#mods if you see this I’ve been a good girl I can be trusted with discord privileges

[flittingthroughthepines]

They should let me back in the hdg discord

[triplexdoublex]

Worth The Wait

Pairings: Rook X Reader

Warnings/Tags: Y/N is a virgin, loss of virginity, friends to lovers

“Yo, Kells. Can I talk to you for a minute, man?” Rook asks, walking into the kitchen where Colson’s getting himself a snack from the fruit bowl on the counter. 

“Of course dawg, what’s up?” He answers, picking up an orange. “Want one?”

Rook holds up his hand and Colson tosses it to him. He catches it but instead of peeling it to enjoy as Colson is, he just places it in front of him on the counter; he has something on his mind.

“So you know my friend Y/N?” Rook starts.

“The one you have a thing for.” Colson states it as fact, popping an orange segment into his mouth. He knows Rook way too well. 

“You’re not helping!” Rook snaps. “But yeah that plays into my predicament,” he admits.

“I fucking knew it!” Colson boasts proudly. “Wait, what predicament?”

“If you’d shut the fuck up for five seconds, I’m trying to tell you!” 

“Damn, dawg, alright.” Colson hops up to sit on the edge of the counter to listen to his friend.

“Well, apparently she’s a virgin and —“

“Like an Anal virgin?” Kells interrupts.

“For the love of God, can you think with your brain and not your dick for once!” Rook exclaims, getting frustrated; his face twisting up into an annoyed expression. “No dude, a regular-ass, virgin!”

“Heeehee you said ‘ass virgin’,” Colson snickers immaturely. “But seriously, there’s no way! She’s fucking smokin’! How? Why?” Colson asks, in disbelief.

“ I dunno, I froze when she told me …. she said she wants ME to be the one to take her virginity!”

“Oh shit! That’s tight dude.” Colson puts his hand up for a high-five.

“I’m not tryna celebrate here, I’m trying to ask for advice.” Rook admits, smacking Colson’s hand down.

 “What do you need advice for? You know how to fuck! She's the virgin here, not you, dawg,” Colson laughs. “So when you doing it?”

“When?!” Rook exclaims in frustration. “I haven’t even decided if I am yet, and you’re not helping!”

“I’m sorry man, but, you lost me at, trying to decide.. if you ..should... fuck a.. hott girl.. who.. literally.. asked you to fuck her?” Colson says, confused, tracing a finger through the air as if he’s trying to solve an invisible math equation.

“Forget it dude, I should've known you were the wrong person to talk about this with,” Rook scoffs. “Where’s Mod?” 

******

“Aww that’s so sweet, she trusts you bro,” Mod says, placing a hand on Rook's shoulder, after Rook found him and explained the situation to him. 

“Thank you, that’s the point I was trying to get to with Kells; she obviously trusts me and I don’t want to like betray her or whatever by not admitting my feelings first, but I also don’t want to fuck up our friendship, by telling her my feelings.”

“I think you gotta tell her, dude.” Mod suggests “Even if it means she changes her mind about you taking her virginity. But I think your friendship will be okay; like I said she obviously trusts you and has an important connection with you or she wouldn’t have even asked for you to be the one. She chose you for a reason.”

“ Yeah, man, you’re right. It’s the right thing to do.” Rook agrees. “We’re supposed to go out for dinner tonight and then go back to her place. I still wanna take her out though. I’ll tell her during dinner.”

****************

“ Hey, you alright? You seem unusually quiet.” You ask Rook over dinner. “Nervous,” you tease him playfully, poking him in the arm. “If anyone should be nervous it’s me, silly! But I know I’m in good hands, you're the only person I feel I can trust my body with. It’s like ever since I went through puberty yearsss ago, every guy I’ve ever interacted with since had just been trying to get into my pants — every guy but you. I can see through all their intentions, with their lavish gifts, sweet talk, swindling and manipulation. I know they’re only after one thing, so I’ve never let myself trust a single man with my body. But you —  you’re different. You’ve always been there for me, always respected me, listened to me, hung out with me ; and not because you expected my body in return, but because you're genuinely a good guy. But—“  you stop to take a deep breath. “I have to be honest with you — and I completely understand if you change your mind about tonight after I say this — but I think I’ve fallen for you.”

“Oh, thank god!” Rook sighs, almost laughing with relief; a huge weight lifted off his chest. “I’ve been so quiet because I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell you that I’ve fallen for you,” he reaches out for your hand “and I didn’t want to go through with tonight unless I told you first— I couldn’t betray your trust like that, and the more you talked me up, the more guilty I felt about having not told you yet—“

“Hey—“ you smile, breaking  him from his ramblings. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“Hell yes,” he stands, opening his wallet to throw a hundred dollar bill on the table as you tug him towards the exit. “That should cover it.”

*****************

His lips on your neck feel like heaven, each tender kiss a ‘little death’ of its own. “Is this okay?” He breathes against your flesh as one of his tattooed hands slips under your bra— both of your shirts lost long before the two of you even made it to your bed.

“Mmm, perfect,” you respond breathily, with your head tipped  back and chest arching off the bed into his touch as you reach behind you removing your bra. 

“No, these are perfect!” He smiles, cupping both your breasts— one in each tatted up hand.  He kisses down your chest, pausing momentarily to lick between the valley of your fleshy mounds his hands are encompassing, before continuing downward, stopping only when he gets to the waistband of your pants. “Did you .. um want me to— “ he swallows thickly the words ‘eat you out’ caught in his throat.

“Let’s save that for another day,” you smirk, sitting up and fumbling with his belt . “You have a condom? You ask, unzipping his pants. “Sorry,” you laugh, apologizing  for your eagerness. “I’ve waited way too long for this.”

“No worries at all,” he smirks with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, I got one, he reaches into his back pocket pulling out his wallet. He opens it, retrieving the gold foil packet and brings it to his mouth. Gently he takes hold of the edge with his teeth as he quickly sheds his pants and boxers, tossing them both to the floor along with his wallet. He blushes, noticing you taking in the sight just below his Marilyn Monroe tattoo, as you quickly strip out of your remaining clothing as well. 

“Let me—” you boldly reach for the condom packet, plucking it from between his teeth. Cautiously you tear it open, and remove the slippery sheath, silently berating yourself as you struggle to remember the right orientation to roll it on. 

“Other way,” he corrects you, as you bring it to his tip. “Turn it around.”

“Sorry,” your face flushes red. “I’ve only done this once and it was on a banana in like 9th grade health class,” you laugh, flipping it over.

“That’s perfectly fine,” he cracks a smile,  looking down at you. “Mmmm, shit!” he hums under his breath, feeling you roll it down his hardened  length with a few quick strokes. With his ink adorned fingers he parts your shy legs, getting a good look at you for the first time. “Fuck, look at you all ready for me,” he admires your wetness while softly stroking your already engorged clit with his thumb; the excited bud peeking out past your folds. You let out a small whine at the sensation and Rook’s eyes flick to yours, watching as they flutter with every swipe of his thumb. “Ready? He pauses to ask.

“Yeah,” you coyly pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

There’s a split second before either of you make the next move where you’re lost in each other’s eyes; your entire friendship having led you two to this very moment. The trance is broken when you both quickly go in for a kiss at the same time, bumping heads.

“Sorry!” You echo each other with a laugh, rubbing at your heads.

“Let’s try this again,” he snickers. 

With his cock in his hand, his bottom lip ghosts against yours in a breathy kiss while he slowly enters you. Your tongues write unspoken words in each other’s mouths as he sets an unhurried and gentle rhythm, remembering it was your first time.

“I appreciate you being gentle with me but, you won’t hurt me I promise. I may be a virgin but I definitely own my fair share of toys,” You whisper seductively in his ear before allowing your tongue to slither amongst the serpents of his Medusa tattoo.

“Oh. Oh shit, okay” he smirks, quickening his pace to match his rapid heartbeat.

“Fuck, John, just like that!” You wrap your legs around him, your heels digging into the flesh of his ass, briefly anchoring him deep inside you.

“God!” he lets out a shrill whine. “I never thought in a million years I’d get to hear you say my name like that.”

“And I never thought I would ever hear you whine like that,” you tease. 

“Shut up,” he laughs, kissing you before you can notice the embarrassed hue of his cheeks; the playful banter so typical of your friendship. 

Your lips and bodies smack against each other,  hungrily chasing the sweet peak of release that’s starting to mount up in you both. You arch your hips off the bed, meeting his thrusts half-way, increasing the depth of his penetration.

Using his neck as leverage you pull yourself up; your nails leaving halfmoon tracks on his nape. “So close, John. Don’t stop.” You press your forehead to his.

“I’m not stopping ‘til you cum,” he huffs into your mouth as he kisses you with the passion and focus of an Olympian.

“Almost — oh shit, yes! Yes! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You cry out in euphoric bliss; the orgasm far more intense than the ones you’ve had solo.

It’s not long before his own fluid desire surges down the length of his shaft, filling the condom. You momentarily ride out your highs together before he pulls out and disposes of the condom in the small waste basket beside your bed.

“I hope that lived up to your expectations,” he says out of breath with a smile, as he flops back down next to you. 

“It was perfect,” you return the smile as you settle into an embrace. “Definitely worth the wait.”

Taglist: @taytayize123

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is kind of an introductory/fluff chapter if you will :)

Story summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl, gets pulled into the world of rock and roll on a fateful night at the Marquee Club in London when she experiences the musical phenomenon of the Five Live Yardbirds. She grows up fast, navigating her way through the downfall of The Yardbirds, the legendary skyrocket of Led Zeppelin, era-defining decadence instigated by the ‘60s and ‘70s mindset of free love and personal gratification, and finding the courage to express how she fell deeply in love with one of modern music’s greatest guitarists.

Author’s notes (from Molly of rebel-without-a-zeppelin): Hi everyone! A little disclaimer on my part: this is the first story I’ve ever shared for public consumption. I’ve been toying with this idea in my mind for a very long time now, and I’ve finally mustered up the courage to share it with you all. I hope you like it. I am incredibly honored to collaborate with Syd on this project; this is truly our baby, as it has a very long, detailed, intricate plot, so saddle up for lots (and lots) of drama! This is also a sloooowwwww burn, like really, really slow lol. Over the course of the story, please feel free to send me your theories and comments; I would absolutely love to read them. Please enjoy, and happy reading!

---------

3 May 1965

The sound of a car horn beeped incessantly from the front of Y/N’s house. Dropping her backpack down on her bedroom floor with an annoyed huff, she sprinted down the steps. She never did get enough time to prepare, and it was no different today. With her friend Carolyn in tow, Y/N made a beeline for the front door, the click-clack of her Oxford shoes pounding across the hardwood floor. Y/N’s mum, who nonchalantly strolled out of the laundry room with an armful of freshly washed and folded bath towels, leant against the doorframe.

“Now remember Y/N: no drinking, no drugs, no sex. No going home with strange musician guys, nor are you allowed to go to their hotel,” her mum instructed calmly, knowing she’d receive an eye roll from the girl. Her stern expression at home on her gracefully-aged face, the girls receive the speech they get every time they go out.  “You too, C. Even though I’m not your mother, I still worry about your safety.”

Both Y/N’s mum and dad had a very protective instinct over their eldest daughter, just like their other three children. Even at Y/N’s healthy age of seventeen, she longed for the freedom and trust that her older brother had gained at her age.

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Carolyn replied with a little laugh.

“Mum! This is literally the fourth time I’ve been to a Yardbirds gig, and nothing bad has happened,” Y/N huffed. Her mum raised her eyebrows.

Lillian, Y/N’s little sister, walked into the foyer and surprised Y/N with a big, tight hug around her waist. Y/N gasped at the sudden contact, but chuckled when she realized it was her younger sister, and reciprocated the hug.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Y/N. Boys are icky. And stupid!” Lillian said in a whiny voice, her face muffled by being buried in Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N ruffled her sister’s muss of dirty blonde waves affectionately, rubbing her back to soothe her worries. “I promise, I will come back perfectly fine! I won’t let any boys mess with me, Lil,” Y/N said with a smile, “And when I come back, I’ll tell you everything that happened.”

Lillian gazed up at Y/N with a similar smile, her small teeth shining a bright, pearly white and her chin resting on the taller girl’s stomach. “Okay,” she said, content, before releasing from Y/N with a stuffed animal tucked under her arm.

“Where’s Charlie?” Y/N asked, hoping she could say goodbye to her younger brother before she left.

“I think he’s riding around the neighborhood on his bike with his friends,” Y/N’s mum replied with a shrug. Y/N felt a little disappointed, but she figured she’d talk to him tomorrow at breakfast about her night out.

Thomas, Y/N’s older brother, continued to honk the horn rather obnoxiously, growing quite impatient. It’s a wonder the neighbors weren’t at arms, knocking on their door. He was forced by his parents to be Y/N and Carolyn’s chauffeur to the Marquee Club in London.

“We have to go, or else Tommy will have my head,” Y/N said as she started to open the front door.

“Wait!” her mum said, sloppily placing the towels down on a nearby counter to dash to the door and give Y/N a hug and a kiss on the head goodbye. Finally pulling away her weathered hands flew to Y/N’s shoulders, and gripping them firmly, she continued, “Be good. Love you.”

“I know, I will. Love you too,” Y/N smiled, before dashing down the steps and to the passenger seat of the car. Carolyn was in quick pursuit, following her to the car and taking a seat in the back.

“It’s about time,” Tommy huffed impatiently, tapping his fingertips on the top of the steering wheel as he put the transmission into drive.

“Sorry. Mum was giving me and C a safety brief,” Y/N replied apologetically.

“Why are you two still in school uniforms?” he snorted, shifting to look over at the girls; their studious appearance of white oxford shirts, sweater vests, plaid kilts, white knee socks, and smart oxford shoes would be quite out of place among the audience at the show.

“No time to change, just like usual,” she replied, turning on the radio, soft melodies pouring out at a low volume.

The three drove in silence, except for the sound of the radio playing, until Carolyn had dozed off on the somewhat lengthy car ride. Occasional small talk between Y/N and her brother permeated the quiet that fell over the group, but it picked up when they were only a few blocks away from the venue.

“You gotta stay safe in there, Y/N,” Tommy said, looking straight ahead. His teeth clamped down sharply on his bottom lip: a dead giveaway to the nerves he must have been feeling.

“I know, Dad,” Y/N joked, punching him lightly across the shoulder. Her bright smile wavered and fell when she saw his grim expression.

