll burnout. Add other elements, soft moments, during which you can enjoy living in the place you've worked hard to come to.

Don't just make yourself perfect! Let yourself have flaws, trust me, your loved ones will love you anyways, in my DR, i made tea for my family and it was absolutely terrible, and to not hurt my feelings they drank it with a smile hiding there grimaces, it was only after i tasted it, i figured it out. (point of the storytime being, there is no issue with being authentic)

Visually appealing DR. Colorful lights and colors, lanterns, scenic nature, a "glow" to everything (like a calm filter of your choice, in my DR i just made the sunlight be bright golden, it added magic to everything :)

Let yourself experience unconditional love, care and respect. You deserve it.

Make pinterest boards, spotify (or any other music app o.o) playlists, use notion (my beloved)

Romanticize your DR (make everything beautiful- except perhaps not committing felonies)

Ok that's it, i suppose, all the actual DR, who you are, who are your loved ones, what you do, what your aim is, you're supposed to ponder on that yourself (trust me, it'll come to you) , i can't exactly make it or script it out for you, but you know what you like, take bits and pieces from already popular drs, and follow the corny statement:

Just be yourself.

Thank for coming to my ted talk

(Btw, i'd love to upload my script and about my DR or something, but eh, if i feel like it, my already existing script is cringe, and it'll definitely need dusting up)

oh and yeah forgot i was answering to someone, so i hoped this helped (:

[writing-for-life]

The Pillars of Creation

Wednesday, new chapter day (link to chapter on Ao3 if you prefer. More links at bottom of post).

We are getting to why I found this whole fic so difficult to write. I wanted to keep certain story beats intact without simply turning them into a retelling. So there had to be some amount of mixing and matching and bringing in the odd quote. Add to that his character development is already in full swing/much further along than in the comics (or the show for that matter), which requires a tonal shift, and you can just picture me sitting in front of my laptop and either wanting to throw it against the wall or pulling my hair out 🤣

Fandom: The Sandman | Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Delirium of the Endless, Thalia Callaghan (OC), Lucienne the Librarian | Rating: M

Content Warnings: Mature themes, mild sexual content/intimacy (non-explicit), brief mention of self-harm ideation

Chapter 6: Syzygy

Dream paced his gallery, and his footsteps echoed in the silence. On one hand, he knew Thalia was right, that his siblings’ involvement in her death had nothing to do with what Delirium had asked of him. But there was also a sinking feeling, a premonition, an intuition they should not look for the Prodigal. Even if he set aside all his presentiments, his sister was chaotic and irrational, and spending any amount of time with her would drive him to distraction. And that very thought made him smile, only to be overcome with a hint of sadness a moment later. He found himself wondering if he had hurt her by just walking out on her when she had reached out to him, trusted him, had shown what he, in hindsight, could only perceive as genuine care for his happiness.

Perhaps he had stopped to show he cared, because showing he cared had always made him vulnerable, and vulnerability was something he could not afford.

Or perhaps it was?

He became aware of how painfully human these thoughts were, and a brief moment of doubt as to their feasibility entered his mind. None of this was sagacious, or in any way rational.

Dream reached for Delirium’s sigil, but he hesitated, hand hovering midair. He should not search for their missing brother with her, and the discomfort about it was so deep-rooted that it felt unwise not to heed his intuition. But perhaps he should at least apologise to her, tell her he had acted unjustly and rashly. Tell her that he cared about her, but that he had a duty to maintain order and balance in his realm, that he did not have time for whims and distractions. And he scoffed at his thoughts, because he had all the time in the world, and he was the literal personification of whims and distractions, so what exactly made him so uneasy?

The way his brother had abandoned his realm had created a rift in the family that had never healed. And although the Prodigal did not want to be found, and trying to find him was a bad idea by all intents and purposes, Dream also had to admit to himself that he wondered how he was. If he, at some point, might take up his mantle again.

No matter, what was he even musing about? They would not find him, he had abandoned his duties, he did not care about anyone but himself, and that was that. A slight prickle of annoyance resurfaced, and it was better to stop thinking about him.

His sister, however, was a different matter. She had her struggles, but she cared—in her own way, and he could not help but wonder if she sometimes cared too much, a thought that made him soften to her. And perhaps, she even genuinely cared about him, and Thalia was right?

He sighed and finally picked up her sigil.

“Delirium, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Will you answer me?”

He waited. Nothing.

And once again, he thought to himself that it was probably a sign that he should just leave it be. But he couldn’t, and the words fell out of his mouth before he had even turned them over in his mind.

“My sister, I know you can hear me, and I would… I want to apologise. I treated you poorly, and it was not my intention to hurt your feelings. And I understand if you do not wish to answer my call. But it is important to me you know I regret we parted on less than favourable terms.”

“You did the apologising thing the last time. And then you were still horrible. So how do I know it means anything? And that you won’t be mean again?”

He felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth at hearing her voice. “I think you will just need to… trust me?”

Delirium came through within a split second, hair dancing, each strand a rebellious stroke of colour that seemed to stand on end in defiance. She put her hands on her hips, and her locks seemed to mirror her current mood.

“You ask me to trust you when you would never do the same. When did you ever trust me?”

The choker of crystal beads around her neck strained, and prismatic rays of light sent a surge of blinding brightness into Dream’s eyes. She might as well have slapped him, and it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she had. And once again, he felt an overwhelming need to smile because maybe, just maybe, he deserved it. That he even found the thought amusing seemed out of sorts for him, but here they were.

And when Delirium noticed, it immediately stopped her rant in its tracks. “Why are you smiling? What’s funny? Soooo… I’m a joke to you now. Ha ha, not laughing.”

Dream took a hesitant step towards her, face still soft. “I am not laughing at you, my sister. I was just thinking that… I fully deserve your anger, and once again, I wish to apologise for my behaviour.”

Delirium eyed him with suspicion, but her hair had returned to a slightly less wild do. She began twisting her leg on the ball of her foot. “Accepted.” She still sounded like a surly teenager, but it was a start.

They stood in awkward silence for a while, and Dream felt bound by memories etched into his very being.

He finally chose to speak. “We were once, when you were younger, and so was I, stitched together like… constellations. And like stars might realign, what seems like a broken orbit could perhaps be… mended by…”

Delirium looked at him with knitted brows. “You always make everything so complicated. Even your words are complicated. Making amends is not starry, or breaky like some… like spider’s silk and frayed threads and tiptoeing and eggshells. See, I can do that too, the complicated word thing. But it’s just silly. I just want you to be my brother and stop being angry at me and…”

Dream rolled his eyes. “Where does this idea that I am perpetually angry come from?”

She forced one eye shut and wrinkled her nose. “Because it seems like it?”

He exhaled loudly.

“You do that a lot when you’re grumpy. The noisy breath through your nose.”

Dream snorted, which made Delirium perk up. “Ha, you don’t do that a lot, the snorty laugh thing. I like it.”

“I was just reminded why you and Thalia seem to get along.” He inclined his head with a raised brow. “In a sisterly manner, not in any way related to your function.”

“She’s alright.”

He smiled. “I am aware.”

Delirium sat down on the floor, legs crossed. “I know you know, but you didn’t believe me when I said I liked her for you. And that I wanted to help you. And her.”

Dream sat down with her, legs equally crossed. “I can see that now. I would like you to know that I appreciate the sentiment. And that I am willing to let go of my complicated… feelings around the issue, at least where they concern you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Delirium bumped his leg with her foot. Not too hard. “And now what? Can you come with me now? To look for our brother?”

He hesitated. “I still think it is a foolish idea to look for him if he would rather not be found. And I strongly suggest you consider that possibility.”

“Pleeeaase? I want to find him. I really, really miss him.” Her mismatched eyes were pooling with tears, turquoise shallows near the shore, lightning across the deep sea. “I could go and find him on my own, but I get lost kind of easily, and sometimes I have really bad days when, you know, I just want to hide or scream or bleed or something…”

Dream sighed deeply. “Promise me this: If we don’t find him within a reasonable amount of time, will you let it rest? For good?”

She nodded excitedly, tears still streaming down her face. “Pinkie swear.” And then she locked hers with his.

Dream looked at their hands and their interlaced fingers. “I will talk to Lucienne to make all necessary arrangements…”

----

“I’m so glad you’re doing this for her,” Thalia said.

His face clouded over. “I am still not convinced I am doing the right thing.”

She sat on his lap and brushed his hair from his brow. “What worries you?”

He shook his head, gaze fixed on some invisible spot on the wall. “Just a presentiment.” His eyes reconnected, and he smiled, but it seemed forced. “No matter. It will be a brief diversion, nothing more.”

“How brief?”

“Brief enough.” His face finally lit up, and the smile was real. “Are you missing me already?”

“I wish you’d let me come with you, but I understand.”

“You should not walk the waking world. Not anymore.”

“Considering it’s definitely possible from all I know, that’s not really the reason though, is it?”

“You got me. It is not. I simply don’t deem it a good idea you get too involved in family matters…” He wrapped his arms around her tighter when he noticed the look on her face. “And I do not wish to imply you are not family. All I am trying to say is that some things are best left between those involved. Alas, I hope it won’t come to that. We will not find him, and Delirium will probably lose interest fairly quickly.”

Thalia ran one finger over his chest. “So… do I get an advance?”

“An advance of what?” He frowned.

She snorted. “Sometimes, you are incredibly slow on the uptake. Especially for someone who can read minds.”

He blinked slowly. “Oh, I am fully aware of your concupiscent thoughts, but what makes you think you will need an advance? I am but a step away from the Dreaming. Should you need me, you only have to call.”

“And how do I do that? You are in the middle of whatever, and I just go: ‘Can you come home, I feel like jumping your bones’?”

Morpheus cast down his eyes and bit back a smile. When he looked at her again, the stars in his eyes were shimmering in the most beautiful amber hue. “I feel inclined to say it is precisely how it works.”

She shifted position and straddled him. “I would hate to interrupt your travels too frequently, so I fear the advance is still due.”

“Perhaps it could be arranged.” His hands ran over her flanks, and her clothes were gone. “Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“Well, you recently told me you would like to get lost in making love to me until I beg you to stop. And threatened you couldn’t be certain if you would stop because it… what were your words again?”

His clothes were already gone at this point. “My words were: ‘It excites me beyond comprehension to make you come over and over again until you are boneless and lose your ability to speak.’”

“And how long would that take? Do we have enough time to… build up that kind of credit?”

“It would depend on when you start to beg.” He kissed her shoulder while tracing her collarbone with his index finger.

“And do you think it would last me until you’re back?”

“Unlikely.” He exhaled when she lowered herself. “However, I fear I will feel far more dejected than you.”

“Perhaps it is you who needs the advance then.”

She found herself on her back within a flash. “I am afraid it would never be enough.” He began to move slowly and got lost in her eyes. “I shall miss you terribly.”

She wrapped her legs around him. “Even my incessant talking?”

“Especially your incessant talking.”

“I will remind you the next time you complain.” She pulled him into a kiss and murmured, “Speaking of which: Whatever happened to making me lose my ability to speak?”

His lips curled up against hers. “Ready?”

----

Everything felt slightly heavy with anticipation. Delirium was nowhere to be seen, but it was easy enough to hear her since she was singing at the top of her lungs. Something about holding her little hand, running, crawling and being sent on her way.

Thalia was standing barefoot, as she did most days, and the polished marble floor felt unusually cold once more. Morpheus put on his coat, and when their glances briefly met, his eyes seemed filled with the weight of responsibility, but also with love, care, and even a glimmer of adventure.