“I’m serious, you know. I don’t want my sister being pestered by some wankers in a blues band.”

Y/N smirked at her brother’s sudden defensive behavior. “I can take care of myself. Trust me. This isn’t my first rodeo. You should’ve seen the first Yardbirds gig we went to. Utter chaos...” The tilt of her lips signalled that she was joking, and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

Carolyn, stretching with a grunt, had miraculously woken up just as Tommy pulled up to the front door of the Marquee. Glancing at the venue with awe dancing in their eyes, Y/N and Carolyn disembarked from the car, walking closer with the façade of calmness and competency.

“I’ll be back later to pick you girls up. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Tommy rolled his window down as he said this, winking playfully.

Y/N waved to her brother as Carolyn thanked him graciously for the ride. Arms linked, Y/N and Carolyn entered the famous Marquee. Nervousness and anticipation began to pool Y/N’s stomach as she was greeted by the decadent atmosphere of the club: the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hung in the air as her eyes were flashed by many people mingling about, dressed in typical mod clothing. Y/N and her friend looked at each other, feeling like aliens in their intelligent dress. They tactfully made their way through the crowd as they found their way to their usual spot, a small leather-upholstered booth set against the wall near the stage.

“Today might be the day, Y/N,” Carolyn said as they settled into their seats.

“I don’t know,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt, “the idea of that is both scary and exciting to me at the same time. We’ll just roll with the punches, I guess.”

“Which Yardbird do you have your eye on?”

Y/N smirked as she thought for a moment. “Hmm...I’m not sure. I guess they’re all pretty cute in their own way. What about you?”

“Yes, I agree. But I must admit, I do have a very soft spot for Chris Dreja.”

“I’ll pray for ya, C,” Y/N chuckled.

~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, backstage, five live Yardbirds were performing some pre-show rituals in the hopes of easing the preliminary anxiousness. Jeff, Keith, and Jim were peeking out the little sliver of curtain that allowed them to see their gathering audience.

“Look! It’s those two schoolgirls again!” Jeff pointed to the two teenage girls in school uniforms, chatting in their booth waiting for the show to begin. They were huddled together in conversation, legs daintily crossed as their faint giggles floated over to them. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the sound, though he recovered quickly, not wanting his bandmates to get any ideas.

“What’s wrong with that? They must like us,” Keith replied.

“I think they’re both really pretty, especially the one with the Y/H/C hair,” Jim pointed out, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah, maybe we should invite them backstage after the show… have a nice little chat,” Jeff winked at the singer and the drummer cheekily.

After taking a final glance at the two conversing girls, the three returned to the backstage area where Paul and Chris were. Jeff immediately enlisted Giorgio, their manager, to complete the agreed-upon mission. Jeff loosely draped an arm around Giorgio’s shoulder before bestowing the request as politely as possible. Not trying to be suspiciously polite, of course, because everyone in the band and its entourage were firsthand witnesses of Jeff’s temper and stubbornness. Yikes.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” Jeff said to Giorgio with a mischievous smile.

Giorgio rolled his eyes, knowing this “favor” would have to do with scouting girls from the audience. “What d’ya need, Jeff?” he sighed exhaustedly.

“Don’t complain, please,” Jeff deadpanned. “There are two pretty birds in the audience, wearing their school uniforms. They’ve been coming to our shows for a little bit now, and they seem nice—”

“You want me to bring them backstage after the show?” Giorgio interrupted, somehow telepathically knowing, by routine, what the guitarist’s request would be.

“You finish that sentence like you know what I’m about to say.”

“That’s because I do, Mr. Beck,” Giorgio retorted sarcastically, “this happens a lot more often than you think it does.”

“Whatever,” Jeff grumbled moodily, knowing he was right, before walking back to the group of musicians in preparation.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Carolyn continued to gossip happily about what was happening at school, not a care in the world. They felt the stares of older men in the club, who silently disapproved of their knee socks being scrunched by their ankles, because that wasn’t the “proper” thing to do. But they didn’t care. Who are they to judge?

Every teacher scolded girls at school who did the same thing, because they didn’t want their long legs to be “tempting” or “distracting” any boys. A bloody nuisance, is what it is.

The girls were snapped from their thoughts by the sound of a heavy guitar tone being blasted through the speakers in an opening riff. Their eyes were stapled, almost transfixed to the stage as they took in the five sharply-dressed men in front of them, singing their songs and playing their instruments.

As much as Carolyn enjoyed The Yardbirds and music in general, Y/N had a rather deep connection to it, odd enough as it was. She could play the piano fairly well, so she understood where these musicians were coming from cognitively and creatively. From what she’d read in magazines about current popular musicians, like The Yardbirds for example, she liked the same music they did. Y/N understood dynamics, tempo, tone, key, and musical notation, just like they did. Perhaps she’d be able to get into an intelligent musical conversation with at least one of them one day.

Two straight hours of hits, obscure songs, and blues covers from The Yardbirds’ catalogue were played for the Marquee Club patrons, hypnotizing its drunk and high onlookers with polished musicality and instrumentation.

As the final song concluded, both Y/N and Carolyn, unbeknownst to the other, felt a sinking feeling of disappointment that fell like a pit in their stomachs. They wouldn’t have the chance to meet the band. No one from the entity had approached them yet, and momentarily the five live Yardbirds would be exiting the stage for the night.

After they said their goodbyes and thanks to the crowd, they disappeared behind the curtain. The main lights of the club brightened to signal that the show was over, as the voices of all the patrons raised in rave of the spectacular show they had just witnessed.

Discouraged, but still in light spirits at what they had just seen, Y/N and Carolyn stood up from their seat and headed for the front door. Y/N expected her brother to be waiting in front; it was late, so might as well not make him wait longer than he needs to.

Y/N and Carolyn were merely a few feet from the door when Y/N felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around to see a man with a dark beard already baring a jovial tight-lipped grin at her, the girl was quite surprised, maybe a little weirded out, but she reciprocated the gesture as genuinely as she could.

“Hello sir, what can we do for you?” Y/N greeted, discreetly nudging Carolyn to help her out and become a united front with her in front of this stranger.

“Good evening ladies, I was sent by Mr. Jeff Beck to offer you an invitation backstage to hang out with the band.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and her face broke out into an obvious mad blush, much to her dismay. She was internally screaming. The Jeff Beck had spotted them in the crowd?! This had to be a dream.  Wait, this could be a complete drunken buffoon trying to trick them. Y/N remembered what her mother had said, and took the proper precautionary measure.

Y/N smiled in the most composed way she could. “Thank you for such a gracious invitation! Could I ask your name, if you don’t mind?”

“Giorgio Gomelsky, manager of The Yardbirds,” he replied, in a seemingly proud manner.

Okay, this was real. Y/N knew that Giorgio was definitely the manager’s name. She turned to Carolyn, who looked just as excited as she was.

“What are your names, dears?” Giorgio asked, pulling them out of their daze of what seemed like a fake reality.

“I’m Carolyn, and this is my friend Y/N,” Carolyn piped up, excited that she finally got an opportunity to speak to someone close to The Yardbirds.

She internally agreed to let Y/N handle the “diplomacy” part of the introduction, knowing that she was best at that. Carolyn knew her friend was quite shy, so she knew to step in when Y/N was starting to feel anxious. She noticed Y/N starting to fiddle with her fingers while talking to Giorgio in the most collected way she could muster; as excited as Y/N was, Carolyn knew she was growing very nervous.

“Well, it is certainly lovely to meet you both. So, what do you say? Would you like to meet the lads?”

After one final glance of excited mutual agreement, Carolyn replied, “Yes, we’d love to.”

Giorgio led the pair of girls back the way they came, through a sea of inebriated people, but this time through the backstage door. Y/N made an appoint to walk behind Carolyn, in an attempt to collect and relax herself. She was starting to sweat a little, her stomach doing flips and her hands becoming cold and clammy.

~~~~~~~~

“Our guests should be arriving any minute now,” Jeff said as he was placing his guitar back in its case.

Chris was standing and chatting with Paul in a corner when he turned around in surprise at the news. “Guests? What guests?”

“We had Giorgio invite two girls from the audience to come back here,” Jim replied, walking over to sit down in a metal folding chair.

“And why weren't we made aware of this?” Paul asked, as he walked to get another metal folding chair to place near Jim.

“It was their idea,” Keith replied, pointing two fingers between Jeff and Jim. Paul and Chris just nodded in recognition.

“I didn’t hear you disagree, Relf,” Jeff clapped back. He then told Chris and Keith to get some chairs for themselves and the two girls that would be walking through the door at any second.

Before Keith could respond, a couple knocks resounded in the room, signalling the arrival of the guests. Jacket lapels and ties were quickly straightened, even though each person was still glazed with quickly-drying sweat from the show they had just played, before the room fell unnaturally quiet as Giorgio opened the rather squeaky door.

The initial tension in the room that lasted a split second could be cut with a knife. Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, a cold sweat already running down her back, as five pairs of eyes landed on her, Carolyn, and Giorgio, warm smiles following suit.

She felt like internally combusting.

“Boys, this is Y/N,” Giorgio broke the momentary silence by introducing her, “and Carolyn.” Y/N smiled shyly and sent them a little wave, a dusty shade of pink seeping its way to her cheeks. Carolyn’s greeting was much more exuberant than Y/N’s, as she took the initiative to go over and shake all of their hands amiably. Y/N realized she had to follow her friend in order to make a good first impression.

Knowing that the boys wanted to spend time with the girls without being chaperoned, Giorgio left the room to attend to other business affairs.

Upon first glance, Y/N was the most beautiful girl that four of the five Yardbirds had ever seen. Perfect features, long legs, a calm, gentle, sweet demeanor… Just an absolutely angelic young woman; a vision.

Jeff had obviously recognized her beauty, from seeing her at multiple shows, but he thought she was way out of his league. He decided to focus on getting her to laugh and relax around them, because he noticed just how nervous she looked. She was turning pale right in front of his very eyes! Paul and Chris began to internally question themselves, how have I not seen this girl before? She is so gorgeous! Jim had been glancing at her sporadically throughout the show, soaking up her faraway presence. He noticed how her eyes glistened in childlike wonder as she watched them do what they did best: perform the Chicago blues.

“Well, it is very nice to meet you both,” Keith replied enthusiastically. “I’m Keith,” he alluded to himself, then pointing to the other members of the group while giving their names, “and this is Chris, Paul, Jeff, and Jim.”

“I mean, we know who you guys are, but it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Carolyn replied. Y/N nodded in agreement.

“Come and sit down! Make yourselves comfortable. We don’t bite,” Jeff joked, motioning to the open chairs. The girls smiled and accepted his invitation, Y/N taking a seat between Jeff Beck and Jim McCarty, while Carolyn took a seat between Keith Relf and Chris Dreja. The chairs were arranged in a circular formation, so each person could talk to the other with ease.

“Tell us about yourselves!” Paul initiated, “I think Y/N should go first though, because you haven’t said too much yet,” he laughed at the last part. Y/N giggled (a little too idiotically for her own liking), but she felt herself become starstruck at how her name sounded coming from one of their voices.

Y/N clenched her cold, clammy hands in her lap as a method to ease her anxiety before starting with a smile. “Well, I’m from Saint Albans. This is our fourth time, I believe, coming to see a Yardbirds gig. Carolyn and I came to see you with Eric Clapton once, and then this is the third time with Jeff.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I guess I see where your favor lies in terms of guitarists,” Jeff responded playfully.

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N laughed, “I will admit that I love what you’ve done with the body of work. Clapton was a blues purist, which I respect, and he’s great, but I think your playing is much more interesting and unorthodox.”

Paul, Jim, and Jeff all raised their eyebrows at Y/N’s comment. They were impressed with how she understood their musicality.

“Are you a musician?” Jim asked Y/N.

“Not in your sense of the word,” Y/N chuckled, “But I’ve been playing the piano for most of my life, so I understand music. Probably more than your average female audience member,” she added with a grin.

“That’s so cool! Are you classically trained, or is it just a hobby?”

“Classically trained,” Y/N admitted to Jim shyly.

“Oh wow, so you’re the real deal,” Jeff added.

“I’m not a professional, so I’d say no,” Y/N laughed.

“You probably know more about music than all five of us combined!” Paul said.

“Well, I know that you know much more about the blues than me!” Y/N answered playfully.

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Paul smiled at Y/N. She cursed herself in her mind for feeling weak at Paul’s simple sentiment, but tried to keep her composure as best she could.

The four of them, especially Jeff and Y/N, began to bond over their love for different musicians. Y/N expressed her love for Chet Atkins and his fingerpicking style, Scotty Moore’s lively soloing style, and Robert Johnson’s slide technique and open tunings, rendering the three men shocked at her knowledge on the subject. Y/N loved how easily Jeff could make her laugh, and how interested Paul and Jim were at whatever she had to say, significant or insignificant. Chris Dreja, who was in a little group with Keith and Carolyn, occasionally spaced out of his conversation to hear what Y/N had to say.

They bonded for about an hour and a half about everything and nothing, until Y/N abruptly realized that Tommy was probably waiting for a while outside for her and her friend. She apologized to the band profusely for such a sudden departure as she and Carolyn walked towards the door.

“Say you’ll come visit us again after the show?” Jeff called to Y/N as she turned towards him in the doorframe.

“Absolutely,” she smiled brightly.

---------

Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @y0uth--anasia @reincarnated70sbaby

[omorial]

AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC A

Just a note- I'm not autistic! I did this based on my own research and what I've learned from friends. I had someone read over it to make sure it wasn't being insensitive, so I hope anyone who reads likes this!

- Mod Zale

Mari loved her little brother!

Sunny was the light of her life, the center of it, and she cared about him so much. Even the things that some people might consider weird, or be mean about. Because those things made Sunny Sunny, and people who were mean about it were just bullies.

Like how he didn't talk much. People were mean about it, but Sunny just didn't like to talk, and who cares? He can still communicate, and it makes him happy! As long as he's comfortable, it didn't matter if he talked.

He also wore the same thing a lot, but that's just because it made him comfortable. Routine helped him, and if it helped, it was fine. Having a signature outfit was cool, too! Like you were a cartoon character!

He had favorite foods, too! Like steak! That was one of his favorites. He says some foods bother him and make him feel icky, so they don't make him eat those, because he should eat what makes him feel good! Eating is supposed to be fun!

As long as Sunny was happy, it didn't matter if he did things other people thought was weird. Those things made Sunny Sunny, and she loved him for him.

•••

Kel was excited!!

Hero said they had new neighbors, and he was finally taking Kel to meet them!! Hero said he hadn't taken him yet because they needed time to adjust, which was kind of weird, but whatever. He could make a new friend!

"Calm down, Kel, he hasn't met anyone else in town yet and his sister said he's nervous." Kel looked at Hero, pouting. Hero bent down, looking at Kel. "Also, I was told he doesn't like to talk much. So be nice to him, okay?"

Kel nodded. "Yeah! I'm super nice!"

Hero laughed again and Kel stuck his tongue out at him as he stood up.

He bounced in place as he waited for someone to answer the door, excited to meet someone new.

"Hey, Mari." Hero said, and Kel looked at the girl who answered the door. She must be the big sister! "This is my brother, Kel. How're you all settling in?"

"We're settling in well, Hero, thanks for asking." Mari turned to Kel, and he beamed up at her. "Hello, Kel! You should meet my little brother, Sunny! He's in our room upstairs right now, the door on the left, you can go up there if you want!"

"Hi!! Okay, cool! Nice to meet you!" Kel rushed out a response before sprinting into the house, giggles from Hero and Mari following him.

Kel rushed upstairs, almost tripping in his excitement. He made his way to the door he'd been directed to, barely remembering to knock before opening the door.

There was a boy sitting on one of the beds, probably Sunny, with short black hair. He was fidgeting with something, and didn't seem to notice that Kel was there. 

Kel knocked on the doorframe before walking into the room, waving slightly. "Uh, hi? Sunny, right?"

He still didn't seem to react so Kel walked further into the room, trying to get his attention. He walked up to the bed, and Sunny still didn't seem to register he was there. Kel bounced in place little before deciding to tap Sunny on the shoulder.

Sunny startled a little, looking up. 

Kel smiled sheepishly and waved again. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Uh- I'm Kel! I'm Hero's brother, you've met Hero right?"

Sunny looked at him for a second, before nodding. He grabbed a notebook off the nightstand beside the bed and Kel moved a little so he could see it better.

'I'm Sunny. Nice to meet you.'

"Hi Sunny! Uh-" Kel glanced around, eyes catching on the cube thing the other boy had been fidgeting with. "What's that?"

Sunny fidgeted with the pencil he was holding for a second before replying. 'It's a Rubix Cube. You have to solve the puzzle by getting the same color on all sides.'

"Oh, that's cool!" Kel looked around to see more things that looked akin to Rubix Cubes on one of the shelves set up in the room. "Do you collect them?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! Can you show me how to solve one?"

Sunny's eyes widened slightly and he nodded, moving some so Kel could sit beside him. Kel beamed.

•••

School had started, and Kel was excited because he and Sunny were in the same class. Sunny was fun, and liked talking to him, and he knew so much cool stuff! He was such a cool friend!!

Sunny seemed nervous, so Kel tried to send him silent support any way he could. He seemed to appreciate it, so it was a success!

It was lunch, and the two of them had sat down at a table. They'd both brought lunch, so they didn't have to wait in line! 

Kel started eating but stopped when he looked at Sunny, who was frowning at his food.

"Sunny? You okay?"

'... Fine. Mom just gave me Mari's lunch instead of mine.'

"Oh." Kel glanced at the pasta Mari took for lunch, then back to his pb&j sandwich, tilting his head. "Want mine? It's just a pb&j."

Sunny frowned more. 'Are you sure?'

"Totally, bud! You can have it, I don't mind."

They switched food and the issue was averted, lunch going smoothly after that.

•••

Basil fidgeted with his bag, looking nervously at the friends Aubrey was introducing him to. It wasn't that he didn't think they'd be nice! He trusted Aubrey! It's just- he was nervous.

The boy in orange- Kel, right? -smiled before speaking. "Hey Basil! Nice to meetcha! I like your bag, the flowers are cool!"

Basil flushed, stuttering out a thank-you as the two older kids- Mari and Hero -said hi as well.

The last one, Sunny, waved a little. He was wearing short sleeves, which confused Basil because it was kind of cold out.

Sunny held out a notebook in front of him, and his eyes widened as he took it.

'I don't like wearing long sleeves a lot. It feels weird.'

"Oh!" Basil gripped his bag, handing the notebook back to Sunny. "Sorry it was obvious I was wondering! I- I didn't mean to be rude."

Sunny put the notebook in front of him again, and he read it.

'It's alright, I don't mind. It's nice to meet you. Flowers are pretty cool.'

Basil looked at Sunny, eyes wide. 

"Uh- okay. Thanks! Your notebook is pretty cool." Basil looked at the drawings on the cover. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! You must be really good at art."

Sunny wrote something down and Basil read it.

'Um- I guess. Thanks, though. It's fun.'

Basil smiled a little. This was seeming okay.

•••

Sunny closed the door to the bathroom, pulling at his hair. His eyes stung.

His wrist, his fingers, everything hurt. He couldn't do this- it hurt.

He wiped at his eyes, sliding down against the door as he tried to calm down. It just- it was too much. Mari was pushing him too much. It hurt.

He pulled at his hair again, trying to hold back his frustrations as the crying got worse.

He didn't want to play the violin anymore.

It hurt.

•••

Sunny had collections.

He had, rubix cubes, and stuffed animals, and he had so many of them.

It was fun. It gave him something to focus on. And he liked them.

The stuffed animals were comforting, and soft. The rubix cubes were fun to fidget with, and it was fun to figure out how to solve them, too.

Drawing was also fun. It was fun to do, and he could do it in bis own way, just for fun.

He could draw his friends, and draw out his frustrations, and it helped.

Collecting things helped.

[m-y-fandoms]

Fuyuhiko x reader -  Fuyuhiko’s S/O saves his sister from being killed by Sato

Request: congrats on the blog!! i really like your writing!! could i request fuyuhiko's s/o protecting natsumi from being killed by sato?

Of course! I love Fuyuhiko actually, he just barely missed my top five favorite DR characters list, definitely top 10. Warnings: blood, violence, spoilers for the Danganronpa 3 anime and Super Danganronpa 2, reader’s gender not specified  - Mod Kokichi

     “See ya, babe. Don’t be late after last period today, I got some shit to handle for my dad as soon as I drop you off at work,” Fuyuhiko spoke lazily, a nudge on your shoulder to get your attention again.

     “Yeah, ‘course!” You smiled as he leaned in and pecked you on the cheek, routinely, like he had every morning for the past few years. “See ya, ‘Hiko!” He nodded, sauntering off with books under his arm and his free hand in the pocket of his slacks. “Bye, Peko!” You bowed your head to the swordswoman who followed diligently behind your boyfriend, nodding her acknowledgment to you. You sighed, watching him disappear into the entrance of the main wing of Hope’s Peak Academy. Your eyes glossed over dreamily, lingering on him. Was that a new cologne on him today? Maybe he was wearing his uniform a little neater than usual this morning…

     “Let’s go, fuckin’ space cadet!” A shove from behind knocked you forward toward the entrance of the Reserve Course wing, You sighed deeply. “My brother ain’t that cute, damn!”

     “Natsumi, you could’ve just said something.” You pushed back the frustration in your voice in favor of a small smile in her direction.

     “Whatever, we’re gonna be late, and I’m not dealing with another one of Mr. Nakamura’s lectures on the value of punctuality!” She stuck her tongue out as if gagging, her blonde hair floating through the air as she rushed past you, her shoulder roughly knocking into yours.

     “Geez...that girl…” You shook your head, following behind.

     You couldn’t really complain about anything or anyone at Hope’s Peak, seeing as you were just lucky to be there in the first place. After dating Fuyuhiko for a little over two years, he got scouted and asked to attend Hope’s Peak’s main course as the Ultimate Yakuza. You were so happy for him, and proud, but he wasn’t as thrilled. He was really attached to you, with your father and his father being childhood friends and clan members, and your own childhood friendship with him had blossomed into this loving and loyal relationship. It was the best kind. After all, people always say the healthiest and longest-lasting marriages came when your spouse was your best friend, and you definitely intended to marry that boy one day. With how close you two were, he’d be damned if he was splitting up with you for some stupid school, but both you and his father weren’t having it. Mr. Kuzuryu only gained more influence and pride once his son started going to the best school in the country, and you just wouldn’t let your boyfriend pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime, and so…

     Fuyuhiko had gotten his father to personally pay for your tuition in order to enter the Reserve Course. It wasn’t like your family was poor, but you weren’t Hope’s-Peak-level rich. You protested at first, of course, feeling like a burden, but you could see that Fuyuhiko was quickly getting angry at your refusals and excuses, so you accepted. Plus, he told you that he wanted someone he trusted to look after his little sister, Natsumi, and you let him give you this excuse as a justification to accept his father’s financial support.

     The Reserve Course wasn’t that bad, certainly much more high class than your previous school, but sharing most of your classes with Natsumi was a pain in your ass. Her father was the leader of the Kuzuryu clan. Your father was one of his subordinates, below him, and she seemed to like to remind you of that every five minutes. She talked down to you endlessly, and seemed jealous of the attention her brother gave you, but you had absolutely no room to complain to Fuyuhiko about it after what his father had done for you, so you just didn’t. As far as he knew, you and his sister were on good, neutral terms. She was mean and a smart-ass to everyone, so he didn’t expect you two to be having sleepovers and make friendship bracelets, but he figured you liked her, and she didn’t hate you.