Her fingers began clutching at her dress, and although she had been the one who had told him to go, she now struggled to maintain her composure. They had said their goodbyes in their chambers because they would rather not put on a big emotional display, but she felt her control slipping and was overcome with a bad feeling out of nowhere.

Lucienne’s voice thankfully took her out of her contemplation. “When can we expect you to be back, sire?”

“When my sister loses interest in the quest, as she will.” He briefly looked at Thalia. “Or when I lose interest, and I wish to return.”

“Or when you have found your brother?” Lucienne enquired.

He exhaled. “It won’t happen.”

Lucienne’s eyes darted in Thalia’s direction before she took a step toward him and lowered her voice. Needless to say, Thalia still heard her all too well. “My lord, are you sure this is wise?”

Morpheus folded his arms behind his back. “We will see a few people, a few sights. Should you need me here, you only have to call. I see no reason to worry.”

“But sire…”

He shut her down. “You worry too much, Lucienne. I have noticed this before. This is completely straightforward.”

Lucienne raised her chin. “Whatever you say, my lord.” As he turned towards Thalia, she repeated under her breath, “Whatever you say.”

Thalia tried to smile, but her eyes had begun to well up. Morpheus took her hands in his. She could tell that seeing her emotional made him emotional, and she hated herself for it. He bowed his head and chose to keep his words private instead of saying them out loud. “It hurts me to leave you here, on your own, and part of me wishes I had never agreed to go. So know this: Should you need me, at any point, please call.”

She just nodded with a laboured smile, blinking away her tears. As she briefly buried her face in his chest, she whispered, “I won’t be on my own, don’t worry about me.”

Morpheus gently pulled her back by her shoulders. “But I do.” He got lost in her eyes briefly before he seemed to consciously snap himself out of it and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

It was precisely at this moment Delirium tumbled into the hall. Slightly chaotic but somewhat determined, and she exclaimed, “To adventure, brother!”

Morpheus rolled his eyes, and Thalia tried to keep the laugh that was making its way out contained behind curled fingers around her nose.

He gave Thalia a brief nod. “We shall be on our way then.”

Delirium stepped towards her. “You know, we’ll be fine. We’ll take care of each other, we’ll be all good. It’ll be fun!”

“No doubt,” she smiled.

He sounded slightly tetchy when he said, “Delirium, are you coming?”

“Coming!” she called and skipped after him while giving Thalia and Lucienne a final wave before they disappeared.

“They will be alright, won’t they?” Thalia asked.

Lucienne frowned. “I sincerely hope so…”

----

✨ Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs make my day, and kudos and thoughts on Ao3 are always appreciated.

Read on AO3: [The Pillars of Creation]

Previous Chapters: [Tumblr Master Post]

The Light of Stars Series: [Link to all associated works on Ao3]

[noraigo]

some days ago, i started watching we are the series, since a friend of mine tried to convince me for a long time to tune in. we are isn’t exactly the type of series i would watch. not disregarding its charm, i must admit it’s even endearing, i’m just more keen on the angsty, adult queer love. however, there’s a certain couple that’s been running nonstop in my mind ever since i started the series and, of course, it’s no other than tan and fang.

tan is certainly unique as a whole, because if anything — i think it’s the first time i see such a loud but not annoying character, and that’s hard to portray. his excitement seems genuine all the time and i feel his happiness is shared through the screen. that doesn’t brush off his emotional intelligence and i think people underestimate this trait of his: just because he seems silly and party-loving doesn’t mean that he is insensible. he can be serious if it’s needed and he cares for the people around him. it’s safe to say that cheerful characters are often overlooked because of it and, as viewers, we shouldn’t take it for granted.

fang, on the other side, is the total opposite of him, yet it doesn’t make him less interesting. his background is implied to be unstable, which made both phum and fang be more closed off emotionally speaking. even so, fang is trying his best to be on the same page as tan, though tan adores him when he’s serene and quiet. most of the time, characters like fang are misunderstood and it’s a little saddening. he is kind and tough, but it’s not hard to love him. something tan understood from the very beginning.

their dynamics keep me pushing watching the series. now that fang has been softening more and more, their scenes became even lovelier to watch, if that was ever possible; their kisses, clear eyes of infatuation, playful banters and words of love show it. i’m not a fan of sex scenes, they underwhelm me a little (might be the acespec in me), but tanfang’s was just perfect. not too much, not too little. just enough to show that these two desire each other. possibly, it could be not their first time as a couple, which is refreshing and new in thai queer shows as far as i've seen. (aouboom definitely enjoyed kissing and touching each other a little too much but, didn't the same happen with hidden agenda? just saying.)

people like them could be too much for others, but for each other, they are an absolute match. fang knows tan loves him unconditionally and so does tan. tan tries to push him for the better without overstepping his boundaries whilst fang apologizes if his behavior might be irrational when he’s angry and accidentally lashes out on tan. that’s actual respect and patience in a relationship. none of them are trying to change the other to fit their own personality, they have already changed once they realized they were into each other back then when they were problematic teens. ain’t that sweet?

just look at these sweet two blorbos, just in their own world, happy and in love.

on another note, though, i’ve gotten to know aouboom since viceversa era and i could already smell the cute chemistry between both, yet it’s very sad to know they suffer from secondary couple syndrome. how many series have they starred in as a second or even third couple? very unfair, gmmtv, you better give them a nice series, regardless of its length. as long as they don’t keep acting in college settings, i would give my entire scholarship for a coffee shop or any other ordinary plot. they are just THAT good and i will never get tired of their chemistry. they have a kind of spark i see very rarely and if gmm doesn’t give them a shot, they’re losing a potential gem.

please, give us more tanfang content and especially, an aouboom series. thank you very much.

[pedroshotwifey]

To The Flame chapter twelve

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Chapter w/c: 2.6k

Chapter warnings: mentions of physical abuse, manipulation, mental abuse, steve and connie!!, fluff but like backhanded fluff?, Javi being a dick, alcohol consumption, mild description of injury

Chapter Summary: Javi takes you out on your date and you meet some potential friends

A/N: Hey, y'all! Super excited about this one! These character introductions mean a lot to this story. Hope you like it! (also sorry about not posting last week, pls forgive me ❤)

*****

“Shit,” you mutter. 

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, fixated on the ugly welt marring your right cheekbone. Your right eye is a bit swollen as well, but not too badly. You’re mostly worried about how the hell you’re going to hide the discoloring. Even with your makeup, it’s going to be a feat. 

It makes your stomach twist up to remember last night’s events. You still don’t understand why you had chosen to freak out like that. It was completely immature and irrational. He was just worried about you and you chose to berate him for it. 

Thankfully, Javi seems to have completely forgiven you for your outburst. He woke up as normal this morning, planted a kiss on your forehead, and made your breakfast. You smile to think about it. Despite everything that happened yesterday, everything today is back as it should be, just how you like it. 

You sigh and turn the sink on. You’ll wash your face and get dressed, then worry about this monstrosity last. You’re excited for your date. Javi told you that he’ll be taking you to a small restaurant a few blocks from the apartment. He’s out running an errand right now, or so he said. He wasn’t very specific, but he did promise to be back in time for your dinner date. 

You lean down and splash your face with the cool water, suppressing a wince as it hits your bruised flesh. You really didn’t realize the hit had landed that hard. You scrub it anyway, being careful to not press too hard. You don’t think Javi got a very good look at it this morning, which is probably a good thing. He’d likely be devastated to know he caused such an injury. 

You finish washing your face and reach for your dress hanging on the back of the door. It’s one of Javi’s favorites, and you’re excited to finally have an excuse to wear it again. You slip it over your head and turn around to zip the back with the help of the mirror. You pull at the edge and smooth it out so it falls effortlessly just above your knees. 

It’s a beautiful color in contrast with your skintone, hell, it’s a beautiful dress in general. You smile at your appearance in the mirror. It’s not often you feel confident, but this dress never fails to bring it out of you. Maybe that’s why Javi likes it so much, too. 

You hear the front door open as you fix one of the sleeves of the dress, a smile spreading across your face at the sound. Javi calls your name in greeting and your stomach flutters. 

“I’m in here,” you call back. His footsteps grow closer.

“You ready, sweetheart?” 

You peek your head out from the bathroom, careful to hide your right side behind the door frame. Javi’s standing in the middle of the bedroom. He looks gorgeous—as usual. He’s wearing a blue button up with his jeans and his regular boots.

“Yup, I’ll be just a second.” 

“Alright, baby, take your time. There’s no rush.” He sends you a wink. 

You flash him a quick smile before ducking back in and cracking the door behind you. You pick up your compact and lean in close to the mirror. The first layer doesn’t do much at all. The second makes a small difference, and by the third, all that’s left is to touch up certain spots. Even then though, you know there’s nothing you can do about the swelling of your eye and one of the deeper bruises. You take a step back. It doesn’t look so bad when you’re not too close. 

You sigh and finish up the rest of it, only putting everything away once you’re satisfied that you look pretty much normal. Like it’s any other date night. You turn the light off and step out of the bathroom. 

“Javi?” 

“In the kitchen, sweetheart.” 

You follow his voice, finding him leaning against the kitchen counter and craning his neck slightly to look out the window.

You grin as you step into view, giving him a small twirl and watching his smile widen when his gaze lands on you. You do your best to hide your right side, but try to be casual enough that he won’t think that’s what you’re trying to do. 

“You look gorgeous, baby,” he says, walking toward you with open arms. 

You let him embrace you in a hug, wrapping your own arms around his middle as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you, Javi,” you mumble into his chest. 

He lets you go after a moment and picks something up from the counter. 

“Here, hermosa, got something for you” he offers you the bouquet of flowers. You gasp, sure that it’s the most beautiful bunch you’ve ever seen. That must have been why he went out. You’ll really never get over how thoughtful he is. It must have taken him a while to pick these out. 

You beam at him as you take them in your hand. “Thank you,” you say again. He nods at you, warmth in his gaze as he watches you softly sniff the flowers. You look up when he clears his throat. 

“Wanted to say I’m sorry,” he tells you, eyes flickering to and from yours. You frown a bit. 

“It’s okay, Javi, I was the one acting up,” you assure him. You don’t want him to feel bad over something that wasn’t his fault. Just thinking about it puts a bad taste in your mouth. He’s much too sweet of a man to ever think that he’s done something wrong. You’re the childish one who threw a temper tantrum for no reason. It’s not fair for him to blame himself for what happened. 

He nods solemnly, giving you a soft smile. 

“I think we were both in the wrong there, sweetheart. I just don’t want it to happen again.” 

Now it’s your turn to nod. You’re beaming inside at the fact that everything seems to be back to normal, but there’s also a sudden threat of tears pricking at your eyes and you’re not sure why. You look away, refusing to let them fall as you busy yourself putting them into a vase. 

“Let me just put these in some water, and I’ll be ready,” you say as you turn on the sink. 

****

You’re walking out the door minutes later, hand in hand with Javi as you try to contain the smile on your face. You’re way too excited about getting out. A part of you feels a bit guilty about getting your way after last night, but you suppose that Javi would have told you no if he thought it was really a bad idea tonight. 

You stay silent and let him lead you downstairs, and you actually have to bite down on your lip to keep from full-on grinning when the evening air hits your face. It’s not too busy of a night, not many people out on the street at all. Still, Javi holds you close to his side as you make your way to the restaurant he was telling you about. 

It’s not far, maybe a four or five minute walk from the complex. It’s small and cozy, exactly what you would hope for. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as you go to sit at an empty table, pulling your chair out for you and making sure you’re comfortable before sitting down in the seat across from you. 