     You could sense a deep insecurity in Natsumi: a need to be recognized, a want to be in the main course, an inferiority complex that you sometimes saw in other Kuzuryu’s you knew, so you tried to always be nice to her. Everyone has their struggles, and her aggressive personality was how she pushed back hers. She was in your life for good, if you wanted to stay with Fuyuhiko, and besides, you promised him you’d look after her. And so, you kept your chin up and walked to class with a smile...until you opened the classroom door.

     “I’m telling you, Kuzuryu, I don’t care who your father is, none of us do! You’re in the Reserve Course just like us because you’re no better than anyone else here!” The green haired girl, Sato, Natsumi’s current and longest-standing arch-enemy, loomed over Natsumi, her face red with anger and hands balled into trembling fists at her side. Really...they’re starting early today...school just started.

     “Move your stupid face and smelly breath out of my face before I move it for you!” Natsumi spat back, leaning further into the argument. You quickly ran and stood between them. Every day was like this, with you or your classmate Hajime Hinata - a plain boy with a big heart - breaking it up before it escalated. But it was wearing on you, having been going on for over a month.

     “What the fuck did you say, bitch?! Just because your dad is some thug criminal doesn’t mean no one can touch you! You’re testing my patience!” Sato’s hand raised, and your own shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

     “Woah, woah!” Your breath was shaky. “What’s it about, today, guys? What happened?” Sato was mad about you stopping her, of course, but she liked you, certainly more than she did Natsumi, and she respected you and Hajime for always looking out for your classmates, even if she didn’t want to admit it. After all, you’d stuck up for her and others just as much as Natsumi over the course of the semester - not taking Natsumi’s side so much as simply diffusing the situation - so she paused her attack, huffing. You couldn’t actually believe Sato raised her hand to Natsumi. They always bickered, every single day, but it hadn’t gotten physical, yet.

     “She’s talking shit about Mahiru again! I told this bitch to stay away from Mahiru and keep her name out of her mouth, but of course her jealousy knows no limits!” Sato spat, and you looked to Natsumi as if for confirmation. Just then, Hajime Hinata, as well as your professor, waltzed into the room together, just a little late after the bell. Upon seeing the scene before them, Mr. Nakamura spoke out:

     “What’s going on here? I’m a few minutes late and you guys think class should turn into a free-for-all? Get to your seats!” You looked to Natsumi, then Sato.

     “Guys, this isn’t worth it, please…” Your eyes pleaded softly. Sato scowled, turning away and returning to her seat. Natsumi pushed past you, her lips close to your ear.

     “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again, I don’t need you fighting my fuckin’ battles for me…” she whispered, her tone flat and menacing, “I don’t care if you’re dating my brother, if you get in my way again, I’ll handle you and Sato.” You knew she didn’t mean it. She was hotheaded like her brother, and at this moment she felt bested by Sato, not having gotten to say her piece and have the final word in the argument. She was embarrassed and angry. So you let her go back to her seat without a response or retort.

     When the class period ended, you caught Natsumi walking past Sato as everyone was leaving the room, speaking harshly. “Hey, Sato, raise a hand to me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

~

     You were in the back of a sleek limousine, sitting on Fuyuhiko’s lap, your arms around his neck as he attacked your neck with rough kisses. Being alone in the back was nice and all, but it felt so...off. Usually, Natsumi rode along with you, and any friends that were riding back to the Kuzuryu east-side guesthouse after school to hang out. Friends and non-clan members weren’t allowed in the Kuzuryu main manor, it was far too dangerous, but the Kuzuryu’s owned many little extravagant homes, lounges, stores and clubhouses where you’d meet up and pass time with friends.

     “ ‘Hiko, why isn’t Natsumi here, again?”

     “I told you, some shit about a photography club meeting after school. You know she likes taking pictures and shit.” His brow furrowed at the interruption before going back to your neck. “Geez, just savor it. I rarely have time to be alone with you.” You pushed his shoulders back.

     “Y-yeah but, Natsumi isn’t in the photography club for the Reserve Course. I know because I’m in it...we don’t have a meeting this week.” You started to worry.

     “Whatever, who cares. Maybe she went off to give some kid a handy behind the school.” You rolled your eyes at his facetious tone and he smirked. “Why do you care? She’s fine.” He took his attack south to your collarbone, and you let him as you continued.

     “Well...it’s just…she’s been having issues with this girl in class and I’m worried…”

     “Issues?” His head popped up, face screwed up in an annoyed and anxious expression, but then melting into careful suspicion just as fast. “What kind of issues? I’m sure that if it was that bad, you’d have told me a while ago, yes?”

     “W-well, of course, but...I mean nothing’s happened, really…they usually just swear and insult each other, but today, things almost got physical…” He paused, thinking.

     “...what’s been going on?” Physical for a boy used to being around yakuza could mean anything from a fistfight to a bullet to the head, so he automatically assumed the worst most of the time.

     “I don’t know...they just hate each other. Natsumi doesn’t like this girl...Mahiru Koi...something. She’s in your class. She’s jealous of her, I think...and so Sato, the one Natsumi is fighting with, is defending Mahiru to be a good friend, but-“

     “Pfft! I thought you were gonna say something serious. This is petty high-school girl shit, s/o! If they wanna throw punches, break their nails and pull hair, let them. Natsumi and I see blood spilled every day. She can handle herself in a fight. Let her pop this Sato chick in the mouth, then. Who cares? Bet it will settle this little spat of theirs. You shouldn’t be so stressed about it.” His eyes softened, rubbing your back with one hand.

     “I know, it’s just...I mean you told me to look out for her, and it’s not like I don’t care about your sister, she’s like family to me…”

     “It’s not your job to babysit and bodyguard her. I just said that so you’d take the damn tuition money and I think you know that,” he snorted, shifting your position on his lap to kiss you on the forehead. “If she really needs someone like Peko, we’ll get her someone, but we both wanted to go to school without the clan’s influence. You know that…” he trailed off.

     “I know, but-“ the driver stopped abruptly.

     “I’ll see you after work. Don’t stress about this, seriously.” Fuyuhiko pushed your folded up work clothes into your hands, and you gave him a look of warning, as if to say ‘you aren’t taking this seriously’ before he gestured toward the limousine door, giving you a playful slap on the ass as you exited with the driver patiently holding the door open for you. “I love you.”

     “I love you, too, ‘Hiko,” you smiled before pushing through the large crystal doors on the upscale, Kuzuryu-owned men’s clothing boutique for your shift.

~

     The next day was like any other school day: dropped off at the gates, Fuyuhiko’s peck on your cheek, Natsumi walking with you to first period...but, what was that grin on her face…? She hated waking up early, she hated first period...she was always sluggish or irritable and waiting for her morning caffeine to kick in. You decided you were being paranoid, and shook it off.

     When you entered the classroom, the students were all huddled in the corner, surrounding Sato, who was screaming at Hajime about something.

     “-and I am not just gonna let this slide, Hinata! You better fuck of-“ Hajime saw you two enter, and Sato’s eyes followed his own, her rant cutting off. Locking eyes with Natsumi, who smirked back wickedly, she flew out of her seat, launching herself at your future sister-in-law. Natsumi fought back, her hands around Sato’s neck as Sato pulled her down to the ground.

     “Oh my-stop!” You pulled at Natsumi’s arms, everything seeming to happen so fast. She threw an elbow back toward you for interfering, and it hit your side roughly. You grimaced, the pain working hard but your adrenaline working harder. You thrust yourself between the girls, pulling Natsumi back with all of your might. Hajime rushed over, pulling Sato off the ground and holding her back as she kicked and swung.

     “I told you-! You-let go of me!!!” Natsumi resisted as well, and you and Hajime locked eyes, barely keeping hold of the two combatants.

     “What could possibly be worth all this!” You wheezed, Natsumi quickly overpowering you.

     “That cunt! Let me go, Hinata or I’ll fuck you up, too!” Sato roared, catching the attention of Mr. Nakamura, who rushed in and quickly pressed his authority, threatening both girls with suspension or worse if they spoke another word or touched each other. They were both sent to the headmaster’s office, with Hajime being asked to escort them since they ‘obviously needed to be monitored like children’.

     You sat in your desk seat, uniform askew, armpits wet with perspiration. Another student filled you in after class. Apparently, Natsumi had gone over to the photo development room in the main course’s wing after school, and ripped up each and every photo Mahiru was going to present at the upcoming photography competition on campus. Twenty photos for a gallery opening up tomorrow for student work. Twenty priceless, stunning photographs by the Ultimate Photographer, all gone. Oh...so that’s why Sato was so pissed. You had to admit, it was hard to defend Natsumi at this point. You released a breath you’d been holding in, putting your head down on your desk to just calm your thoughts before texting Fuyuhiko. You filled him in about what happened, every detail, and your thoughts on it, taking Sato’s side as gently as possible. You had hoped to get his counsel, simply wanting validation and reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, but you ended up only making it worse.

     Natsumi texted you about fifteen minutes later, calling you a fucking snitch and many other expletives, saying with malice that now her brother was on her case. Fuyuhiko then texted you saying he told Natsumi she better go straight to the limo after the last bell rang like a fire was lit under her ass, and that he wanted you to stand outside her last class and wait for her to make sure she did just that. You swallowed your spit down hard, throat going dry all of a sudden. You didn’t intend for this to happen. Now Natsumi was going to hate you, and Fuyuhiko is going to be in a bad mood. Why did you have to be so stupid? Why did Natsumi have to cause so much trouble? Maybe you should just let her suffer on her own, and stop stressing about it like Fuyuhiko said. This wasn’t fair, for you to feel like this because of her behavior.

~

     You left your last class a few minutes early, rushing to Natsumi’s classroom with an exhausted and anxious air about you. You found the class, and leaned on the wall beside the door, preparing for her to march out and scream at you and who knows maybe even strangle you because that’s what she was into now apparently and-

     Your ears perked up at a loud sound, like muffled yelling and a crash of glass. It sounded nearby, but far away at the same time. The yelling picked up, a bit louder now, and you felt yourself get nervous for no reason. It had to be on this floor, and close. You looked around, and held your bag close, sprinting down the hall. The sound got louder, confirming your suspicions until you were in front of the music room, with yelling and then a strangled cry coming from the other side. You panicked, fumbling with the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the door, your breathing getting harder and faster. Backing up, you braced yourself, and ran at the door with the strength of fight-or-flight adrenaline in your veins, throwing your shoulder into the hard door and it flew open, slamming into the wall on the other side.

     “NATSUMI!” You didn’t have time to baby your injured shoulder, as the scene before you needed immediate action, obviously. A broken glass fish tank was scattered on the ground, gravel and quickly dying freshwater fish littering the floor. The room was a mess, with sheet music and desks knocked over and spilled out everywhere. Sato stood near the window, her hands around Natsumi’s neck in a vice-like grip, and Natsumi gasping and flailing, her eyes slowly rolling to the back of her head. “Sato, what the fuck are you thinking?!!!” You ran at her, and Sato didn’t even look in your direction, her mind clouded with hatred and blood lust. Knocking into Sato with all you had, she fell forward into the window, releasing Natsumi as the window splintered and cracked around her.

     Natsumi hit the the wall beside the window and fell to the floor, gasping and choking, her lungs clawing desperately for air. Sato leapt at her again, and you tackled her to the ground, looking up at Natsumi.

     “Go! GO! Fuyuhiko will be at the gates! Get him!” Natsumi looked shocked, traumatized, and simply stared at you, while Sato spat and growled and tried to buck you off, reaching for Natsumi’s skirt. “Get someone! Please!”

     “I-I told you I don’t need y-your help, s/o!” She tried to keep up her gangster’s-daughter persona even in her shaken-up state, but her voice betrayed her and tears sprung from her eyes. Sato threw you off and started to stand.

      “Run! Natsumi, RUN!!” She heard the seriousness in your voice, the fear, and she had never heard you sound like that before. You were her brother’s sensitive, pacifist, kind-hearted s/o, and here you were, in danger because of her. She shook off her pride, and ran toward the door as you grabbed Sato’s ankle and she tripped to the ground again. Natsumi disappeared down the hall, screaming for help the entire way.

      “Fuck you! Fuck you!! She deserved this! You ruined everything!” Sato sounded like an animal more than a high-school girl. She reached to her right, twisting her body around violently until she could reach a long shard of glass from the fish tank, and she brought it down hard on your thigh, the glass tearing into your flesh.

     You screamed out in pain, your vision blurring quickly at the shock of it, sobs coming immediately from your mouth. Blood gushed out of the inches-deep wound, and your heads involuntarily released Sato. When you steadied yourself, steeling your nerves, and reached out to try and neutralize her again, she pulled the glass out of your leg, slamming it down again, hitting a vein deeply before pulling it out. You yelped and forced yourself to stand as she did, blood spurting freely from your leg. You fell more than threw yourself onto her, your head beginning to spin and feeling consciousness leaving you slowly. Leaning on her, you wrapped your arms around her waist with all of your remaining energy, and gripped tightly, hoping you could at least burden her enough to make leaving to room slower and making it impossible for her to catch up to Natsumi or flee the scene before help came.

     Now with a great strength advantage over you, she arched her back, threw her head back, and slammed you behind her into the wall. Your head hit the wall with a crack, and immediately you slumped to the ground, your world going dark.

~

     “...hear me? S-.....” fuzziness. Emptiness. Darkness. “-lose you, please! You h-“ A voice faded in and out, then finally out for good. Hours later, you felt yourself stir.

     When your eyelids flew open, the ceiling above you was white, clean, calming.

     “S/o?!” Fuyuhiko? You sat up quickly, a pounding in your head making you gasp and whimper. “No, no! You need to stay down.” A hand on your chest softly guided you back onto the pillow below you. You turned your head to the side. You took in your surroundings slowly. A hospital. You were in a hospital bed, and Fuyuhiko had been in a chair beside you, now standing at your side. His hands flew to your face, cradling your cheeks. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Are you fucking crazy?” His words were harsh, but there was no anger behind them, only worry and pain. You felt the wrap of linen around your head wound, and adjusting your leg at all resulted in a sharp spike of pain shooting up your body.

     “Where’s Natsumi? Is she okay? Did Sato-“

     “I don’t wanna hear that bitch’s name. And why are you worried about Natsumi right now?!” Now there was anger. “You almost fucking died, s/o! I almost lost you!” His voice cracked on that last word, and your eyes widened at the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes before he angrily rubbed them away with his sleeve. “Natsumi’s fucking fine. She didn’t have anything more than a few bruises on her neck. Nothing’s broken or injured except her pride. And she will be coming to thank and apologize to you at length later.” You didn’t comment on that last bit, deciding instead to ask about what happened after you passed out.

     Natsumi found a security guard at the entrance, he explained, and he saw her screaming from his position at the school gates. He rushed over to yell at her and figure out what the hell was going on, before having her grab him by the wrist and force him into the school with stuttering gibberish about you and that you were in trouble or something like that with the security guard running close behind. When they got to the music room, the door was open and Sato was nowhere to be found.

     Fuyuhiko had screamed your name, his throat ripping apart as he swore and cried and snot ran down his face like a fool. He ran to what he thought was your corpse, blood splattered everywhere, pooling under you, a little patch of blood on the wall behind you head. He took in your closed eyes and thigh oozing slowly-drying blood, and picked you up into his arms, his clothes getting covered in the liquid. He screamed at Natsumi to call for the police, an ambulance, anything, while the security guard called for backup and went off to find Sato. You were brought immediately to the hospital along with Natsumi, and he’d been waiting by your bed ever since, just pleading, begging you to wake up. Sato was apprehended by police a few blocks from the school, obviously off her rocker and in a manic state.

     “You...you were almost gone. You lost...just so much blood,” he sniffled.

     “But, I’m here,” you reached up and grabbed his hand, a comforting smile on your lips, “aren’t I?” He scoffed at you.