You smile at him as a waitress comes by and drops off a couple of menus. She takes your drink orders—a soda for you and a beer for Javi. You busy yourself with looking over the food options, failing to notice the way Javi’s started to stare at you. 

His hand comes quickly across the table, making you flinch from surprise when he grabs your chin and tilts your head enough to see your right cheek. 

“What’s this?” he demands. 

You wince, really wishing you could have avoided this. You should have kept layering your makeup. 

“”S from last night,” you mumble, ashamed even though you know you shouldn’t be. You just don’t want him to see what physical damage he may have done. He’ll tear himself up over it. 

But he instead snaps, “And you didn’t fucking cover it?” 

You’re taken aback, your head snapping away from his grasp. Shame fills you. Why can’t you just do something right for once? Tears again fill your eyes, only adding to your shame. 

“I-I’m sorry, Javi,” you say quietly, staring at your hands in your lap. “I was just really excited to go out and—” 

He sighs and leans back in his chair, cutting you off from your pointless excuse. “Just make sure nobody sees it,” he tells you. “Do you have any idea what that could do to me in my field of work?” 

You nod, sniffing as your ears burn with embarrassment. Here he is taking you out and you ruin it by making another stupid decision. At least you’re not getting angry again. You have enough sense to keep that at bay. 

You catch the waitress walking back with your drinks out of the corner of your eye and do your best to quickly collect yourself, giving her a warm, tear free smile when she sets your soda down in front of you. She smiles back and takes Javi’s order, which you order as well since you forgot to choose a dish for yourself. 

You flash Javi a shy smile when she walks away, and, much to your relief, he gives you a small one in response. He’s still obviously not very thrilled with you, but at least he’s not straight mad. 

“How have things been going at the house, baby?” 

You know he means with renovations. 

“They’re pretty good. Almost finished with all the painting and stuff. I might just need you to help me with some of the tile and cabinets.” 

He nods. “Alright, I’ll see if I can get it done tomorrow.” 

You nod back, trying not to be too tense. The conversation almost feels…awkward. It’s confusing. Luckily, the waitress comes quickly with your food, placing it in front of you and leaving you to it. 

Conversation gets a bit better as the two of you eat. More casual and free-flowing.It’s not quite how it’s been the last few months, though. More like when the two of you had gone out together the first few times and had been a little shy. You brush it off though, sure that it won’t last too long. Even the two of you haven’t ever really been in a ‘post-fight’ situation yet, you believe that your chemistry is good enough for it to work itself out soon. 

And it pretty much does by the time you’re finishing up your dinner. Javi’s smiling as you gush to him about a book you’re currently reading. It’s a very cute romance, one of the ones he’s brought you recently. He’s listening intently, happy to see your eyes light up with excitement. 

The waitress comes back with the bill just as you’re telling him about the ending, and he hands his card over, along with a cash tip, as he continues to listen. It’s so nice to have someone who enjoys hearing about your interests. Before Javi, you can’t really remember having a person who would genuinely want to hear about your books. 

You finish just as the waitress comes back, revealing the plot twist dramatically. His eyes widen with your reveal, both to indulge you but also probably a bit out of surprise because—in your opinion—it was a pretty insane plot twist. 

But then his gaze darkens, pointed over your shoulder, and you frown. 

“Javi?” 

Your mouth is open to say his name, but it wasn’t you who said it. You snap your head around to see a couple walking toward you, the man smiling broadly. There’s a woman holding his hand, looking a little less enthusiastic than the man about seeing your husband. 

You see Javi tense out of the corner of your eye as they reach your table. The man drops the woman's hand to round the table and clap Javi’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing, you son of a bitch?” the man asks in a joking tone. “Thought you said you didn’t date.” 

Javi’s jaw clenches as your brows furrow. 

What?

“Uhm, yeah,” you supply, ignoring the way your stomach churns at the fact that he hadn’t mentioned you at all. “That may have something to do with the fact that he’s married.” You hold your left hand up, flashing your ring. The man’s light brows go up in surprise, a slight smirk overtaking his features. But then the smile drops and he shoots his gaze down to your husband. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he says slowly. “Didn’t think you were the type, Peña.” His tone is almost flat now. You don’t understand why it changed so quickly. Javi looks back up at him, a flicker of dark emotion that you can’t quite place showing in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” Javi addresses you, keeping his eyes on the stranger. “This is Steve, my partner at work.” 

He doesn’t talk about work much, but from what he’s told you about his partner, your understanding is that they get along pretty well. So you don’t quite understand the surge of hostility between the two of them right now. 

You smile nonetheless, standing and reaching your hand out to him. You state your name. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

He nods as he shakes your hand, giving you a tight smile in return. His expression is almost hard to read. He nods to the woman next to you. “That’s my wife, Connie.” 

You turn to shake her hand as well, and you can tell you’ll immediately like her. She gives you a bright smile as well, telling you it’s nice to meet you. She seems very nice, but also like she wouldn’t be afraid to speak up for herself. You find yourself hoping that you’ll be able to see her again. Maybe be friends. 

“We were just leaving,” Javi says from where he watches the two of you. Steve has taken a step back now, and is also watching you both with his arms crossed, though he doesn’t look mad, exactly. More like he’s contemplating something. 

You frown though, having thought that you still had a little while before you had to go back. 

“But—” 

He flashes you a warning look, and you quiet down. Maybe you misunderstood him and he doesn’t like his partner. Either way, if he wants to go back, it’s probably for a good reason and you shouldn’t fight it. You nod at him instead, smoothing out your dress. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” you say to Steve and Connie as Javi comes to your side and takes your arm in his.

“You, too,” Connie says, and Steve nods, another small smile offered as Javi starts to lead you out. You don’t turn to watch them as you leave, instead keeping your eyes on Javi, who has his on the exit. 

“What was that about?” you ask. 

He glances at you with a softer gaze than you’ve seen all night. Again, you can’t place the look. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he assures you and kisses the side of your head. So you don’t. 

When the two of you get home, Javi cracks open another beer and holds you on the couch until you both fall asleep watching TV.

*****

You for reading! Taglist is always open!

Series taglist:  @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-b @solarecI1spe

[nicecrumbart]

"you have any specific scenarios w/ c!scott etc I'm 99% sure I could explain my viewpoint 😭😭 so please send them over" plsss 🥺 can i have ur interpretation on dl axe-critting tradition? i feel like the 'abandonment' at the beginning was pretty justifably bc like. my guy felt betrayed, he didn't feel safe in a relationship anymore, he had a right to walk away from it. even IF his logic was skewed by his own abandonment issues and bias and his reasoning wasn't totally sound, at its' core, he shouldnt be villainised for just deciding to walk away from something he didn't want....

something thats always been hard for me to unravel w/ his pysche was the axe-critting tradition tho. like it IS fucked up no matter what, im not looking for a defence, just help parsing what pyschological decisions led to him deciding to make the tradition bc it seemed VERY out-of-the-blue for me. maybe the initial axe-crit as a punishment for what he thought was pearl intentionally hurting him in the first session, just once, but why do you think he made it a tradition for EVERY session before pearl started with the powdered snow?

Now THIS is a good question

(Bear in mind I haven't watched double life in a while and I have patchy memory at best

Also this is ALL c! Analysis, the CCs are just having a silly goofy time)

I will say I really appreciate you saying that Scott had every right to not want to be in a relationship with pearl because I feel like that is lost to a lot of people ... Like no one should be forced to be paired up, the season was just making it heavily implied. And if you've ever seen Scott's pov he will twist whatever rules/mechanics there are into his desire.

Anyways-

The way I see it, he's still bitter at pearl for leaving, and the longer they don't resolve the issue the more irrational that anger becomes. I agree the first time could've been a response to pearls actions, but I think it's interesting to consider it becoming a way for pearl (and Martyn in conjunction) to have harsh reminder that they DO have a bond and their separation doesn't mean they're just gone but also that they're not forgiven. (Also the damage an axe crit gives might scare them enough to start considering taking more care for their shared lives - but that feels like to much of an extrapolation for this post)

I also think it's important to remember that those axe crits ALSO hurt the people inciting it. When you think about it that way the action does still feel very irrational and emotion driven - but also self destructive (c!Scott's speciality). Like thinking about it from that perspective and it feels very in character for him, it's just unusual for him to want to consistently hurt another player. But when your lives are linked so directly to another person, any way for him to be self destructive or internalise any actions is an attack on someone else. And because of this, his lines of morality get verrry blurry.

I think a way he could rationalise this is the fact that it is also hurting him too, so the violence feels minimised to him (most likely not seen the same way on pearls end).

Obviously this is a BIIG amount of (probably over)extrapolating on an action. I'm not sure I'm even 100% certain on my understanding of it, but at the very least it's makes the narrative and character actions much more interesting. Which I'd honestly my goal in everything I make 😭

TLDR: C!Scotts double life season is intrinsically linked to his abandonment/rejection issues - the twist being when they get ugly he can't just keep them to himself anymore.

(also his ass is very petty)

[heyclickadee]

More Massive Fandom Salt under the cut

If I see one more condescending post about how people who don’t like Tech getting killed off just don’t get it, I’m going to mcfreaking lose it.

Like, okay. I think Tech is alive. I think I’ve been clear about that. If I haven’t, then I don’t know what else to do. I actually even get why taking him off the board for season three could be a good move (give Crosshair time to decompress and Omega time to come into her own and be the hero of her own show, while also maybe setting Tech up for another plot line to come later), and think it’s possible that bringing Tech back later could actually work much better than what I originally wanted to happen. In fact, if it really is a fake-out I think it’s kind of immaculate. And I still get angry reading those posts.

Because, first, a lot of people upset by the handling of Tech from “Plan 99” onwards are upset because Tech meant something to them. It goes a lot deeper than just losing your favorite character. Tech was a fantastic piece of autistic representation and losing that hurt. Losing that and then never getting the catharsis that comes with on-screen emotional processing from the characters, no closure, no real in-show impact besides inconveniencing the others hurt even more. It left a lot of autistic people in the fandom feeling like we were told that we weren’t welcome in Star Wars at all.

And most of us still love the show! The Bad Batch is still my favorite show and I adore basically the entire thing up through season three, right up to the point where everything just kind of stops without resolving anything but Hunter and Omega, and not getting Tech back before the end hit me so badly that I almost dropped Star Wars completely. People are upset for a reason.

Second, I get that it can be annoying seeing criticism of your favorite show. I do. I actually disagree with a lot of criticism of TBB and do tend to get a little annoyed at certain takes. The other thing about the “Tech’s dead and that’s good”/“You thought Tech could come back because you were delusional” posts that makes me want to fight everyone, though, is that they tend to be incredibly dismissive. They’ll bring up arguments people made during the airing of the show for why Tech could come back, or arguments they made afterwards for why they thought he should have, and then either misunderstand or talk right past them.

It gives anyone who made those arguments, or who was upset by the ending, a general sense that we’re not being listened to. That people have already decided we’re irrational and that nothing we say or experience matters, that we saw patterns that weren’t there, or that we care too much about this specific thing, or that we’re being immature. Maybe. Just. I don’t know—consider for a second that a lot of the people who are most upset about Tech belong to the noticing patterns/caring a lot about specific things/dismissed for noticing things that are really there in real life/frequently infantilized neurotype. Again, there’s a reason some of us are upset and having a hard time with fandom right now.