     “You fucking idiot,” he shook his head, leaning down and kissing you roughly on the lips, tears from his eyes falling onto your cheeks. “I fucking love you. Don’t make me worry like this.” He pulled back, face inches from yours.

     “I love you, too, so much.” You looked back at him with some indeterminable emotion washing over you. You were just overwhelmed.

     “I will always love you. Please, don’t leave me.”

[domjaehyun]

i love this for u babes. no bc seeing people try you repeatedly really blows me bc you literally don’t do shit lmaooooo like you just be on ur blog and then they come attack u then scream and cry “hostile” when u stand up for urself. i hate it here. very mych a microaggression but i digress.

the safe space tho for black women would be literally so amazing. i have mostly black friends in real life but most of them don’t like kpop and most of the friends that i’ve made from kpop are nbpoc so i’d really really love to meet black girls who love kpop too omgggg it’s a good idea babes. i don’t think the selfie thing is invasive bc i’ve been in discords for different erotic audio creators and shit like that and they had us take a selfie with our id so the mods could check if we were over 18. only the mods saw it so i feel like it’s an okay strategy.

🥺🥺🥺

i . i adore you 😭😭😭 i’m not even kidding like i love . this message and you like genuinely this is PRECISELY why i want to do it!!!! like a lil while ago i was making a big ol brain dump in my notes app for like . how it could work and the screening process of determining who’s like . Safe yknow?? but yeah i feel like there are so many . Factors to consider bc i have to think abt screening for so many things AND on top of that i would have to make sure like . people aren’t lying abt anything yknow?

it’s not even just their race/gender bc like, as i’ve been reminded of today, not all black women mean well so like :/ i’m trying to protect y’all, my followers who are black women, more than i’m protecting myself yknow? like i can personally go head to head with ignorant ppl and have the time of my life proving them wrong and making them look stupid, but if this is a safe space, they have no place here yknow? just like if someone said their blog was a safe space for trans people and then regularly debated with terfs or smth…like i wouldn’t want anyone who follows me to get offended by proxy when they see me defending myself from racists :/

and omg rly….. inchresting…… maybe that would be how i’d do it then!! i obvi wouldn’t be sharing anyone’s images with anyone like not even my close friends bc if i’m offering you a safe space, you should be able to trust me that i will do my very best to keep you safe, right?

SO I WILL TINKER W THIS THOUGHT SOME MORE W A MUCH MORE SERIOUS AND DELIBERATE MINDSET!!!!! thank you very much, my love, this message means a lot to me 😭😭😭

[piceuscelus]

oops have some more fucktoy ciri verse, this time with branding! sooo the usual noncon, body mod via hot iron branding, mind control, sex slavery, underage, daddy kink, any of the usual warnings on the verse i’ve forgotten,

also on ao3!

It’s Lambert who suggests it, one day while Vesemir is fiddling with the old brands still sitting in the armory, from the days when Kaer Morhen had herds of cattle and other livestock. 

“We should mark her,” he says. “Permanently.”

“With what?” Eskel asks, before he looks over to Vesemir. “Those?”

Lambert nods, then shrugs. “Or others, we have what we need to make more, don’t we?”

Eskel hums. “What do you think, Geralt?”

He hums right back, thinking for a moment. Ciri is in the dining room currently, entertaining Coën; he can just hear the sounds of skin slapping skin and Ciri whimpering desperately, half-pained. He thinks about all that smooth, blemish-free skin they all love to bruise and mark, and the idea of something permanent….

“Yes,” he nods. “Yeah, we should.”

– – – – – 

They decide to use one of the old Kaer Morhen brands, specifically the one they used on the bitches marked for breeding, but also make some new ones, too. The process of making the new brands takes about two weeks, and meanwhile they get all of the use out of Ciri they possibly can.

Sure, her pain isn’t of much concern, but they don’t want to deal with any of the brands getting infected.

The night before they plan to brand her, they put her up on the bench after dinner. She’s eager for it, even without any of the usual potions, squirming against the bonds as she’s tied and begging prettily to be used.

“We’ll use you, little slut, be patient,” Lambert snaps when she asks for him specifically, and Coën follows the words up with a harsh slap to Ciri’s backside, leaving a livid red handprint. Tears spring to her eyes but she doesn’t beg any further, just makes a weak, wanting little noise, still squirming against her ties. 

“Be good, Ciri,” Geralt orders, and she makes another meek little noise.

“I will, Daddy, I’ll be good, sorry,” she says softly, and he reaches over to pet over her hair in approval.

Lambert finishes up with getting her strapped to the bench, and his hand joins Geralt’s in her hair, but he grips harshly and pulls, making the tears spill over. “Needy little brat,” he hisses. “Beg me to fuck your throat.”

“Please fuck my throat, sir,” Ciri gasps immediately, still with tears streaking down her face as Lambert doesn’t relent on the grip in her hair. Geralt – and the others – settle back into their seats to watch. “Please, want your cock so badly, please give it to me – I’ll be good, please fuck my throat, sir, please?”

Lambert huffs. “Not half bad,” he says, about as close to praising Ciri as he ever gets, and finally lets go of her hair. She doesn’t drop her head, though, just opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, practically a welcome mat, and that makes Lambert laugh. 

“Nasty little whore, you really are desperate for it, already drooling.” He pulls his cock out of his breeches and rubs the head of it over her tongue, laughing again when she makes a needy noise and tries to surge forward to suck at him. It’s futile, with the straps keeping her immobile on the bench, but it’s fun to watch her struggle, and Lambert lets her try for several minutes, just teasing her with rubbing his cockhead over her tongue, her lips.

Eventually, though, he gets bored with that and steps forward, rolling his hips so his cock pops right into Ciri’s throat. She chokes and gags violently, the bench rattling with how hard she convulses; Lambert just groans.

“Gods, yeah, just like that, keep your throat nice and tight,” he mutters, rocking his hips.

It doesn’t take long for Ciri to turn red, and then near purple, and only when her head starts to wobble does Lambert pull back enough to let her breathe properly.

“Thank you, sir,” she chokes out around heaving gasps, “please, please want your cock again, thank you, please fuck my throat – ”

Lambert just grunts and fucks back into her mouth. At this point, Geralt has pulled his cock out of his breeches to stroke, and so has Eskel. After a bit longer of listening to her gag and convulse, though, apparently Coën is tired of waiting; he steps up, breeches already gone, and sets to fucking his cock into her ass. He never preps her, not after that first time, just uses a ton of lube – according to him, it’s the only way she’s tight enough to enjoy. Ciri sobs when he says it, but begs for him to fuck her sore every time.

Ciri screams, at least the best she can around Lambert’s cock in her throat; Coën and Lambert just laugh and keep moving. Geralt has to swallow back a flood of drool at the thought of how sore and used she’ll be tomorrow, how loud she’ll scream and cry when they brand her – how pretty she’ll sound when he makes her come with each brand.

They spend the rest of the night fucking her, until all of her holes are gaping and she’s cross-eyed, nearly unconscious from the amount of times she’s been fucked straight through several orgasms in a row. She’s still drooling and mumbling thanks and pleas when they plug her up to keep their cum inside and put her to bed.

– – – – –

The next morning, Vesemir is the one to get her out of bed and take her down to the dungeons. She goes obediently and without question, as usual, and Geralt tries to ignore the way his cock throbs at the wide-eyed, trusting look she gives all of them when they crowd into the room with her.

“Arms up,” he orders, and she puts her arms up immediately, looking up at him when he comes near. He can’t resist kissing her, petting a hand down her front to feel the way her belly is still bulging from their cum and the plugs. She hisses, tears welling up at the shifting, but just bites her lip and looks at him, arms still held in the air.

“Good girl,” he praises, and she beams. He steps aside to grab the chains that Vesemir already set up, and pulls her wrists up a little further to lock them into the manacles. It leaves her balanced on her tiptoes, wobbling a little, and he swats at her ass just to see her flail and hear her squeak.

Eskel gets her feet chained, leaving her entirely suspended with her legs spread. She looks a little afraid, at that point, but when Geralt pets over her hair and whispers, “Be a good girl,” in her ear, she nods.

“I will, Daddy,” she says, and then, when Lambert snorts, “I will, sir, I’ll be good.”

“Mhm,” Lambert nods, intentionally doubting. Geralt chuckles when Ciri huffs, but when she opens her mouth to protest he stops her with a mean pinch and twist to her nipples.

She cries out and thrashes for a split second before settling when he lets go. “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Eskel steps up to her front, so she’s essentially pinned between he and Geralt, and puts a hand over her cunt, making her gasp. 

“You’ll get a reward if you are,” he promises, and from the way Ciri shudders and her head lolls, he presses at the pugs keeping her stuffed.

“Yes, sir, thank you sir, please, I’ll be good.”

The two of them step away, Geralt with one last nipping kiss to Ciri’s throat and Eskel with a mean flick to her already-swollen clit, and Vesemir lights the fire in the makeshift oven he built in the corner. He goes first, once the original breeding bitch iron is hot, stepping in front of Ciri and, ignoring her frightened squeaking, carefully pressing the metal just above her cunt, right over her womb.

She screeches, shrill and piercing, and Eskel is quick with Axii. 

“Come.”

She screams again, pleasure this time as she gushes all over the floor. “Th-thank you,” she stammers when she’s done and Vesemir has pulled the brand away, leaving an angry red burn that clearly marks her as one of Kaer Morhen’s breeding bitches.

Geralt spares a momentary thought to getting some hunting dogs again, just so they can let the mutts knot Ciri, but pushes it aside for later. 

Coën and Lambert go next, both at the same time, marking her inner thighs on each side. Her entire body jerks and convulses with the pain, but Eskel’s Axii is strong, and when he orders her to come again, she does with a reedy whine, panting like some kind of overtaxed animal. 

Since Eskel is maintaining the Axii, Geralt goes after Coën and Lambert. His brand is the biggest of them, though none of them are particularly large.

“Look at me, Ciri,” he orders, and she does, eyes hazy but on him, mouth open and spilling drool and a little blood where she must have bitten her cheek or tongue. “You’re mine, aren’t you? And ours.”

“Yes, yes,” she slurs, nodding. “Yours, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” 

He presses his brand right below her throat, on her collar and just slightly between her perky tits. Her voice gives out on the scream she gives at the pain of it, but she’s whispering a hoarse, “Thank you,” before Eskel even makes her come.

When the Axii drops, she sobs, thrashing in the chains, but Geralt puts her under again quickly, making soothing noises.

“You feel so good, don’t you, Ciri?” he asks. “Everything feels so good.”

He watches as his will overtakes her own, her face falling slack, and his cock throbs. He’ll have to take care of himself until all their brands are healed, but that’s fine. She sleeps in his room; he’ll be able to look at her, and see the brands when he changes her bandages, and hear her sweet, hurt little noises. It’ll be plenty of fodder for him to jerk off to – and besides, he can feed her his cum off of his fingers without risking her healing.

Eskel is last, and he circles around to her back, placing his brand just above her ass. Thanks to Geralt’s control, she comes without even being ordered, feeling even intense pain as pleasure now, and he’s not the only one who groans desperately about it.

“Good girl,” he praises, carefully holding her up as Lambert and Vesemir unshackle her. “Such a perfect little toy, Ciri, and all ours.”

“Y-yours,” she slurs, voice shattered, and passes out.

also in the work on ao3!

[wolfhowlingdragonflyingsirensong]

spoilers

Since I recently played Life is Strange, which whoah, is totally an experience that I recommend to everyone, I’ve come to appreciate how well the game handles choices. It’s interesting how choices can seem meaningless good acts, like helping Alyssa avoid being hit, translates to her trusting Max enough for Max to save her. But, the game also points out how we can’t control consequences, since good deeds are done with nothing but good intentions can have fatal consequences, such as warning Victoria (and her believing you) leads to her murder, or the biggest good deed of them all, saving Chloe, leads to a storm that (can) kill lots of people. And ultimately, what’s cool is that every choice is canon, since Max it’s not a blank slate, meaning every choice the player makes is something Max considered. What do I mean with Max not being a blank slate? I mean regardless of your choices, Max likes waffles AND bacon and eggs. This is a minor example, but it serves for many things. Max can comfort Victoria or not, and later when they talk at the party regardless of your choice, Max at first is pretty angry, so she’s completely capable of standing up for herself and others. Max loves Chloe regardless of the player's feelings towards her. Max can be pretty uncaring or a literal angel, by Kate. And all of this is canon because even nice people contemplate not being nice all the time, even if it’s only a thought. This brings me to the ships topics. First of all, I’m glad that this game has non-ambiguous, non-sexualized, soft wlw romance (actually two counting BTS!) without the canon protagonist being turned evil or something, and I think that’s incredibly important. If the game had only Chloe as a love interest, I would totally get it and have no problem,  because the game is pretty much focused on their bond. Not that it matters to those who do, I personally don't ship it because I self-project (and I totally recognize it) on friendships I had in my youth that were a bit like Chloe and Max's friendship in the first episodes, and they were toxic. Don't get me wrong, I loved my friends and they were (are) good people. I like Chloe a lot, and there's no denying that there are strong feelings on Max's part for Chloe that are romantic, and it's up to the player to determine if Max is going to pursue Chloe. Denying it means that is both not reading Max's diary and erasing her sexuality. I write this because I don't want to seem like I don't ship them because I like Grahamfield, it's not that, I could very well be into both, and I think Chloe develops so much at the end of episode 5 that, while before I thought she was only in love with Rachel, at that point is totally understandable for me. If you ship Pricefield then that's awesome! You have all the canon content to back you up and a beautiful story of love with the childhood friends-to-lovers trope, can't get much better. Plus, the whole game is about their bond. It's incredibly well developed at the end mostly when you see Chloe growing out of her initial angry phase, and maturing in a beautiful way. So, shipping Grahamfield in this fandom sometimes feels like hey, you are a giant dick. I don't like hate on any ship or character (especially dunking on Chloe, because she's a representation of how trauma is not nice while actually being cool and kind, as well as being one of the few wlw canon protagonists), because both choices are completely canon, it's entirely up to the player. Again, if Chloe was the only canon love interest then that would be totally cool. Buuuut Max can choose to go on a date with Warren, write on his slate that he is cute, raise his grade (which can be done as a friendship thing only), help him in his experiment, kiss him, and if she does, she writes in his diary "I wanted one kiss from a boy I cared about", that to me, reads as having a canon interest in him too. And since Max is bisexual from what I understand, erasing that part doesn't sit well with me. Both Chloe and Warren have flaws, which hey is what happens with characters. Can you imagine having perfect characters? That would be so boring. He is a realistic 16-year-old boy to Max's 18 and Chloe's 19 years. He is extremely awkward, dorky, a little cringy, a boy with a harmless boy with a crush and that's normal at that age. He's helpful almost to a fault, and while some argue that's because he feels entitled, let me tell you, no niceGuy I've ever met has been so helpful if you don't give in, they don't back out after someone lets them down nicely, and he states his interest in Max clearly, and niceGuys don't tend to do that because they like to pine away and be angry that a girl didn't read his mind and magically fell in love with him. He believes Max from the get-go and helps her all the time, regardless of his feelings, which is like, basic decency, so if you want to call him a piece of shit I think that's going a little too far. If you want to take the words of others, Kate says he's a smart and silly cutie-pie with a good heart, suggests they take him with them to their tea-shop tour of Portland after everything and supports their date (besides them being friends, he brings her homework and is shown worried about her). I don't remember that part well, but I think Alyssa and Dana also support Grahamfield (and Brooke is very jealous!) so I think if he was an asshole they wouldn't be so supportive and Brooke wouldn't be into him, or Stella in another reality. My only point is that hey if you don't like him that's fine, but to call him a pervert or entitled or assholery is kinda uncalled for, to be honest, and using the nightmare sequence, in which EVERYONE is out of character (except Jeffershit) and shown being assholes, as a canon that he is bad seems to me like going out of your way. It's a nightmare for a reason, do you really think Kate would have said those things to Max if you save her? She's incredibly grateful. Or do you think