I actually don’t have a problem with people thinking or making posts saying someone needed to die or that Tech “dying” was well handled as a death. I will always disagree, and I think we’re too close to the “bury your disabled” trope with most of the batchers for me to be okay with any of them dying like that, but one person will interpret fiction differently than another and I can’t and shouldn’t police that. I do, however, have a massive problem with the condescending way a lot of those posts go about it. Think Tech ought to be dead? Fine. Call anyone who thinks otherwise a child? Instablock, I don’t need that in my life.

[prettypeppermint]

swan song.

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

Sacrifice was your greatest gift. It clung to your name like a drawn bowstring, pregnant with prospective yet surmounting to nothing. You gave to your family until their deaths pried your outstretched palms away; you gave to your future self through tired feet and hard-earned sweat. Now, you've given to Thomas Shelby. Your very own love language.

You would give just about anything to take it all back.

He was kissing you--tasting you. He was asking for more and more of you every day through his longing gaze and patient fingers. You hated making him wait for something unattainable.

He wanted you a certain way--pliant, moldable. Soft.

He wanted you only to take from you. He wanted to collect you piece by piece.

A giver and a God.

"Tell me," he muttered into your mouth, tasting the way your thoughts grew sour on your lips. He read you in a way not kindled through love but through years of hardened business.

You pulled away half-heartedly. Your mind wrapped around him and you needed air.

"Say you love me," you ordered, staring into the core of his glacier-capped irises. There was no hope--no apprehension. You've digested every unspoken word already. You knew.

He peered down at you through his heavy line of lashes. "What--are my acts of service not enough?" he said lowly, an air of an insatiated euphemism in his voice.

A swell.

A silence.

An atonement.

"I love you." His finger traced a lock of hair into the canyon of your ear.

"I don't believe you."

A scoff seared through his teeth--a breath through the cornice of his lips.

"I've been thinking recently. During the day; during the night"--you began walking aimlessly around his office, fingering book spines and swiping the dust off of ledges--"during that ungodly hour before work. And thank God I have, because now I know you've been lying to me."

Thomas analyzed you--dissected every syllable. He listened.

"When you look into my eyes, I see nothing but her in yours."

It always goes back to Grace.

The lack of pain in your voice irked him on a deep, almost irrational level.

"At first I was hurt--confused. But now"--you circled back to him--"now, I feel nothing. I am nothing." You waited for him to interject despite knowing he never would. Sometimes, you were too painfully clear of his character; of just how much control he had over you; of how many ways he could hurt you while protecting you--love you while losing you.

"Then I realized: I'd rather be yours than nothing. Isn't it sad--a lass like me? Maybe I should first learn how it feels to be my own--to know every crease of my skin and grow comfortable in my flesh how you've grown so comfortable in mine."

The man you loved, whom you had sacrificed for one final time.

Your muscles yearned to reunite with him, but you held your arms to your sides in protest. "Thomas Shelby, you love me how a man should, but not how a woman should feel loved."

And now you'll spend the rest of your life chasing a notion--a concept--made only somewhat tangible by a man who could give you no more than all of him. Now you'll lose yourself searching for someone to search for you. Now you'll see him in all the men who fail in forgivable ways and love kindly.

A piece of him you will keep; a piece of you he will throw away. Until the next.

"You love me," he states, seemingly unphased. "And I love you."

"You don't know what love is, Thomas. How could you, when you've never loved anyone more than they've loved you?

"That's the ultimate testament of the caliber of a man's heart. It was never me, Thomas. It's her name you whisper in your sleep. Hear it. Accept it. Remember my voice saying it. Cling to it for the rest of your goddamn life so you never tell another woman you love her again."

For the first time, he noticed, you sounded defeated.

For the first time, he saw the vices of Birmingham shade your rural clarity.

Your voice sounded different without the usual fight in it; it revealed the exhaustion you forced down with cigarettes every morning and night. Suddenly the violet shadows under your eyes introduced themselves. Suddenly you looked 5 kilograms emaciated.

It was then that you became another woman in Thomas Shelby's life. You were no longer of the Kilkee coast or the sweetened countryside. You were ruined, and now you were just like the rest.

No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London.

A swell.

A silence.

An empty impenitence.

"Goodbye, Thomas."

While he waited for you to fight for him, you once more decided to give.

Twice more, he took from you.

You wanted to feel his warmth against your lips once more. You had suddenly wished you'd savored your last kiss. "I hate what you've made me," you whispered.

He hated how the words sounded--how they tainted your tongue.

"You hate what you've become for me," he corrected.

You gave him a lonely, far-off stare, as if you were looking straight through him. He knew he had lost you.

You ignored his previous remark: "I hate how you made me think it was safe to fall in love with you."

You hadn't realized your eyes had welled up with an undeniable glaze until you felt a drop of glass wetness fall from your cheek. "I hate how you've turned me into another one of your women."

When Thomas didn't move, or walk closer to you, or even soften at your unraveling, you felt sour all over. Suddenly, you wanted it to hurt.

"No one has ever loved me in my entire life," you said to yourself, almost inaudibly. It sounded so ridiculously girlish and naive, unlike anything he had ever heard you say before.

A swell.

A painful one in the grit of your heart.

You felt heavy as you slowly turned and left his office.

†

He found you passed out in the chapel, your chest sprawled across the altar, your palms still clasped together in weak prayer. A mistiness clung to your eyelashes. He was once again reminded how much he loved how you looked in your sleep: like a soft lull of the shore had washed over you and cured a light peace into your soul.

He stood over you, counting your breaths and watching your lungs expand with life just to expel it. You smelled of ash and rosaries and beeswax. A tear rolled over the apples of your cheek and onto the peak of your nose.

"Silly girl," he rasped lowly before sitting on the floor and pulling your limp form into the cradle of his chest. His palm met the crown of your head to pull you further into his weight, his other hand hooking around the lonely bend of your waist. He felt his shirt seep with moisture, and he knew you were awake.

"She was a piece of my past I can't go back to take away," he said, his chin resting atop your head, voice bitter yet smooth like coffee on a good day, "But if any part of her had led me to you, I wouldn't go back to change a moment of it even if I could."

Your shoulders shuddered silently, and your sobs permeated directly through his chest and into his heart. He always knew just what to say, to the point it scared you.

"Give it time," said Thomas, petting your head in rhythm with your heart, "Give it time."

While you gave, he invested. He invested in all the times you've chipped away at yourself for him, and he kept them in his heart until the next time he would use them--like a business transaction.

But could you blame him for loving you how he knows best?

To understand his love was more than enough. Yet, your consistent upturned and empty palms rendered you greedy.

He collects your wet cheeks between his hands and brings you to look up at him. In his eyes, you saw the end of a road.

Was this all there was? Maybe so.

"Let's get married. Right here, right now"--he swiped his thumb across the slick of your undereye--"That way you'll be mine to keep. No more goodbyes."

You felt the Lord's eyes on your kneeling form. An odd feeling of shame and acceptance washed over you and clogged your chest.

It was then that you knew: loving Thomas Shelby was never going to be beautiful. It wasn't simple or painless or any of the things love should be. And it would never be the same kind of love that it was yesterday.

But what could you do? What could you do if you loved him nonetheless?

If you would always be loved how broken women are loved?

x.

[lej222]

hiii i'm a new fan of aslfua and also recently discovered ur tumblr! i appreciate ur analysis and insight so much because it's made me enjoy alsfua so much more and ur brain is so smart to connect all these references 😭😭 i'm curious, what is the ending that u hope for aslfua/mi-ae? :)

Hi!🙂 I'm trying my best thank you so much for the kind words❤️❤️❤️ Even though I might be totally wrong, it's fun to find those little clues😁

This is such a good question, and I will include spoilers from the latest Episode on Naver (155) to tell my opinion.🙂

So I've said this before, but I mainly started reading this series for nostalgia and because I used to work in education. For these reasons, I always viewed it as a growth story about kids whose biggest narrative role is to mature and learn throughout the story. I think so far some characters have had great character arcs that showcase this, like Cheol, Johan, or even Honggyu. In my head, their narratives are almost completed because they have changed a lot and matured - you can clearly see they were very different at the start of the story.

For Miae, I want to see a similar journey. Miae is still pretty much immature and she keeps running away from/ignoring problems that would destroy her "dream" world that she lives in. She has unrealistic expectations about life and doesn't grasp the seriousness of certain situations, or why she has to be responsible for her own actions. I think I've also mentioned this before, but Miae's biggest "teacher" seems to be Jisu just like how Miae was Cheol's. By hanging around with Jisu, Miae needs to be reliable, patient and understanding, but most importantly- Miae cannot run away from her problems because Jisu calls her out for it. Every time Miae tries to act like a kid, Jisu, who is a naturally blunt person points out her behaviour and becomes her voice of reason. Like when she tried to interrupt the confession or how she wants to keep secrets from everyone as to keep peace with her friends, basically she's avoiding conflicts. Miae reflects on Jisu's words because he treats her as someone of the same age, while others just accept her sometimes irrational behaviour which doesn't help her to change. Miae has to be super honest about her feelings and intentions when she's with Jisu because that's the only way he understands her intentions. Just like she has to be honest about his behaviour so Jisu can see when he's being too much/oversteps boundaries. So in the upcoming episodes I really want Miae to realize that Jisu is also a human being with emotions and she's actually hurting his feelings by not telling anyone they're friends and she enjoys his company. Or that she should stop hitting him/ruining his clothes and listen to what he says about himself.

Speaking of this, I hope that Miae and Cheol's relationship becomes healthier regardless of the outcome. It's sad to see that Miae has to keep being Jisu's friend a secret because Cheol is annoyed with him. In a relationship, communication is the key and Cheol and Miae struggle with it. When one of them is closed off, they keep following and cornering each other instead of giving time, and it only leads to misunderstandings. They keep avoiding talking about the status of their relationship because of their pride and Miae's expectations about dating are so naive I just cannot imagine them dating in the close future. Plus I also think Miae relies on Cheol to take responsibility for her and solve her problems, like when she wanted to call him to make peace between her friends. And not surprisingly, it was Jisu who showed up and called out her behaviour, which makes me think Miae will have to solve her own problems. So I hope all of these things will be resolved without other characters getting hurt, like Jisu.

And lastly, I really want Miae to realize her mother is coming from a good place. Because even though she's strict, she only wants the best for her daughter. I want to have one scene where Miae has a serious conversation with her and they both open up to each other. It's been theorized that Jisu doesn't have a good relationship with his father, so it might be the push for Miae's realization because both her and Cheol come from loving families. And Miae takes a lot of things for granted, that's why she keeps dodging responsibility. And she's a kid, so it's understandable, but if other characters have matured significantly, Miae should also be more mature by the end. She will go to high school and most likely very few of her friends will attend the same school, so she has to learn to let things go and accept negative experiences. Like the narrator pointed out, there are certain circumstances one cannot get over with sheer willpower because they happen anyway. So my final thoughts are that I want to have a closure that doesn't leave these kids with regrets, but rather when they look back on these years, they will think of them as fond memories.🙂

[maxdibert]

oh more of sirius-bellatrix and regulus-narcissa parallels please! andromeda is also an interesting character for me sometimes i wonder as she was someone that grew up in such household what if she happened to fall in love with another pureblood would she be another ‘narcissa’? and a lot of people always automatically assume that before the marriage just like sirius that she was not a pureblood supremacist because she married a muggle-born but what if she was someone that somehow still aligned with the black family’ views but with ted tonks ‘he’s an exception’ but ‘rebellious’ enough to leave her privileges and then able to grow to changed her view after the 1st war and experiencing life with her family(tonks)

I honestly don’t think Andromeda was like Sirius. I also can’t really say how she was or how I imagine her because we know so little about her, but considering that she was in Slytherin, I’d say she probably didn’t have many issues with her family until she decided to marry Ted Tonks. Maybe she didn’t completely agree with her family’s ideas, or maybe she had never considered that blood supremacy was wrong until she started a relationship with Ted. Personally, I prefer this latter version, where she was probably a somewhat alienated person but without very strong convictions, therefore more open to other opinions, and that by meeting and falling in love with Ted, she made a decision. It fits much better with the role of the middle sister between two sisters with very strong personalities, while she had a softer one. But this is pure personal headcanon.