Chloe would have done those things??? She would NEVER. Then why is Warren being treated as someone who would do those things for a nightmare? I don't get it. There are two myths regarding him: that he spies on Max and that he photoshopped a photo with them. First one, you can verify with mods that he can't see SHIT, he is merely waiting for her outside. Second, the photo is developed, not photoshopped, Max doesn't say hey we never took that photo, she merely is surprised he kept it. Now, he's a bit pushy when it comes to the drive-in (he acknowledges he's a pain in the booty), says like a stupid joke (a 16-year-old making stupid jokes, what a crime), and has that photo, which for some is crossing boundaries, and hey, that's fine. I, personally, just think a 16-year-old having a photo with his friend and crush is not creepy or bad. So, now that I'm over the ship discourse, which I hate but had to write to explain, I'm so glad this game brought so many interesting characters. My only complaint is that it felt a little too short when it came to other characters, I guess it's because the literal theme of the game is about abandoning youth and growing up as well, so that's because it's very focused on Chloe and Max's relationship, besides the romance. I adore Kate! I’m so happy we were able to save her, it was seriously one of the best moments I’ve ever seen in a game, I would have liked to see her future children’s book with Max’s photos, their tea sessions, and her coming back to school. I would love to have seen more of Stella, (a POC I think) that according to her words, faced an abusive home and poverty to end up studying in a prestigious school like Blackwell, busting her ass to work and yet being super cool and kind! I would have loved to see more of Daniel, how he faced bullying, how his home life is, his budding romance with Brooke, his future drawings. I would have loved to see more of Dana! How she dealt with abortion, a heavy topic, and yet she's super happy, nice, and in a loving relationship apparently. I would have liked to see more of Juliet's reporting skills, I feel like she could have been more important to the plot, or at least more exposés on bullying and the Prescotts. I would have loved to see more of Alyssa, what she likes, her relationships, etc. I would have loved to see more of Taylor! How her mom was doing, what steps was she going to take in not falling with the Vortex Club bullshit, her love for fashion, like Courtney. We didn't get to know Courtney at all I feel and I would have liked to! I would have liked to see more of Victoria, her insecurities, her relationship with her parents, her inner thoughts (she's totally bi too I bet), even her friendship with Nathan seemed deeper. I would have liked to see more of cool hipster Evan, or good skater boy Luke. In short, I would have LOVED to have them all hanging more with Max. The ending, oh man, what an ending. It's incredibly hard, and I hate that saving Arcadia Bay seems to go into "bury your gays" trope, because if there was a way to save them both I would. The writing is very powerful, ending the way it began. This leads me to my initial topic, choices. I love that the game gives us choices, and considering there are other alternative realities, maybe both choices are canon in different universes. If I was in Chloe's shoes I couldn't choose to sacrifice my mom, and Joyce dies if Chloe is saved, as well as many other innocents, so I can't choose that ending, I just can't (and I understand that's totally personal for everyone). A really tough choice, at least for me, and hey, if it wasn't specified that practically everyone died, I would have saved Chloe no questions asked. I do love, however, how Chloe matures so much in the course of 5 days and her bond with Max. She sacrifices for Arcadia Bay, and a lot of it is because of Max, because she doesn't want her to make that choice. So now if you excuse me, I'm still playing the funeral scene in my mind and the bathroom scene (totally broken) and had to write this as cathartic, so feel free to disagree with me or whatever you prefer, each one of us experiences a different game because of our different experiences in life. Next step: BTS and LIS2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9uy4V8SvPk

[babbushka]

Please read the whole thing ❤️

Hey everyone, Zannah here. 

I’ve taken some time and stepped away from this platform after all the drama that happened a month or so ago, and in that time I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Thank you all so much, for your kindness and support in allowing me to unplug for a little while, I really needed that break just for my own sanity. I hope that in this time, you all have been doing as well as you can in this very stressful year. I’d like to take this brief moment and thank my most dear friends who have been my rock. This experience has shown me that good friends, truthful friends, are hard to come by. If you have them, please make sure they know how much you love them.

You know, I’ve been on this platform for just about ten years. For a few of those years, I’ve been here in the AD community, and I can honestly say I’ve never had a more negative experience in my life, from the actions that I’ve witnessed and experienced. I stayed away from people I didn’t like, I didn’t read fic I didn’t like, I avoided content and artwork that upset me, because I’m an adult. And foolishly I was expecting others to do the same, because as I always say, your internet experience is up to you to cultivate. You are responsible for no one else’s actions other than your own.

I’ve dealt with people coming into my inbox condemning me for the way I interpret fictional characters from day one. I’ve dealt with people calling me slurs and names, telling me to kill myself, telling me they were going to kill me themselves, that I deserve awful unspeakable things, for not agreeing with the way that they interpret a fictional character. Those were all easy to ignore, because they were always, always either about my Jewishness, or about the Jewishness of my characters, and I have no time for bigots, I just don’t.  

People got angry with me for having boundaries in not wanting to write certain things, or for not wanting to write them in the specific way that they wanted me to. People got angry with me for being frustrated, that time and time again I was being treating as some writing machine and not a person, by them not giving me the basic respect of checking the small list of tropes and themes I’m uncomfortable writing which I’ve made so accessible every time. Time and time again I became frustrated, being asked questions that I’ve made clear on so many occasions, that I was uncomfortable answering, or held negative opinions of.

And that was frustrating, because it was a level of entitlement I’d never seen before – people wanted my writing, but only if it satisfied their needs with little regard to my own feelings, and called me a bully when I didn’t comply. Still, it was just about the writing, and I could ignore that.

But then, strangers started getting angry with me because I had blocked them for whatever reason from seeing my content. Strangers got angry with me for standing up for myself when people tried to pull stunts in the inbox. When people asked me for advice or my opinion on a whole assortment of topics, they said I was being a bully because they didn’t like what I had to say. A difference of opinion is not a personal attack, but it seems as though many people haven’t grasped that concept. People said I was betraying others’ trust by answering anonymous asks on the internet, something that has exactly 0 risk or stakes in sending. People said I was a bitch when I tried to offer genuinely constructive and critical responses. People got angry that I blocked their IP address for sending me unwanted, anonymous, negative hot takes that I didn’t ask for, nor that I cared about. People said I never took accountability for anything, when in reality they just wanted me to change my mind about certain topics, and got angry when I held true to my convictions. 

I hope you can all imagine why I didn’t respond pleasantly. Like every content creator on this website and on any website, we don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t owe anyone writing, I don’t owe anyone answers, I don’t owe anyone attention or time. And something that I’ve learned most of all, is that I don’t owe people the pleasure of indulging in flame wars that get brought to my feet. I am not interested in wasting my time trying to defend myself and my good name, against people who have already made up their mind about me from a few misunderstandings, a single interaction, or a one-sided and angry perspective. I’m not interested in wasting my time over things that I know in my heart, aren’t true.

One thing people sometimes tell me, is that I was “rude to a perfectly genuine anon.” I would like to say this; there is absolutely no way for me to know the intention of any anon, other than the way the message comes across. And I’ll be the first to admit, often intention is misinterpreted! When that happens and the person reaches out, I always, every time, have apologized. And just as easy as it is for me to misinterpret someone’s genuine ask as rude or offensive, it is easy for my genuine responses to be interpreted as rude or clipped. Tone is difficult over the internet -- tone is difficult in text where these people are anonymous strangers and I have no idea who they are or with which intentions they’re coming from. 

That being said, people can still say hurtful things without the intention of doing so. People have said unintentionally hurtful things to me, and I now realize that I have said things which have been hurtful to others. Good intentions mean nothing, when real hurt and pain is caused. To those people, I would like to give a genuine and sincere apology. I hope, as all I can ever do is hope, that folks here know I never come from a place of malice. Moving forward, I will do my best to respond in ways that I hope will come across as respectful as possible, even when disagreeing. I believe the only legitimate form of apology is changed behavior, and I intend to make that change so that this space can be more inclusive and welcoming, as I have only ever wished it to be. 

Because, well, I like to think that we have made a welcoming and inclusive space, a space where we are able to respect one another’s boundaries. I am just one person, just a girl with a blog on the internet who has tried to forge a community of peers and friends. I am not a politician with a PR team approving my every post, there are no mods here to help me interact with you guys. I’m just a girl who writes fanfic and posts it on the internet. I write fanfic that makes me happy, that I’m proud of, for me, and I am happy to share it with you. Especially because through that fanfic, I’ve met incredible wonderful people, and I’m thankful for all of you.

Through having this blog, I’ve met people that I consider to be lifelong friends -- people that I plan on building a future with, and for that I’m forever grateful. I’ve met people who have become inspired to write their own fanfic or start their own blogs, and even when it’s a subject matter that’s not something I’m interested in or one that I personally don’t like, I have always, always been encouraging. Because this is a hobby, this is something people should be doing for fun, because they want to, and no other reason. So when I see claims that “I’ve forced people to quit writing” or someone saying “I quit the fandom because of you”, I know that that’s simply not true. The only way you quit writing is by not writing anymore. It may feel better to blame someone for the reasons why, but no one can make you do anything except yourself. 

Similarly, I’ve seen people saying that I’ve “ruined their favorite character” and to that all I have to say is what I’ve always been saying; if you don’t like my writing, you don’t have to read it. If you don’t like my interpretation of characters, you don’t have to consume the content I put out. If you don’t like my opinions, you don’t have to follow me. People don’t “ruin characters” for anyone else, when you simply avoid the content you don’t like, and focus on (or make) the content you do like.

Have I been confused when someone shares my story with a tag that didn’t make sense and so I reached out to them privately to address the issue? Yes. 

Have I expressed my negative feelings about fics and the trends of fandom in the comfort and boundaries of my own blog, in posts that I remove when I felt that they no longer were worth keeping up? Yes.

Have I expressed my concerns regarding certain tropes, themes and kinks, opinions formed by my own firsthand experience with them, coupled with the potential damaging effects they may have on a young and impressionable audience like some of those in this fandom? Yes. 

I don’t deny any of these things, because I am not ashamed of any of these things. You don’t have to like it, but that does not make me a monster, nor does it make me a tormenter of this fandom as I have been called.

Tormenting people in fandom is making long scathing posts publicly blasting someone because you’re angry that they blocked you. Or making long public callout posts to warn others in the fandom of my many crimes – crimes which actually aren’t crimes at all – and whipping up a frenzy of frothing at the mouth hate. Or reblogging a post and hijacking it with long commentary about something that has nothing to do with you in an attempt to shame the original poster. Or getting screenshots of private conversations where someone is joking with a person who they once thought was a friend, that are taken out of context and framing them to fit a narrative you’re spinning against them. That’s torment.

This fandom has the most vicious and warped mob mentality that I have ever seen. I’ve seen it in the treatment of Adam and Joanne, I’ve seen it in the treatment of John Boyega and Kelly Marie Tran. I’ve seen it in the treatment of other bloggers, and well, I can say I’ve seen it and experienced it myself. I worry for the future of the fandom, when this sort of behavior is rewarded and celebrated, because people are so quick to simply agree with someone’s impassioned anger instead of thinking critically for themselves.

However (and this is the ‘but’ of the whole post), I cannot make this post and make all these statements without saying that this community has also been a place of kindness and support and acceptance, and I’m genuinely touched by everyone who has ever gone out of their way to talk to me. I thought long and hard about deleting this blog. I thought about just packing up and leaving our corner of the web, or moving to other platforms. I even put out a little announcement on my ao3 that I was done, I was out of here. But it didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t feel right to abandon all the incredibly beautiful, talented, welcoming, supportive and kind people that had found some peace in this corner of the web. I was absolutely blown away by the sweet messages that were sent to my inbox, and my DMs, the posts that were circulated written by friends and strangers alike literally brought me to tears. 

I know that many people here do not like me, and want nothing to do with me, and that’s okay. I know that my content is not for everyone, my opinions are not going to be lined up with everyone else’s, that’s okay too. People have not liked me from the beginning lol, that’s nothing new to me. I have always said, that I would continue to write even if no one read my stuff, and that’s still true. You are in charge of your internet experience, follow the people and consume the content that makes you happy, and block out the things that don’t. 

If you are reading this and you are one of the kind people, one of the supportive and understanding people who are on my side, I cannot say thank you enough. The time I took away made me realize that there are much larger problems in the world than strangers on the internet having negative opinions about me, and that kindness will always be more powerful than hate. The community we have built together means more to me than the bullshit other people try and start.

So, all of this is to say, that I’m back.

Some things are going to be a little different around here; I’m very very sorry I know I said I would never do this but I’ve turned the anonymous function off for the time being just for the sake of my sanity, and I’ve updated my FAQ. Writing will no longer be posted directly to tumblr, but rather a redirect link from AO3 will be posted making all tag-list requests null and void.

But other things will remain the same. We’re still going to have sleepovers, I’m still going to accept prompts (but please give me some time before we get back to sinday, as I’m still in a little bit of unease about all of this). I’m still going to be talking about my personal AU, and I’m still going to be uploading fanart and gifs and memes and shitposts and answering your questions and giving you the love you all have shown to me over the years.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for giving me the time to say my peace. I know it’s a long post, but I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for quite some time, and I’m relieved to finally express them. Please know that my posting this isn’t intended to stir up anything, or cause any drama, or relive any pain. 

I just missed you all very dearly. I hope that we can move onward and upward together, a babbushka 2.0 of sorts. It’s an exciting time to be in this fandom, and I am looking forward to experiencing everything together.

I’m sending you all of my love. 

[thewritingginger]

Herro Lovelies!  Welcome to the Holiday season. I have made up a prompt list (my first time making one) and I hope there is something that can suit your fancy

💛 ~

⬇️ Prompts & Rules for requesting are below the cut ⬇️

Rules for prompt requests:

Can pick up to 2 prompts from either or both prompt lists

Can request a female or male reader (haven’t delved into writing for male readers yet but more then happy to try)

Can request reader with more then one s/o (platonic or romantic)

No character x character 

Can give any specifics if you want; Body type, Height, Body mods, etc..

And lastly be nice beans :)

Fandoms:

Obey Me!

Castlevania

Ikemen Sengoku/Vampire

Mystic Messenger 

(Can request one I hadn’t listed and I’ll say if I can or can’t )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Naughty List (NSFW & Angst Prompts)

 “Only good girls/boys get gifts for Christmas.”

 “Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap.”

 Sucking on ‘candy canes’ 😉

 “I have a special present for you.”

 Single during the holidays [Angst]

 Reader or s/o dresses up in a little festive outfit (Tell me who/of what)

 “You smell like gingerbread, makes me want to take a bite.”

 “Tell me baby, have you been a good boy/girl all year?”

 Sees someone else kiss s/o or reader under mistletoe [Angst]

 “The stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed on Christmas.”

 “Someone had a little too much spiked eggnog!”

 Wandering hands under the dinner table

 “I need you to pretend to be my s/o.” “Why? You hate me!”

 “Wrapping presents”

 “Oh, that kiss didn’t mean anything.” [Angst]

 “Let me help warm you up.”

 “Oh, you’ve got some powdered sugar on your face let me get that.”

 “These cookies look delicious but . . . you look better.”

 Drunken confession; one-sided love [Angst]

 Steamy phone times for those cold nights apart

 “What do you want for christmas, baby?” “To dominate you.” (Dom.Reader)

 “Your family hates me!” [Angst]

 Surprise Visit (long distant relationship)

 Fun time good time while visiting family  

 Starting the New Year with a bang 😉

Nice List (Fluffy & Funny Prompts)

 “You’re all I want for Christmas.”

 Playing in the snow

 “You look so beautiful in the Christmas lights”

 “You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.”

 Wearing matching Christmas pajamas

 “Ah, we’re snowed in, I really wanted to go see the lights with you.”

 A Christmas dinner for two

 Visiting the family

 Decorating the house together

 “Your feet are so cold!”

 Reader can’t get home for the holidays and S/O tries to cheer her/him up

 Baking together

 Jesus wasn’t the only one born on Christmas, reader goes into labor 👁👄👁

 Gets Cocoa together

 Family Photos (Reader & S/O w/ Kid(s))

 Late night cuddles

 Holiday proposal

 Bringing home a “Charlie Brown Christmas tree” (kinda wonky/ sparse etc.)

 First time seeing snow (Reader or s/o’s first time?)

 Burning the Christmas ham >.<

 *Achoo* Looks like someone might have caught a cold

 “Do you trust me?”

 “Babe, have you seen my jacket?”

 “I should put you on the top of the tree.”

 Christmas Morning

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Like I’ve stated above I’ve never written a prompt list myself so I hope they are ok. Also I did sprinkle in a few angsty prompts cuz idk I thought it might be interesting and I still haven’t gotten around to writing any angsty/heartbreaking things. 

Masterlist

[coincount]

the last of us part ii sentence starters. JACKSON

I don't know what happened.

You go half way across the country with someone...

Maybe I was starting to buy into the whole... cure business.

Maybe I just wanted to do right by her.

Because of her... they were actually going to make a cure.

The only catch... it would kill her.

Think of all the lives we'll save.

C'mon, baby girl. I've got you.

We should head back.

About what we were talking about earlier... I can't say I'd've done different.

I'll take it to the grave, if I have to.

Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack.

He told me a joke and I thought of you.

It's pretty late and I've gotta get up in a few hours.

I wanna show you something, just give me one second.

Well, that didn't suck.

What is the downside to eating a clock? It's time consuming.

Oh, shit. Fuck.

I heard you had quite a night after I left.

I... she kissed me.

We're broken up one week and you make a move on my girl?

Oh, fuck, this is awkward.

I'm messing with you, man. I don't care.

It's kind of fucked up that you did that.

We've got reports of infected out north.

Can't imagine they got much sleep.

Shut up. I was just about to get up.

Heads up, you're the talk of the town this morning.

It was a strange night, man.

Just tell her you never saw me.

Where is your fucking loyalty?

I don't want to hear what that bigot has to say.

You be safe out there.

Those boys have been up for far too long.

Watch yourself. I mean, there's too many sightings of infected recently.

I was gonna check out the creek trails.

Will you get your girlfriend to the stables, please?

I shouldn't have kissed you in front of all those people.

You wanna fuck him up?

Fuck yeah! I mean - frick. Don't tell your mom.

Get off of her, you monsters.

You're gonna like this route.

Run your routes. Mark your logbooks. Clear any infected you see.

You run into anything you can't handle, you come back.

What were you dreaming about?

You were doing your teeth grinding thing.

Grab your gear. I wanna show you something.

You sure you don't wanna do this when the sun's out? And it's warmer?

What are you doing wandering around out here by yourself?

You did all this in the dark?

She seemed out of it these past few days.

Stop being weird, you're freaking me out.

I'm not being weird.

We can't all be as graceful as you.

It's too high.

Eyes on me. Stop looking down.

Consider it an opportunity to work on your fears.

How about I work my foot up your ass?

We can figure it out.

Find a way to lure him out.

Do you hear yourself?

What is going on with you?

Should I say congrats?

I fucking knew I couldn't count on you.

I want what you want, but not at any cost.

Fuck it. I don't give a fuck... I'll do the whole thing myself.

Fuck... my shoulder.

This is a bad idea.

Where's that lookout?

That's how you do it.

Fuck, I'm so lost...

Horse tracks... where's the patrol?

How come we never talked about this stuff?

I got the impression that you didn't really like her.

I've grown to like that tattoo of yours.

You wanna see something spectacular?

Come on, stupid.

What do you think of this view, huh?

I'm gonna guess this bong was someone else's.

That's where the next lookout is.

Let's get back to the horses.

Question: were you wearing those same clothes yesterday?

We're here to kill infected, not to look fancy.

You're way too reckless.

You'll probably die from hypothermia from wearing canvas sneakers in the snow!

You know how you're gonna die?

Ha! Did I ruin your punchline?

I bet they've still got supplies.

What do you know about this place?

Infected almost never make it out this far. We usually catch them on the outer perimeter.

What are you doing tonight?

Some people were talking about sneaking out.

You think anybody out there is still making movies?

What if they're all just like us? Just surviving day to day?

Looks like infected did this.

Got more blood over here.

I hear infected inside.

How the fuck did they get in there?

I see a bunch of different tracks.

Nice throw, by the way.

How'd that runner get in here?

What's the most infected you've ever taken down on patrol?

Let's keep it quiet.

Help me up there? I wanna look around.

Alright, let's figure out how to get in there.

Are you clean?

Please die of old age and not because you get infected. I really don't wanna have to shoot you in the face.

This way.

Here. Fix yourself up.

I see spores in there. Masks on.

Remember. I don't wanna have to shoot you in the face.

Keep it extra quiet.

Let's make sure the rest of the building's cleared out. And then get the fuck out of here.

What do you think, hit the runners first?

You know what? I'm impressed with us.

Man, the guys are not gonna believe our numbers.

Let's go to the next lookout and take a fucking break. We earned it.

You see a way out?

You're just gonna hurl me up through that hole in the roof.

Careful when you get up here! It's pretty windy!

Storm's really picked up!

How far are we from the lookout?

Weather's getting worse! Should we turn back?

Where are you!

Just trust me.

Let's make sure it's clear.

They... did a lot to survive after the outbreak.

There's gotta be a generator around here somewhere.

I bet you could mod your gun with this gear.

There's something behind this!

It's obviously a sex den. That's why he didn't tell you about it.

It's porn.

It's a gas mask bong.

God, he was so smart.

Does weed go bad?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

We're gonna be stuck here a while, right?

Can I ask you a question?

Scale of one to ten. One being like... absolute trash, and ten being life-altering... how would you rate our kiss from last night?

Why are we still talking about this?

You're infuriating.

You make me wanna go back outside into that blizzard.

Gimme your hand!

We're gonna have to run!

There's too many of them!

I'll cover you, get going!

Where the hell'd they all come from?!

Hey, you got a gun?

Hope you're a good shot!

Keep up with us.

We gotta warn everyone... come back with a clean-up crew.

We gotta live through this first.

We gotta move! Get to the door!

That door isn't gonna hold them for long.

That's our way out!

You keep those infected off of me!

You need me to take over?

Just keep those infected away!

Make those shots count!

How did you get this scar?

I told you a real fucking story.

Oh, you want a bite mark?

You're supposed to be on patrol.

People are counting on you, you get that?!

Why aren't you at the fucking lookout?!

I don't like you riding solo, we don't know what's out there.

What if they need help?

Be smart about it, yeah?

Save your bullets!

You scared us.

We'll just ride out the storm and get out of your hair.

You are nothing but lucky.

Where the fuck have you been?

You all act like you've heard of us or something.

Get off me!

Who are you?

Why don't you say whatever speech you've got rehearsed and get this over with.

Don't you fucking move.

You stupid old man.

You don't get to rush this.

You're okay, you're okay.

Where is that noise coming from?

Get the fuck off me!

You're gonna fucking die!

We didn't think anyone was gonna show up.

You want what I want, right?

I'll fucking kill you.

Could I sit down, please?

She wants to make sure you're eating.

So they just get to get away with this?

What if we get hit by hunters again?

I'm leaving tomorrow. And if you wanna come with me, great.

You have no idea what you're walking into.

You can't talk me out of this.

I couldn't get to the horses.

We'll figure something else out on the way.

You can still change your mind, you know.

I just don't want you to feel like you have to.

You go, I go. End of story.

What do you need? I can go get it.

I wish I could let it go, but I can't.

That's not going to fucking happen.

Grab some ammo.

Get going. You're losing light.

[searchingwardrobes]

Not the Type: 2/7

Thanks again to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for putting this event together! Also thanks to @hookedonapirate​ for her beta skills. For my non-American readers, I hope I explained everything in this chapter, especially bust-throughs, adequately enough. I don't know that I've ever seen that aspect of cheerleading portrayed in a movie before (though I could be wrong). But if you search google images for bust-throughs, you'll see pictures of what I'm talking about.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

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At the next game, he wasn’t in the stands. Not that Emma was looking or anything. And she wasn’t disappointed. Nope, not at all.

“Earth to Emma!”

She jumped and turned to Ruby, who was squatting with her hands cupped in front of her. Ashley was across from the brunette, doing the same.

“We haven’t got all day,” Ruby grumbled.

“Sorry,” Emma told them hurriedly. She braced her hands on their shoulders as Ariel, her spotter, came behind her and grasped her waist. Emma jumped up into the girls’ cupped hands. They dipped with her, bending their knees together, then popped her up to chin level, with a light assist from Ariel. Behind them, another stunt group lifted Jasmine up above their heads. Down below, Mary Margaret and another girl pulled on the ropes to hoist the giant bust-through to an upright position. The bust-through they had spent hours making last Sunday afternoon, only for it to get obliterated in mere minutes. Making the bust-throughs for the game and the posters to hang around the school would take away from much needed practice time, so they came in on Sundays to do it instead. Emma had chafed at it initially - they all did, really - but the girls ended up having a blast every week. It still wasn’t fair that they were taken away from their athletic training to do 1950s crap for the boys, but oh well.

When the bust-through post was close enough, Emma grabbed it. Farther up, Jasmine held it as well. On the other side of the bust-through, the rest of the squad was doing the same. The stadium speakers suddenly thrummed with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and the fans surged to their feet. Below Emma, the football team thundered past with a feral yell before tearing through the yards of poster paper. Ariel braced her thighs and Emma tightened her core so she wouldn’t fall. Every damn time, she felt her life flash before her eyes. The only comfort came in her absolute trust that Ariel would catch her. She discarded the post, and behind her Ariel counted out loud, “1, 2, 3, hup!”

Ruby and Ashley bent their knees, then pushed through with their arms to pop Emma up into the air. She kept her core tight, her knees together, toes pointed, and her arms out in the shape of a “T” so the three girls could catch her neatly. It was a simple stunt, actually, and not as high or dangerous as most Emma was used to. They just didn’t usually do stunts on hard packed turf with twenty large high school boys rushing past.

Half the girls ran around as fast as possible to pick up all the bits of poster paper, while the other half hoisted up the pvc pipes they used for the posts and rolled up the ropes that held the bust-through. Those had to be reused every time.

Arms loaded with crumpled up poster paper that smelled of glue and tempera paint, Emma raced off the field as fast as she could before the opposing team came running out not caring if they bowled over a five foot five, ninety pound cheerleader.

She really hated football season.

The girls shoved the remains of the bust-through into the trash, then slid the pvc pipes and ropes underneath the bleachers to put in the cheer supply closet later. Then they lined up on the sidelines for the kickoff, their poms shaking in the air.

“Gooooooo Knights!”

Like every other game, the marching band followed the kick off with the school fight song, and Emma was busy high kicking when she saw him. Killian stood out like a sore thumb - the only one in the student section not chanting, “fight, fight, fight!” Instead, he was lounging back against the bleacher behind him, glancing around at his fellow students with a mocking expression upon his face. Emma felt her lips curl up into a smile - probably the first time she didn’t have to force one during this exhausting Rockette’s-style dance. Her legs burned as usual when the song finally ended, but it didn’t bother her quite as much when Killian caught her eye and winked. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing and spun away from him with a tilt to her chin.

“Push em back!” Mary Margaret, their captain, yelled. “Ready? Go!”

The girls all chanted together, going through the motions of the cheer. “Push em back, push em back, defense push em waaaaay back!” They went through it twice before efficiently moving into their stunt groups. Ruby and Ashley tossed Emma into the air this time, with Ariel giving her an extra boost. In the air, Emma twisted her body in a layout, the rush of it sending adrenaline through her veins. It only lasted a moment before her stunt group caught her in their arms, but Emma would never tire of the thrill that the brief moment of weightlessness brought her.

Emma popped out of the dismount with her arms above her head. “Go Knights!”

She never had to fake enthusiasm when she got to do a stunt like that. Her eyes caught Killian’s again. Both eyebrows arched, he managed a half bow from his seat in the stands, both arms outstretched dramatically. Emma shook her head with laughter, though his obvious admiration of her skills sent a thrill through her. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes at him.

Just then, Emma heard the loud grunts and collisions of a particularly nasty tackle. The crowd gasped, and next to Emma, Mary Margaret dropped her pom poms.

“David!” she cried out, then her hands flew to her mouth.

Emma let out a cry too when she saw her brother lying motionless on the field. Instinctively, she reached for his girlfriend, and Mary Margaret threaded her arm through hers. The cheerleaders all took a knee, but Emma and Mary Margaret never let go of each other.

“Get up, get up,” Emma whispered.

David started moving his legs, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. He was able to get up without the aid of the coaches hovering over him, and the crowd cheered. He had a slight limp at first, but his leg must have just been stiff because his stride soon became normal. He took off his helmet and grinned and waved at the crowd. The cheerleaders stood again and waved their poms above their heads in celebration. Next to Emma, Mary Margaret was still shaking a little bit.

“He scared me to death,” she told Emma.

“I know,” Emma replied, and a shiver went down her spine as she thought about how bad it could have been. David was always pointing out that she and Mary Margaret could fall out of a stunt and break their necks just as easily as he could, but it felt different. Football injuries just felt way more common, and then there were all those retired pros with neurological problems. David said that playing at the college level was unlikely since Storybrooke High was just a double A team, and she was secretly glad. The less he smashed his brains in, the better.

David was the big brother she never knew she needed, accepting her, teasing her, and irritatingly trying to protect her from the moment her prickly thirteen year old self had arrived in his home.

He had also sat on the sidelines at how many gymnastics classes? Classes she had dreamed of taking since she watched Gabby Douglas win the Olympic gold medal on TV when she was eight years old. Then, when Emma was twelve, Simone Biles became her hero. A former foster kid winning Olympic gold? Emma didn’t think such a thing was possible, but Biles gave her hope. Then Ruth Nolan made that hope reality.

“Whatever your dreams are, Emma,” she had told her, “I’ll invest in them. It’s what a mother does.”

Emma was behind, of course. She’d had school friends as she grew up who taught her the basics on the playground - handstands, cartwheels, back walkovers. She’d even learned to do back handsprings in the backyard of one of her foster homes. Still, her goal to make the high school gymnastics team seemed almost impossible. Then she read about Misty Copeland, the star principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater who didn’t start dancing until . . . thirteen. Surely, if she could defy the common thought that girls had to start ballet at three or four to achieve greatness, then Emma could defy the same thought in gymnastics. And with the support of Ruth and David, she had. She’d made the gymnastics team as a freshman at Storybrooke High.