As for the parallel between the cousins, I’ve always thought Sirius has a lot in common with Bellatrix. Both are characters with extremely strong temperaments who hate with a passion and love in an obsessive way. Their feelings blind them. Bellatrix develops a personality marked by quite evident mental instability, which I believe stems first from her fanaticism and later from her years in prison, but her absolute loyalty to Voldemort and that obsession to please and go to the end for the person she holds as her reference is very similar to Sirius’s behavior with James, although Sirius does it in a less corrosive way. Sirius (like his cousin) is completely blinded by the memory of the person to whom he swore loyalty and fidelity. He committed to James in a platonic way, with James being his moral compass and at the same time the person he identified as his new family. Just as Bellatrix sees the Death Eaters as part of herself, the place where she belongs, Sirius does the same with James and everything he represents (the Marauders, the Order, Harry), and he does it in a visceral and totally irrational way that doesn’t heed any kind of coherent reasoning. At the end of the day, Sirius is a dog, and as a dog, he will follow his master to the grave and bite anyone he sees as a threat. To me, Bellatrix represents that darker and corrupted side of the Blacks, that vision of themselves as aristocrats with rights over the rest of the mortals—not just from a social perspective, like Narcissa, but also from a militant one. She is willing to kill and be killed for her ideals, just as Sirius is willing to kill and be killed for his. Both are aggressive, violent, and display a resentful and quite volatile, uncontrollable character. Only Voldemort can control Bellatrix, just as probably only James could control Sirius. They only obey their masters because they don’t recognize any other figure of authority. After all, they are both the eldest siblings.

In the case of Narcissa and Regulus, both are the youngest, and both are on the same side. But they not only coincide ideologically, but also in how they approach their political tendencies. Narcissa embodies the aristocracy that lives in a bubble and simply moves to maintain that bubble of privilege. She has been taught certain values that she doesn’t question, but she also doesn’t have an actively militant or bellicose attitude. She opines from the comfort of her home and is fine with others doing the work to uphold those values. She has a passive attitude, which I also see in Regulus, who probably joined the Death Eaters simply because it was expected of him and because he hadn’t questioned too much the extent to which his decisions might have consequences. Just like Narcissa, both are nobles who feel untouchable and don’t expect the course of events to turn against them. But it does. The events lead them to feel threatened and realize that the game of politics has consequences for everyone, and they are no exception—they aren’t immune to the war. And it’s at that moment that they see that something precious to them could be taken away by those who represent the values they once believed were in their favor. They don’t question their beliefs; they simply oppose those who represent them for strictly personal reasons. Neither Narcissa nor Regulus stop being who they are; they’ve always advocated for an individualistic view of the world, and when things individually go against them, they choose to act to come out as unscathed as possible and preserve what matters to them.

I really enjoy thinking about the dynamics of dysfunctional families because there are always parallels between their members, no matter how much they hate, distance themselves from, or separate from each other. It’s inevitable because, in the end, blood calls to blood.

[lucianapinkgirlprettycure]

My 10 Underrated and Overlooked Disney Characters

Disney has within its enormous catalog, a memorable amount of lovable characters, because both their actions and their character arcs, made them win the sympathy and affection of the general public; however, just as there are beloved and remembered characters, there are also characters that, either for reasons of irrational hatred, or because their film failed with the public by not attracting attention, they tend to be overlooked and underestimated in such a way that it seems that, either they did not see the entire film, or they are so used to other characters with the same complex, that just by hearing their information, they immediately discard it; there are also cases of characters that although they are not hated, also tend to be forgotten, and thanks to this topic, I have been inspired to make another top of things related to Disney, and now I will present to you, from my humble personal opinion, those that for me, are underestimated or forgotten Disney characters, and that deserve more attention than being forgotten; Now, without further delay, let's begin with this new top

Number Ten: Snow White

Let's start this list with the princess who started it all: Snow White; now you might be wondering, why do you think Snow White is underrated if she's popular and everyone's talking about her? Easy answer, because you only remember the movie and the dwarves, and she's pretty overlooked, and I feel like she's hated a lot; yes, she's not like modern princesses, and her overly kind and naive personality can be annoying, but I personally don't dislike her. I love that she's kind to everyone; also, remember, she lived with a stepmother who wanted her dead just for her beauty and kindness, and if you look closely, she did escape from the castle; if she started cleaning the dwarves' cabin, it's not because of gender roles that say only women are fit for housework, but because she wanted to please them; besides, put yourself in the dwarves' shoes: they work from day to night, so it makes sense that they can't clean the house and leave it messy and dirty, because the work in the mine was too much for them, and if she offered to clean, it was to help them keep the house clean, in a way. So yes, Snow White may not be the strongest or bravest princess, but if she does anything, it's try to hide from her stepmother and help support herself when she gets to the cottage; she's ranked ten because, compared to the other characters, at least she has her fanbase

Number Nine: Faline

Faline, Bambi's childhood friend and later girlfriend, is a fawn who, while she doesn't have much characterization, I feel like no one cares for her; many only saw the first film and dismiss her as Bambi's girlfriend, but if you watch the second film (which is actually an interquel) Bambi 2, she demonstrates intelligence in knowing the evil intentions of Ronno, Bambi's rival deer, knowing that if she stayed with him, she wouldn't be happy; she also has the most adorable traits of her personality, gor example, when she first meets Bambi, she plays with him and even kisses him on the cheek playfully, and when they reunite as adults, it's also adorable to see her kiss him again, but in a romantic way; this is a detail that no one notices, since she's the one who initiates their relationship, believe it or not; nothing more to say, number nine for Faline the fawn

Number Eight: Mr. Smee

This issue may be somewhat controversial for some, but from my perspective, I feel that Mr. Smee from the film Peter Pan, is a character who isn't talked about much and tends to be overlooked, as I didn't find many people who claim Smee as their favorite comic sidekick, which I find a shame, since I find him not only comical thanks to his witty clumsiness, but also because his appearance and personality make him lovable; his appearance bears a certain resemblance to the dwarves in Snow White, and his character is that of a person who, although he works for a feared captain like Hook, ends up being a kind-hearted person due to his treatment of his captain; he also demonstrated sensitivity when it came to expressing his feelings, showing us that villains can also suffer and feel. Because of that small demonstration that sidekicks can have feelings too, Smee is a character who should be admired and respected, both for her personality and for her way of making viewers laugh

Number Seven: Cinderella

Another princess who I feel is quite underrated and misunderstood is Cinderella; upon closer inspection, she is someone who did something to try to escape her abusive family, always keeping a smile on her face and hoping that, one day, her wishes would come true; she also demonstrated, in private, that she could be sarcastic behind her abusers' backs, but unfortunately, it only gets played down to superficiality, and she's criticized for relying on a man and a fairy godmother to solve her problems, but that's not true, for starters, it's the mice who actually save Cinderella, the prince was just a bonus and doesn't do anything except wait for her, and secondly, saying that a victim of abuse should escape on their own, even knowing they'd fare worse, is blaming the victim; so no, Cinderella wasn't saved by the prince, she was saved by her animal friends, and she proved to have an important role in her own rescue; more respect for this girl, please

Number Six: Nala

As a huge Lion King fan, it makes me sad to know that Nala, Simba's love interest, is quite overlooked; both film critics and the Disney fandom tend to underestimate her as a character, labeling her as a useless person who supposedly did nothing except be Simba's girlfriend; i mean, if you really watched the movie more in depth, she's actually a very important character for the plot; put yourself in her shoes. You live in a kingdom ruled by a tyrant, so you have to go out and find food to survive; one day, you run into your childhood friend, whom you thought was dead a long time ago, by pure chance, you fall in love with him, and then, remembering your mission, you reproach your friend for everything that caused his absence, the kingdom is suffering the consequences for a reason, and you tell him to take your place as king, and in the end, you help him in the battle against the hyenas; if that isn't called helping, then tell me what is? Come on, not all characters have to be like Dory from Finding Nemo, in the sense that they deserve the same treatment as the male protagonist; while it's true that Nala plays a supporting role and doesn't appear much on screen, she's still a very helpful character for Simba, so don't tell me she's useless

Number Five: Ariel

Starting at number five, we have characters who are too hated and deserve more respect; here we have another Disney princess who I feel is hated, and that's Ariel from The Little Mermaid; not only is she criticized for abandoning her family for Eric, but she's also criticized for her tantrum-throwing, selfish, and ungrateful personality, for disobeying her father despite his warnings, and for ultimately learning nothing; yes, I'm aware that she did bad things throughout her journey, but first, not only was she already interested in the human world before seeing Eric, but she gave up her home because she didn't feel heard, that if she raised her voice, no one would listen to her, and her father's destruction of her belongings is what made her see Ursula; I have a theory that if Triton had started talking to his daughter and cleared things up, as well as letting her explore as much as she wanted, maybe she wouldn't have left home like that; I understand that he only wanted to protect her, but he did so at the cost of alienating her and not allowing her to express her opinions, hence her disobedience towards him; that little defense over, Ariel, while she made her mistakes, deserves more respect from the public, especially those who grew up in overprotective environments, with parents who, although they had good intentions to protect their sons or daughters, do so at the cost of limiting their freedom

Number Four: Kenai

Kenai, the main character of Brother Bear, is a rather hated protagonist, mainly for his arrogant and rude personality, and for constantly complaining about Koda, the bear cub, for talking too much; however, from my point of view, I don't dislike this man turned into a bear, yes, sometimes I disliked him at times, but in general I had a lot of respect and affection for him, since he learns not only not to judge bears by their monstrous appearances, but also to respect others and give them a special space, as happened with little Koda, where by understanding him more deeply, he saw him as a little brother who needed to protect, that's why in the end, he makes the decision to stay as a bear to take care of him, and in its sequel, Brother Bear 2, he is seen to have improved his character quite a bit, especially in his dealings with Koda and Nita, his later romantic interest; so Kenai deserves more respect and not so much hate.

Number Three: Mater

Cars is one of the Pixar franchises that I feel receives too much hate, whether for its story, merchandise, stereotypical characters, etc. However, of all this sea of ​​​​hate, the one that affected me the most was the one that was had for Mater the tow truck, and Pixar fans seem to have a great disgust for the character, always saying that he is an annoying sidekick, that his voice (provided by Larry The Cable Guy) is irritating, in addition to hating the voice actor just for that detail (which seems stupid to me because I don't understand the hate towards this man who is not to blame for his detractors being idiots) and that he is no good as a protagonist in the infamous Cars 2; here I come to come out and say that this poor male tow truck does not deserve so much hate; yes, sometimes his jokes do not cause that much laughter in an adult, but he is like that, funny and charismatic in his own way, and if it weren't for him, Lightning McQueen would never have changed his personality and would still be the same arrogant man from the beginning; besides, the fact that he is the protagonist in the second film didn't bother me either (yes, I liked that sequel, I know it's not perfect but please respect me) and besides, Pixar did the same with Dory and nobody said anything bad, as if she did work as the main character but not Mater; nothing more to add, he is a character who deserves to receive more affection and not so much contempt.

Number Two: All The Characters From Home on the Range

When Home on the Range first came out in theaters, everyone criticized its plot, and it's rated as the worst movie in the Disney industry, but from my point of view, this film doesn't deserve so much hate and to be forgotten, and I'm not just referring to its story and themes, but almost all of its characters are unfairly hated; the three main cows, Maggie, Grace and Mrs. Calloway, are some of the best written female characters, Buck the horse is likeable, Alameda Slim is an underrated villain, with a very danceable villain song of his, the The Willies are also forgotten, and the secondary characters like Lucky Jack, the rabbit with a peg leg, and Jeb, the grumpy male goat who doesn't like to share his cans, make me laugh like the first time I saw this animated film; so Home on the Range, both its characters and its story, deserve much more respect and affection, and not to be forgotten as one of the most hated and detested characters in cartoons

Number One: All The Characters From Chicken Little

And at number one is a character whose hatred and contempt I will never fully understand, both for him and for his film; yes, I'm talking about Chicken Little from the film of the same name; seriously, I'll never understand why this film received so many bad reviews at the time of its release, it's great from beginning to end, its story, although it has certain clichés like the alien invasion, also portrays a protagonist who seeks to be accepted in society and repair his relationship with his father, a father who although he did not do the right thing by ridiculing his son with the other inhabitants of the town, at least redeems himself and they love each other again as father and son, and the supporting characters like Abby Mallard, deserve more respect, especially her as a strong female character, when she helps Chicken Little solve his problems; it also has a soundtrack with famous classic pop songs, and in general, it's a film to laugh and entertain; nothing more to add, number one for Chicken Little, who does not deserve so much hate from critics and Disney fans

I hope you liked it, and reblog this whether you agree with me

[standfucker]

Engravings

inspired by the following comment on my last SH fic:

Couldn't stop thinking about it, which eventually led to this.

Characters: Sanji

Reader: GN, they/them

Word Count: 6.2k

CW: Hurt/Comfort, SH, SH scars, auditory hallucinations, PTSD, mental institution-related trauma. No shipping, ace-friendly

Summary: It’s Sanji. You’re immediately, wholeheartedly certain. It’s Sanji, and he knows.

AO3 Link

"I’m listening to everything / please, tell me everything"

Nothing’s happened.

The sea is calm, the sun is shining, and the breeze is strong. All in all, a great day for sailing.

Nothing’s happened…

No recent squabbles among the crew, no surprises from sea beasts, no battles with pirates or Marines.

There’s no reason to feel the way you do. No trigger or logic to it. But you feel it anyway.

It’s like there’s an invisible filter over everything. Nothing looks different. Things sound different, though. The sounds of the waves and wind, the snapping of sailcloth and rope, the din of the crew’s voices. All of it wavers, like someone has their hand on a universal volume dial, yanking it back and forth at random. Sometimes the sounds are piercingly loud, like they’re right next to your ears, making you resist the urge to cover them. Sometimes the sounds blend into the background of everything else in a low, dull hum–so distorted that you have to focus to parse what’s being said to you.

The sound issue is your second tip-off that you’re having that kind of day. The first is the sense that the Sunny feels too small. And, crushingly, overwhelmingly, it feels like your fault. Irrational, but you can’t shake it. Really, it’s stupid: On the outside, it just looks like you’re hanging out next to your crewmates, making idle conversation. Inwardly, there’s such a deep feeling of guilt for just being there that you’re ready to throw yourself overboard.

You try to cope. You really do. You make an effort, mentally talking yourself through it.

I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to exist.

You want to cry. You want to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t make sense, and there’s no cause you can identify. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

No one notices. How could they? Your mask is calm smiles and practiced eye contact, formed with easy jokes and interest in what the others say. Your mask is years in the making, thick with each layer you’ve added to seal in the cracks. It’s heavy and ugly, but it keeps you safe.

I am allowed to exist.

There’s no danger. You can’t explain why your fight-or-flight response is going off. There’s something wrong with you, and no one can see it because the problem is deep in the wiring. You can’t even see it. But you can feel it, and it feels so god-awful you don’t know how to endure it.

You feel yourself shaking from head to toe, so much so that it’s hard to keep your balance. But when you look down, your body is completely still. The noise around you blends together and buzzes like static, harsh on your ears. Then it gets louder.

I am allowed to exist.

You want to crawl in a hole and hide.

I am…

You excuse yourself–casually, collectedly–and head for the ship’s interior. You know what you’re going to do before you even start moving, like the decision’s already been made for you. A certainty that settles in your system, something to hold onto. The background noise grows even louder.

You stumble into the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door, all sound cuts out. 

You can’t hear anything. Not even the sea, nor the creaking wood of the ship. The room shifts, draws away from you until you have tunnel vision. Your vision warps, then focuses on the cabinet above the sink until you can see nothing else. Just like before.

It’s been a few weeks since the last time.

The background noise slowly picks up, but it’s distant, like you’re hearing it coming from a different ship. You reach for the cabinet.

What are you doing?

You open the cabinet. It’s organized so each crewmate’s stuff is clustered together, with the common items at the bottom. Your gaze passes over your deodorant, your nail clippers, your toothbrush, and settles on your straight razor.

Aren’t you too old for this?

You take your razor. From the common items, you take a bottle of alcohol. You fold up some tissue paper.

What would the crew think?

It’s hard to ignore the thoughts. But like any bully, they usually go away if you don’t give them energy. Usually.

The razor’s weight in your hand is comforting. It shouldn’t be, but it is. You unfold it, wipe down the blade with some alcohol. Then you lift up your sleeve and slide it over your shoulder.

This stretch of sea has been balmy. With the pleasant weather, you’ve worn a t-shirt, the short sleeves going just less than halfway down your arm. Underneath them, high up on your shoulder, are the scars. Faint and healed, a few shades lighter than your skin tone. Noticeable in the light, but that’s why you don’t participate in the group baths.

The background noise gets louder again. You think you hear shouting, faintly, but that’s normal for the crew. It barely registers over your heartbeat. 

Your heart is beating harder than before, dull thumps in your chest that seem to echo. Anticipating, ready.

Everything is going to be okay.

Finally. Finally. A hurt you can make sense of. Small, controlled. Yours.

There’s supposed to be a rush, you’ve heard. You don’t feel one. But there is a difference. The tunnel vision stops, the filter lifts. The world snaps back into place, the sound goes back to normal.

That’s when you really notice the shouting, no longer muffled by brain static. Something’s off. You focus. It doesn’t sound argumentative, like Zoro and Sanji. Nor is it playful, like Luffy or Franky’s might be. It’s startled and panicky, immediately grabbing your attention and making your adrenaline surge.

A second later, you hear an echoing BOOM, followed by an ear-splitting crunching of wood. It’s a sound you recognize, one you’ve heard before–a cannonball tearing into the ship.

You’re under attack.

For just a moment, you stare at your equipment, caught off guard. Then you pull yourself together–take your feelings and compartmentalize them for later dealing with–and tear out of the bathroom, dropping the tissue in the process. Your pistols are in their case, in the sleeping quarters. You need to get to them before you can join the fight…

The enemy pirates are strong–for a New World crew. Unfortunately for them, they’re completely outclassed by Luffy alone, much less the combined strength of the Straw Hats. Still, the numbers favor the enemy, and the battle is tiring enough to be distracting. Enough so that you forgot about what you were doing before it started. It’s only an hour into helping Franky patch up the ship, when you feel your shirt sleeve catch on your scabs, that you remember.

Then you realize you left your equipment out in the bathroom.

The razor. The alcohol. The bloody tissue paper.

Panic floods your system. You drop your tools and jump up as if electrocuted, all but flying to the bathroom. Has anyone used it since the fight?

Please no, please please please be wrong.

You kick the door open. It bangs harshly against the wall.

The equipment is gone. Your stomach sinks.

No no no no no.

You open the cabinet. Everything’s been returned to its place. Your straight razor has been folded and put away, as has the alcohol. The used tissue paper is gone. Not in the trash, either. Whoever it was must have discarded it in the toilet.

No no no no no!

Who? 

Who was it? You run through the possibilities in your head. Zoro? No, he wouldn’t clean up after someone else’s mess. Neither would Nami. At least, not for free. And what about the rest of the crew?

Whoever it was, would they even know what they saw? Surely they’d just think you cut yourself shaving. That was the only explanation, right? Even if the patterns on the tissue paper were distinct, the stains shaped into blurry, beaded lines–unless they had done it before, there’s no way they’d know. Right?

This time, when you shiver, it’s for real, not just a figment of your imagination. What would happen if you were found out? At best you’d be kicked out of the crew. At worst…

I’ll get locked up again.

You feel ill. Dizzy and nauseated with the prospect. You try not to spiral, try to get a grip before panic can take hold. The best you can do is to close the door behind you, sit on the floor, and take deep breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’re there–minutes, hours–but you don’t get up until someone knocks on the door.

“You almost done?” Usopp calls from the other side.

Swallowing hard, you find your voice. “Yeah. Just a sec.”

Usopp doesn’t so much as give you a second glance when you pass him. It’s not him.

You’re hypervigilant the rest of the day, scrutinizing every action, every word from your crewmates. Nothing seems different, but that only makes you more paranoid.

Nami offers you a tangerine. The simple action sets off a cascade of racing thoughts: Is she trying to make you feel better? Because she knows? Did she tell anyone? Did she tell Chopper? Luffy?

Every interaction is like that–an innocuous action that makes you flip out internally.

Franky gives you a gift: A cute little wind-up frog toy, made from scrap metal. He says it's to thank you for helping with repairs. You scan his face, but he’s only grinning proudly. Not Franky, either. 

Zoro invites you to drink with him. Brook plays a song you like. Robin hands you a book she’s just finished, saying it might suit your tastes. Nothing unusual, but enough to make you second guess everything. Each time, you cling to your mask, holding it so tightly to your face that you can barely breathe.

The next day, Sanji cooks your favorite meal for dinner. That wouldn’t be too weird, except you know for a fact that your favorite involves pricy ingredients that he prefers to save. You know this because he mentioned it, years ago, when he was teaching you how to make the dish.

You and Sanji had joined the Straw Hats at the same time. Two weeks before Luffy had shown up, you had tried and failed to dine-and-dash from Baratie. Zeff forced you to work to pay it off, plus an extra week to “teach you a lesson.” That was when you got to know Sanji. Unlike the rest of the chefs, he wasn’t mad at you for what you did. He even taught you some of the basics of cooking. As the only soft presence on the floating restaurant, you grew attached, and that feeling of reliance never really left since then. You were drawn to his air of confidence and self-assuredness, but mostly to the fact that he never hid who he was, even when who he was could be straight-up idiotic at times. But you still respected that about him.

You always liked to hang out around the cook, helping him prepare meals with what you learned at Baratie. You both fought well together, having each others’ backs in battle despite your different fighting styles. It was safe to say that he was your favorite crewmate, and though you weren’t sure what he thought of you, you viewed him as your closest friend.

So you really, really don’t want it to be Sanji.

You appraise his expression, his movement, his actions. It all seems normal, on the surface. And yet, it feels off somehow, but you can’t tell if that’s just the paranoia speaking.

“How is it?” Sanji inquires.

You stare for a second. It’s not a question he usually asks–he knows it’s your favorite and he knows you think it’s amazing. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but the smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Delicious, as always,” you say. Your own smile lights up your face, the way you’ve carefully practiced. “What’s the occasion?”

He pauses, rubs the back of his neck. “No reason, really. I just thought that it’s been a while since we’ve had it.”

That evening, you’re alone at the port side of the ship, leaning against the railing and looking out at the night sea. Sometimes it helps with your racing thoughts. This time, it does nothing. Nothing keeps you from fixating on the situation. You feel like you’re hanging by a thread, like at any moment you’ll get kicked off the crew, and then your whole world will unravel. And it’s entirely your fault.

The questions won’t stop repeating themselves: Who was it? Did they know?

Behind you, someone clears their throat. You whirl around a bit too quickly and steady yourself with a hand on the railing. Sanji’s standing there with his hands in his pockets. Something about his posture sets alarm bells off in your head. He’s too stiff, trying too hard to appear composed.

“Hey, Y/n,” Sanji says gently, “can I talk to you about something?”

It’s Sanji. 

You’re immediately, wholeheartedly certain. It’s Sanji, and he knows.

You gape at him for a moment, then collect yourself. The mask comes back on.

“Actually, I’m pretty tired. Gonna turn in for the night. Tomorrow, okay?” you dismiss, and go to walk past him.

“Wait a second, Y/n,” he reaches to grab your wrist, but you yank it away before he can.

“Don’t!” you snap, stepping back, then quickly correct yourself. “I mean–don’t surprise me like that! We’ll talk tomorrow. I really should sleep...”

Sanji frowns, hand slowly lowering, and you make a hasty retreat.

The rest of the week is torture. You’re constantly avoiding Sanji wherever possible. He doesn’t strike up conversation when the others are around, which only makes you more certain that he knows. You ensure that you’re never alone with him, and if he does approach you by himself, you make yourself scarce. It becomes harder and harder to hide that you’re avoiding him. The crew takes notice–it’s not difficult considering you and Sanji are normally close.

Zoro’s the first to say something.

“Oi, Y/n. Did you have a fight with the cook or something?” he asks bluntly.

“No, we didn’t,” you reply.

Zoro’s eyes narrow slightly. “Well, you’re both acting weird.”

Some of the others are looking your way, now. Anxiety sours your stomach. You hold your mask steady as he continues.

“You’ve been kind of flighty lately. And he’s oddly subdued,” Zoro says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, since he’s finally quiet for once, but it’s annoying. Would you just talk to him?”

“Uh…yeah, sure thing.”

Obviously, you don’t talk to Sanji. You keep evading him at every turn, only growing more distressed with each passing day. You know you can’t dodge the issue forever, but the moment you stop is the moment you’ll get kicked off the crew or worse, and that thought makes you want to die.

But the Sunny is only so large, and eventually, Sanji manages to corner you one night at the bow of the ship. You have your back to the figurehead, throat dry as you face him. Brook is up in the crow’s nest, keeping watch. Everyone else is asleep. It’s just you two, and you know you’ve run out of luck.

“We need to talk, Y/n,” Sanji says firmly.

Your throat goes dry. “Now?”

“Right now. No more running,” he says, taking a few steps closer. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly.”

There’s no getting out of it anymore. “...Alright.” you say. Your heart pounds harder, palms growing damp.

Sanji takes a long drag off his cigarette, then stubs it out–that’s when your adrenaline really spikes, when you know you’re in for it. He looks you in the eye.

“Should you have access to firearms?”

The question hits you like a brick, stunning you into wide-eyed silence. You open your mouth, then close it, unable to respond for a second.

“...What are you talking about?” you try.

“Given how you’ve been avoiding me,” he says coolly, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m–I’m not following.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Y/n!” he snaps, and you cringe. “Of everything you’re hiding, this is the one thing I’m going to find out. I’m not asking. You’re going to tell me or I’m going to tell Chopper. So answer me, right now: Are you safe around guns?”

You can’t take another step back, but you instinctively try anyway, your heel scraping the wood of the ship. But there’s nothing you can do. The mask crumbles, years and years of desperate crafting turning to dust in an instant.

“God, Sanji,” you respond, “what am I supposed to say to that?”

“The truth,” he says.

“And if you didn’t like my answer, what would you do? Take them away from me?”

“Yes.” His tone is unyielding, his eyes hard.

Yours start to sting at the corners. “And what after that? You’ll have me–” you bite your tongue to keep the tears from forming, “–you’ll have me kicked off the crew?”

“I never said that,” he says stiffly, “you don’t get it–”

“You don’t get it!” you bite back, voice rising. You lower it before continuing, “you don’t know anything.”

“I know you’re cutting.”

You flinch. The words sting. It’s not a pleasant sting this time. You turn your head, unable to look him in the eye.

“It’s just…” Sanji says, and there’s a touch of hurt in his voice, “after everything we’ve been through, I thought you trusted me.”

“I do,” you say automatically.

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

That stings even deeper. You shake your head. “I do, Sanji, but this is different.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business!” you bite. Bile rises in your throat at your venom; you hate being callous.

“My friend’s hurting themselves,” Sanji replies thinly, “that makes it my business.”

“That isn’t how this works!” you argue. “You don’t get to know everything about me just because you don’t like this!”

“Don’t I?”

“No!”

“You don’t feel safe with me.”

That one’s like a punch to the gut. You can’t tell what’s worse, the words themselves or the way he’s looking at you. That one hurts the most, because it’s true.

“...No,” you say after a moment, then steel yourself. “You’re right. I don’t. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Sanji, please.”

“Don’t you plead now,” Sanji says, his tone hardening. “Don’t you put me in this position, Y/n.”

“I don’t have a choice, Sanji. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Why?”

“Sanji!”

“Why?!”

“Because last time I trusted someone with this, I lost everything!” you blurt out. “I was institutionalized, okay?! Locked up! Is that what you wanted to know? Are you satisfied now?”

Your words echo in the silence that follows. He stares, jaw dropped slightly. You’re shaking, for real this time, and the words pour from you like a dam unblocked.

“You don’t know how humiliating it is, Sanji, to have the strings on all your clothes cut off, to be given only felt tip pens to write with, to not have doors, to have a scheduled bed time. To have all your choices taken away.” Your vision blurs as you continue. “I couldn’t do anything. It was like a prison. The other patients didn’t give a shit. The staff definitely didn’t give a shit. And all the while, they drained me of all my savings, until I didn’t have a single berri to my name. Then they kicked me to the curb. The one who reported me didn’t want to be associated with a crazy person. Neither did the rest of my friends. I was homeless. I had no one and nothing! That’s why I fled my home island, and that’s why I tried to dine and dash at Baratie.”

Sanji looks taken aback. He blinks quickly, then stares down at the deck. “What would you have me do, then?”

“This is supposed to be private!” You cover your face, fighting back tears. “You need–you need to keep your mouth shut and mind your business! I don't want anyone’s ‘support.’ You were never supposed to know.” You take a shaky breath and lower your hands. “If you really care, you’ll keep it to yourself, you’ll forget what you saw, and if you tell anyone…I won’t stick around to make the same mistake twice.”

Despite what you say, you already know it’s too late. There’s no going back, and now that he knows, it’s only a matter of time until you’re left behind. You bite your tongue to keep from crying at the thought, but you have to bite harder this time. The tears keep threatening to spill anyway, until you’re tasting iron.

Sanji is quiet. He pulls out his cigarettes and lights one, not speaking until after he takes a drag. “…Do you regret joining the crew?”

“Joining the Straw Hats was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you say honestly. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“But you aren’t happy, are you?”

“Multiply something by zero and you get zero, right?” You look away, guilt eating at you. Experience tells you that no one wants to hear this. “I’m not trying to sound dramatic. I just… I don’t work right.”

“I don’t think you’re being dramatic.”

For some reason, that, more than anything else, breaks you. The first tears slip past your defense. You say nothing, lower lip trembling.

Sanji takes another slow drag of his cig and exhales away from your direction. “I don’t know how I missed it.”

“I do,” you say. “At the hospital, they…” the words die in your throat as the memories surge forward. “They…they…” You can’t finish, but tears begin streaming down your cheeks. You shake your head. “Let’s just say, after that, I learned not to ever give anything away. Never again.”

“They did something to you.”

You barely nod. Already you feel yourself slipping into a flashback, feel the nurses holding you down and the needle jabbing into your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” Sanji says, taking a step toward you, and then another, until he can reach out and gently touch your forearm. The touch brings you back, grounding you so that you’re back in the present. But the gentle action, and Sanji’s soft expression, only makes the tears flow faster, makes your nose run. You shrug.

“It must have been scary.”

Slowly, you nod again.

“Will you answer my question, Y/n? Please?” Sanji asks. “Please, I need to know you’re safe around guns. Will you at least tell me that much?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and wipe your face. When you answer, you look him in the eye so he knows you’re telling the truth. “Yeah. I’m… Yeah.”

Sanji sighs, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank goodness. Okay. Can I ask you something else?” At your nod, he goes on. “How long have you been feeling like this? Before the hospital, I mean.”

“...Since I was young,” you sniff. “I’ve been ‘coping’ on and off for years.”

Sanji sticks his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Can I see?”

“What?” The question catches you so off-guard that you stop crying. “I’m–I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going to show Chopper, right?” Sanji says. “So–”

“You’re not gonna tell him?” you cut him off, surprised.

“I haven't decided yet,” he admits. “I don’t want to go against your wishes, Y/n. But I don’t know the extent of the damage. Just… Just, let me see?”

“No.” You’re shocked at his audacity. What’s he thinking? Of course you can’t do that.

“I won’t judge. I swear, I just want to know you’re okay,” Sanji says.

“You can say that, but…” you rub your arm. “Be real. You’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“It won’t change how I think of you.”

“It will!” you shout, then lower your voice. “It will, forever. There’s no going back once that line is crossed and you see me for what I really am.”

He frowns. “Which is?”

“A freak!” 

Neither of you say anything for a moment. Then you shake your head again. “I’m sorry, Sanji. But a guy like you–strong, handsome, confident–you wouldn’t understand.”

Sanji gets a weird look on his face, one you’ve never seen in all the years you’ve sailed with him. He looks to the side, then down, then up. His drags on his cigarette become long and harsh, finishing it in three breaths. He lights another, making a face. Then he nods to himself, like he’s decided something.

“Okay,” Sanji says. “There’s something I want you to see.”

You frown. When Sanji puts his hands on the hem of his pants, you frown deeper. He pauses.

“Um. Just trust me, okay? I promise I’m not doing anything weird–just wait a sec.”

He slides down his pants, and you have no idea what’s going through his head until his pale upper thighs are exposed. Then, finally, you understand, and you cover your mouth in shock.

Both of his upper thighs are covered in a myriad of scars. There must be over a hundred, clustered just above where shorts would hide them. Most of them are big, inches long and criss-crossed with each other. A few are keloid scars, thick and raised above the skin.

Your stare could burn a hole through his flesh. Slowly, you look up at him. Sanji has a faint blush on his face, looking sheepish.

“Guys like me can be freaks too,” he says simply.

You’re in complete disbelief. You keep looking back from the scars to his face. It’s too much to process–where would you even begin? Sanji, of everyone on the crew–Sanji’s like you? Brave, unwavering, gallant Sanji? Of everyone? When you don’t respond, he speaks again.

“See, Y/n? You’re not alone.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes again. You find your voice. “Yours are old.”

“Yeah. I got lucky. Had someone’s support.” Sanji smiles slightly, in a way that he only does when thinking of…

“Zeff?”

“Yeah. He eventually found out.” Sanji laughs nervously. “At first he freaked out. Thought I was using kitchen knives. After he calmed down, he told me…he told me he wouldn’t abandon me over that, because what kind of parent would that make him?” His expression wavers like he’s trying not to cry.

You, on the other hand, start crying again the moment you hear the word “abandoned.” You realize that’s precisely how you felt back then.

Sanji grabs your shoulders so you look up at him. “You’re not getting kicked off of the crew.”

“...I’m not?” you ask, voice small and pathetic.

“No. I promise.” Sanji squeezes your shoulders reassuringly. “No one else needs to know. But, Y/n, I’m not going to leave you to deal with this alone. So, will you show me?”

“...You won’t tell anyone?”

“I won’t. I swear on my honor. This stays between us.” He lowers his arms.

You bite your lip, sniffing. You shut your eyes, mustering up your courage, and nod. Sanji waits patiently as you breathe slowly to steady yourself. You hesitate before peeling back your sleeve, exposing your upper arm.

He’s quiet as he inspects the damage. Unlike his old scars, yours have yet to finish healing, still in the scabbing stage. A ladder of thin, dark red lines decorate your upper arm and shoulder. You look between your cuts and his scars. Yours aren’t as deep as what Sanji had done, which you feel weirdly ashamed about.

Sanji’s hand comes up, hovering over your cuts like he’s going to touch them, but then he rests it on your forearm instead. Despite the clear evidence that he won’t judge you, you’re still self-conscious, so you break the silence.

“The scabs catch on my sleeves,” you say awkwardly.

Sanji nods. “I had to bandage my thigh so it wouldn’t bleed through while I was working. It always felt so…”

“Stupid,” you both say. Then you both smile at the unexpected camaraderie. 

“What’s really stupid is how long I went thinking I was the only one,” you say, “and all this time, you…” You gesture vaguely.

“Can you do something for me?” Sanji asks. “Whatever you’re using–I’m not going to take anything from you. But in exchange, I want you to talk to me. We can talk in the galley, when it’s just us two.”

“I don’t know how to talk about it.”

How could you, after what had been done to you? After everyone you used to trust turned their backs? Knowing that Sanji understood you couldn’t fix the mental scars left behind by others. You could try to rationalize it, but just thinking about discussing the past made your throat dry up.

“If I told you about mine first, would it make you more comfortable?” Sanji offers.

You balk. “You–you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind, if it means helping you.” Sanji says earnestly. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge. How could I? We’re the same.”

Something broken inside you changes right then. Deep engravings fill with gold like broken pottery, sealing some of the cracks in your soul. Unmasked and exposed, Sanji sees into you, and he doesn’t waver or turn. He smiles, gently and softly and lovingly. Your eyes fill with fresh tears.

Sanji holds out his pinky finger. “Freaks?”

You smile from ear to ear, even as the tears start flowing again, and lock pinkies with him. “Freaks.”

So caught up in the moment are the two of you that neither one notices when Zoro appears until it’s too late.

He’s further down the deck, but standing right under one of the ship’s lights, so you can see him smile. “Hey, you guys are–” he starts, then notices Sanji’s pants. His smile instantly turns to a look of indignation, then rage. “What the hell?!”

Sanji scrambles to pull up his pants as Zoro charges.

“What the hell are you doing to Y/n, you creep?!” Zoro yells.

You hurriedly pull down your sleeve and move in front of Sanji, holding your arms up. “Wait a sec, Zoro!” 

“I-It’s not what it looks like!” Sanji cries.

Zoro screeches to a halt right in front of you, but then stretches over your shoulder to snarl at Sanji. “You better have a good explanation for this, shitty cook!”

You grab Zoro’s arms to hold him back. Not that you could ever hope to overpower him, but you know he’s too brotherly toward you to push you out of the way. “Zoro!”

“What?” Zoro turns his focus on you, “what did he do? I’ll kick his ass for you, Y/n.”

“No, that’s–”

Sanji interjects, “I didn’t–”

“We were…”

Zoro relaxes somewhat, now frowning and looking at both of you weirdly. “What exactly were you guys doing?”

Really, being in the middle of the night, it’s not a good look. You and Sanji are both caught off guard. Fumbling hard, you both speak at once.

“I was looking at a fungal infection!” you say.

“They were removing a tick!” Sanji says at the same time.

Both of you glance at each other.

“Tick,” you correct.

“Fungal,” Sanji says.

Zoro blinks. “A fungal tick?”

You both just nod.

Zoro stares between you two, then relaxes. “Oh... Okay. Good of you to not wake Chopper.” He nods and turns, leaving the two of you to it.

So flooded with relief are you that it’s staggering. You mentally thank the stars that Zoro is a simple and straightforward type of guy.

You and Sanji watch Zoro walk away. Once he’s out of earshot, you both look at each other.

Then you both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, clutching your chest.

Sanji wipes away a tear. “That was close, huh?”

The laughter dies down into giggles before you calm yourselves, grinning at each other. Then you’re both throwing your arms around the other in a tight embrace, squeezing like you’ve never been hugged before in your lives. You bury your face in Sanji’s chest, he rests his head on yours. Your fingers dig into the other’s clothing, soaking in the warmth and the comfort that you could only get from someone who truly understood. You stay like that for a few minutes, quiet, close, and held.

“Are you sure?” you whisper after a minute. “That you want to deal with this? With me? What if I never get better?”

“Nothing’s set in stone but the poneglyphs,” Sanji replies, running a hand over your head so you look up at him. “Our future hasn’t been determined.”

“Our future?”

“You and me and the rest of the crew. There’s still time to grow, and to change.” He holds the back of your head tenderly.

“When does that time run out?” you ask, uncertain.

“It doesn’t.” Sanji smiles down at you. “As long as we’re alive, there’s another chance. That opportunity is always there.”

You smile back, then press your face into his chest again. Sanji squeezes you tighter.

“Tomorrow,” you mumble into his shirt. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m tired.”

“I bet.”

“I never want to hide from you again.”

You feel Sanji kiss the top of your head. “And I never want to make you cry again.”

“I want to tell you everything.”

“I’ll listen.”

You both stay like that for a while longer, each second spent there healing something within yourselves.

It will take weeks to figure out how to talk about your troubles. When you’re up for it, you talk in the galley as Sanji cooks, you helping him out as usual with prep and cleanup. It’s even longer before Sanji learns everything. In the interim, you become the only Straw Hat to learn of Sanji’s past before he ever gets a wedding invite.

Like worn muscles rebuilding, like bone regrowing stronger, the scars you’ve revealed to each other, both physical and mental, strengthen your bond more than anything else ever could.

"let it out, let me in, take a hold of my hand / there's nothing like another soul that's been cut up the same" -Handwritten, The Gaslight Anthem

[leohtttbriar]

For the character ask game: Seven of Nine and Kira Nerys

seven of nine:

How I feel about this character

how i "feel about" seven can be compared, in the most lateral yet essentially unrelated way, to how i feel about baking. or maybe hercule poirot. there's a fussiness to her that reminds me of people who follow the recipe exactly every time and, if one were to hypothetically say she's american, she'd be one of the few hobby-baker americans in the country converting all teaspoons/cups/etc. into metric units, definitely be using a scale. at the same time, she's not a "fine" cuisine eater. she's like the hercule poirot of jello-cake. or tater-tot casserole. the midwestern stereotype of making nearly everything from a box. still, she manages to be very fussy about her box food jello-cake.

bc like, i think the way she thinks about things isn't exactly uncreative. i think she finds comfort in the idea that there's a correct way to do things while respecting, in her frankness, the individual elements of a composition. she's attentive and she's pragmatic which makes her a refreshing character on screen. her relationship with idealism is less about an abstract ongoing-ness, exemplified by the voyager's crew continued will to explore (which she protests), and more about considering the completeness of the telos of survival. what further purpose can she give herself, in this moment? ("the moment" being end of season 4, for me--haven't watched more yet). it gives her approach to people and her projects and her personal narrative a bracing forthrightness. thus, she makes me feel like there's a bit of creative glory in a box cake and tater-tots 🙏

All the people I ship romantically with this character

when it comes to shipping, the ships i'm most interested in (interested enough to write/read fic about) are mostly just pairings where i think the two characters would have a conversation i personally want to write/read about them having. so, of course, who i ship with seven: b'elanna. and neelix, i think? if seven and kes had talked, that would've been fascinating.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

non-romantic OTP is neelix. i think they're different kinds of ridiculous and wouldn't enable each other like tuvok would seven, as good friends do.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i'm not sure what the unpopular opinions about seven are or where my opinions would fall on either side of the line? and unpopular in what crowd? i imagine it's an unpopular opinion among certain annoying fans that i think the actor never should've been forced to wear that costume. maybe?? among other kinds of fans it's unpopular that i think that she's wrong and janeway is right and that exploring while voyager travels home is important.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon.

haven't seen all canon with seven yet, but what i wish would happen is that she talks to b'elanna more. possibly about how the body can be made into a political landscape.

kira nerys:

How I feel about this character

i feel about kira a lot of "i want to protect her" which i know is strictly irrational, not least because she is a fictional character. watching the show, i got stuck in my head about how several narrative patterns in kira's story throughout the series showcased her willingness to give herself to something outside of her and the show doesn't really seem to be aware that pattern exists. i'm still as frustrated by the jokey pregnancy plot as i was when i first watched it and that sort of just added on to other more deliberate stories where she, like, decided she should definitely die for the possible possibility of the "children of time" or where she decided to let a non-causal alien/god enter her body to wage lethal battle or where she decided to embrace a caste and career she had no personal connection to and had to be saved from without any time in the episode for productive self-choice.

while that's all causing tension in my head, though, i think kira is such a wildly intelligent character in her story. the way she has to contend, on and on and on, with so many people she disagrees with, who see her as either victim or militant, navigating the many conflicting politics of her own planet while navigating on top of that the federation representatives and the consistent politicking from the oppressing people who her people had just pushed out, all while her new commander (and friend) is also a significant religious figure in the religion in which she is very devout. kira handling all this, and it is a struggle at times, obviously, is an example of person who is able to understand and absorb competing narratives while still securing her own perspective, drawing her lines in the sand. which impresses me, as an audience member.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

she's got a lot of interesting pairings tbh. odo, keiko, winn, sisko, julian, ezri. i think jadzia appeals the most to me though for a couple reasons: 1) jadzia is protective of kira in the instances that i want to be protective of kira, and jadzia's values would protect kira from the things i also want to protect kira from (and vice versa, too), an aspect which i think has come across in all the fics i've written for them, and 2) jadzia and kira are ride-or-die friends while being extremely different people which means there's just a depth of tension and questions to explore anytime you think about them.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

also her and jadzia.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i think i've expressed a few already? well, the pregnancy thing. hate it for many reasons i've talked about here.

couple others? not sure if these are unpopular. kira is an extremely ruthless person and is comparable to winn in this respect; kira's religion/religious beliefs should've been been interrogated way more throughout the series by her, especially when they lead her to so thoroughly deny herself. i mean the bajoran religion in general is so crazy to me. the gods are real aliens. this should've affected all the allegorizing about faith in the show. but it did not. kira just has a lot of moments with odo that are like "faith is faith, what can i say" and he grumbles in opposition until the moment she almost dies while being possessed in a final boss fight, at which point he's like "she for sure would've wanted this, no coercive anything here."

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon.

i've tossed a few ideas out already of things i would change/add. if i had to choose, i'd say i wish she could've helped sisko build the star-sail ship. not necessarily go with him and jake bc that episode works really well with sisko and jake together--maybe she could've been conveniently trimming the sails or something while they had their moments--but i wish she had been more involved with that story.