Then, after one amazing season on the team, they had received the devastating news: the state of Maine was cutting high school gymnastics completely. Ignorant politicians spun it, of course. There would still be a state meet each year where gymnasts would represent their schools in individual competition. It would just be privatized, the politicians explained, saving taxpayers thousands of dollars. Privatized was a fancy way of saying that only gymnasts in clubs at private gyms could compete. Clubs that cost an extravagant amount of money. Money that Ruth Nolan simply didn’t have.

And that was how Emma Swan ended up a cheerleader.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You and Mary Margaret still wanna stay over at my house?” Ruby asked after the game as she slung her cheer bag over one shoulder.

“Of course we do,” Mary Margaret replied. “Right Emma?”

“Yeah sure,” Emma said vaguely as she pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook out the loose waves. Cheer ponytails were so tight they gave her a headache. Of course, as a gymnast, she’d had to put her hair in an equally tight, equally hairsprayed bun. She rubbed at her scalp. Maybe she should chop her hair off like Mary Margaret. No, scratch that, she didn’t have the flawless skin and cherubic face to pull that off like MM did.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked with a glint in her eyes. “Killian lives there now, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with what a foster brother is. Of course I know he lives with you.”

“Just wanted to be sure you could handle the sexual tension,” Ruby said, bumping Emma teasingly with her hip as they headed to the parking lot.

“For the last time, there is no sexual tension between me and Killian!”

“You did have cheer sex with him.”

“Mary Margaret! I thought you didn’t buy into that crap!”

“Did I just say that out loud?” MM’s face was crimson.

Ruby threw her head back and guffawed. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Emma.”

“God, if you two don’t stop . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

Emma grasped for a good threat. “Smother you with a pom pom!” she finally blurted out, waving the one she still grasped in her hand in Ruby’s face.

MM literally collapsed against the side of Ruby’s car in hysterics, and even Emma lost it. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all simultaneously exhausted and electrified from the game. Once they calmed down, they tossed their stuff in Ruby’s trunk. There was only a pleasant chill to the air this early in the season, so Ruby put the top of her convertible down, and Emma leaned contentedly against the headrest as the wind rushed past. The football team had won tonight’s game, and there was a spirit of celebration in the air as Ruby drove through the parking lot and out onto the street in front of Storybrooke High. When kids and even adults noticed a red convertible with three cheerleaders in red and white, they raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Go knights!”

“You know, it would mean a lot more if they were cheering for our victory instead of someone else’s,” Ruby commented dryly as they cruised through Storybrook’s only light after it turned green.

Mary Margaret leaned between them from the backseat, which surprised Emma, since the brunette was usually all “safety first.”

“Well, that’s all gonna change come December 5th ladies when we-”

Ruby lifted one fist in the air as she joined Mary Margaret in her cry of, “TAKE STATE!!!”

“Now wait a second, slow down,” Emma cautioned. “We have to place at regionals first.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, Storybrooke has dominated regionals since we were all in kindergarten.”

“Well, if there’s one thing gymnastics has taught me, it’s to not get cocky, so don’t jinx it, okay?”

“We also need to have confidence,” Mary Margaret added, giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Confidence, not pride. Now sit back and put on your damn seat belt.”

“Intense much, Emma?”

Ruby tilted her chin and practically howled at the moon. “Someone needs to. GET. LAID.”

Emma lunged over and clapped her hand over Ruby’s mouth before she could add anything further. “Don’t. Say it.”

“God, Emma, she’s driving!”

Ruby pinched Emma in the side with her free hand, sending the blonde jerking back to the passenger’s side. “Why Emma, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian Jones knew that Emma Swan was just down the hall from his bedroom - keenly aware of it. Just as he had been aware of her since the night he’d first seen her. He had been completely honest when he told her that it was her expression and not her body that had drawn him in. If he’d wanted to ogle enticing figures in short skirts, he would have just been staring at the entire squad since the game started. But it was Emma Swan’s clearly irritated, flashing green eyes that had managed to tear his gaze away from Tolkien. He wasn’t sure what she had against the marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie,” but the hatred clearly ran deep.

He clenched his jaw as laughter floated down the hall from Ruby’s room, and he adjusted the knobs on his guitar effects pedal to distract him. Granny had been abundantly clear that he was to stay far away from Ruby’s friends.

He was a little offended at Granny’s lecture, to be honest. As if he were a dog in heat unable to ignore the scent of females.

Killian strummed his electric, then adjusted the feedback again. Halfway through Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” he’d pushed thoughts of Emma Swan far away.

Until he glanced up in the middle of a frankly ridiculous, out of control guitar solo to find her standing there in his doorway, slack-jawed and staring. She was tantalizing in a teeny, tiny pair of shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. He managed not to drop his guitar and flashed her a lopsided grin as he continued to play.

“Emma!”

The girl in question jumped a foot in the air, clutching her hands that held a purple toothbrush to her chest. “Shit, Ruby!”

“What are you doing?” Killian’s foster sibling asked from the hallway.

“I, uh . . . went to brush my teeth.”

“Um, the bathroom is that way.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Emma mumbled.

Killian winked at her before she scurried away, still strumming. So maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt the delicious tension between them. This was a pleasant turn of events . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma grumbled at herself under her breath as she squirted toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She couldn’t believe Killian had caught her staring - practically drooling - over him. The way he’d smirked at her as he continued to play left no question that he knew she was checking him out. She was pretty sure Ruby knew it, too. Yet in her defense, how was a girl supposed to ignore an attractive guy when he was playing the guitar?

Emma started to brush, a little too vigorously at first. She was irritated with herself, but she didn’t need to scrub her gums raw, so she slowed down. She almost jumped out of her skin when Killian came through the open bathroom door behind her, but she calmed herself before he noticed. He winked at her as he retrieved his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and got some toothpaste. Emma arched a brow at him as she continued to brush. Somehow, the idiot managed to smile at her charmingly even as he worked the toothbrush around his mouth. She rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection instead, but that didn’t work either. His gaze only found her reflection in the mirror, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She almost choked on her toothpaste.

Then he spit, rinsed, and ran his hand across his mouth in exaggerated, satisfied fashion. “Ahh,” he said, then bowed to her and left.

Emma scowled at her own reflection in the mirror. Stupid attractive eyebrows. No one was supposed to look that good brushing his teeth. She finished brushing, rinsed, then headed back down the hall to Ruby’s room. Her friends stopped chatting the minute she walked in.

“What?”

Ruby arched a brow. “Please, Emma. I caught you drooling over Killian when you were supposed to be brushing your teeth.”

Mary Margaret pointed an accusing finger. “And you’re smiling.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she tossed her toothbrush into her overnight bag. “So I’m smiling. So what?”

“So, you don’t normally walk around smiling. It’s not the natural resting state of your face.”

Emma laughed as she plopped down on Ruby’s bed with her friends and grabbed some potato chips. “The natural resting state of my face?”

“Yeah,” Ruby explained. “Take MM here. She naturally smiles. Just walks around smiling. You - not so much.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma muttered around a chip, “so I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Emma lifted a hand the minute she saw Mary Margaret’s face. “I think he’s cute. That’s it. I’m not saying I like him or that I want to date him, just that objectively I can admit he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute, Emma,” Mary Margaret pointed out, “that guy in there is not just cute.”

“How is he your foster brother anyway, Ruby?” Emma asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh, that. Well, Granny knew his mom from way back. They used to come visit every summer when we were kids. Anyways, when Killian’s dad left, he asked if she’d take him.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, his dad just dumped him here? And where’s his mom?”

“She died of cancer a few years back.” Ruby shrugged. “And I don’t know, his dad wanted to go back to England or something. Killian gets pissed whenever I bring him up, so I’m not really sure. He has a brother too, but Liam’s in the Navy.”

Emma fell silent as she grabbed more chips. As she munched, she tried to imagine being sent to a new town, new school so your dad could . . . what? Live his own life with no responsibilities? It was pretty screwed up.

The sound of an electric guitar filled the apartment above Granny’s diner once again, and Ruby let out a huff of frustration as she stomped to her door.

“Kill, seriously? Can you stop with the guitar already?”

“I live here too,” Killian shouted back.

“Both of you shut up so I can sleep,” Granny yelled at them both.

Mary Margaret and Emma caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. Ruby groaned then slammed the door shut.

“I’m serious, Emma. If he starts dating you, maybe he won’t be around here so much, driving me insane!”

“That’s not very romantic, Rubes,” MM scolded.

“And remember, Emma Swan doesn’t date.”

“Emma Swan needs to stop referring to herself in the third person.”

Emma didn’t have her poms anymore, so she threw a pillow at Ruby’s head instead.

[funkymbtifiction]

What’s been your experience of knowing a person of each Enneagram type?

It’s nothing if not interesting. 😉

1s: can be principled, dutiful, and reliable. Their pet peeve is for people to be rude, irresponsible, inconsiderate, or late. I’ve known an sp 1 and a soc 1. The sp 1 does indeed resemble a 6 due to content fretting, low self esteem, terror of getting it wrong, and general anxiety, but shows 1 behaviors of obsessive cleaning, a desperate need to control everything, and rigidity in setting up “house rules.” In so doing, she has denied herself anything that is not “useful,” which I find terribly sad. She has no room for pleasure in her life. The soc 1 is far more inclined to be assertive, to correct others, to point out what they are doing wrong, and to show her anger. Much less self doubt.

2s: ah, 2s. I’ve known a few marginally and one “sort of” well, since I spent ten days with her on a visit to another state. She truly reminded me of Molly Weasley in her bustling about, her attending to everyone’s numerous needs (and ability to keep us all in line), her pride in doing things for everyone, and her sensitivities. At one point, her daughter told her, “MOM, STOP MOLLY WEASLEY-ING CHARITY! SHE’S FINE. SHE DOESN’T NEED WATER. THANKS.” Ha, ha. I liked her a great deal, but it amused me how defensively she drove – under stress, I saw her 8 come out, though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. We all snapped to attention whenever that happened.

3s: I admire their work ethic but… the one I know offline has to find some way to impress people, no matter what. If that is in showing you his muscles and making sure you know how far he biked today, so be it. It used to be because he was proud of his professional life. Since retirement, I have seen him struggle enormously with having a sense of purpose and trying to find one that doesn’t hinge on his non-existent work. That is what worries me about 3s – getting old, and no longer having society regard them as “useful and essential” is HELL on them. Please, make sure, if you are a 3, to do the internal work on figuring out who you are, and recognizing your own worth as separate from what you do, before you reach that age.

4s: I have known a lot of 4s, some healthy and some not. I have two delightful healthy ones in my life right now – an sp/sx 4 and an soc/sp 4, and they are indeed different. The sp 4 is more internal and less aware of or inclined to change herself for others; the soc 4 looks outward, and is highly attentive to other people. Sp 4 can take on others’ pain and burdens in a sense and feel overwhelmed by it – and with both of these beautiful girls, I’ve seen it turn them toward compassion. But they do tend to run high on “drama.” It’s not a song, it’s an opera. I knew an unhealthy 4 once who was hell-bound to remain miserable and a victim wallowing in her pain and thwarted (almost sadistically gleefully) anyone’s attempts to help her rise above her bad situation. She wanted to stay there. And she drove everyone who knew her insane. Eventually, she lost all her friends due to her being the wet mop all the time -- which of course, fed into her sadistic happiness at being miserable, abandoned, and unloved.

5s: can be callous at times, just because they are so lacking in emotional self-awareness and so fixated on logical solutions, but they will give it to you straight if you ask for it. They tend toward severe social awkwardness—think Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. Most inclined to disappear five minutes after you meet them and remain unseen until you leave. I knew a five once, the father of a friend, who would call out hello to me as he walked right past me, straight down into the basement, where he hid for hours among his books. Given he had a house full of giggling, silly girls, I don’t blame him. He was truly Mr. Bennet.

6s: can be either the warmest, funniest, most loyal people you will ever meet – or the biggest pains in the butt, and I say that as a 6. I know one other sp 6 and he reminds me of myself, just older and male – we both are hilarious, we both tease people to establish a rapport with them, we both crave feedback and support from trusted others, and we both swing between concern and optimism. But unhealthy, paranoid 6s are out in force right now freaking everyone out about the COVID-19 and the world doesn’t need that. It needs HOPE. So for heaven’s sake, put down the freak-outs, the paranoid accusations, the wild conspiracy theories, and accept that your worst-case scenario projections are just that -- the product of your own scared mind. It may or may not happen, and trust me, 6s, I know damn well that your worst fears usually don’t happen anywhere except in your head.

7s: are enormous fun to go on vacation with, but can be flakes. Lovable ones, but still flakes. They promise more than they can deliver and then avoid you rather than face up to the music when they realize they don’t want to do what they promised. They are hilarious, witty, optimistic, and their enthusiasm is infectious, but sometimes they fail to realize that not everyone wants to be endlessly teased, mocked, or come home to a mountain of stuff followed by a maxed-out credit card bill. Life is not always a joke, sometimes it is serious. And they are inclined not to finish a serious conversation if it in any way makes them uncomfortable or feel like they’re about to confront part of themselves.

8s: I have only known one and… there are things I like about her. Her courage. Her ballsy attitude. This woman made a place for herself in a man’s world, in a time when that was not done. She bulldozed her way to the top. Unfortunately, she never shut off the bulldozer. She has burned bridges behind her, made countless enemies, and gets into foolish personal and legal fights because she refuses to back down from anyone, and will turn anything into an argument. She lost my mother as a friend, because she thought bullying her was a good idea. My mother set up polite boundaries and the 8 trampled them, something my mother does not forgive. Something 8s need to remember – what is fun for you (you consider fighting “bonding”) is not always fun for someone else who is not an 8. Being an 8 is an asset, but only if you learn to tell the difference between a threat and a non-threat.

9s: are some of the most precious people on earth, but also the must frustrating for me, because I see them being mercilessly treated by the rest of the world, which tends to walk all over them. I wind up counseling 9 friends who are frustrated at ‘not being heard’ but cannot find it within themselves to assert themselves in any way, or think they deserve to be heard, or know how to recognize what is NOT okay. Being a 9, a peacemaker, someone able to understand everyone’s point of view, is a valuable gift, but you cannot use it for good if you are incapable of believing you deserve good things, too.

Each Enneagram type has a health level. You can find them at the Enneagram Institute. Figure out which level is ‘you’ and start working toward the next one up, through conscious choices. You don’t have to stay this way. Your life is yours to command.1s, you don’t have to be perfect. 2s, you don’t have to please others. 3s, you don’t have to win every time. 4s, you don’t have to stay in a place of self-loathing. 5s, you don’t have to fear trying things. 6s, you don’t have to be afraid all the time. 7s, you don’t have to run away from everything. 8s, you don’t have to turn every discussion into a fight. 9s, you don’t have to give everyone whatever they want. It’s time to take back your life.

- ENFP Mod

PS: Most of these examples come from my extended family, none of whom follow this blog, so if you’re one of my friends (unless you are the 4) -- I’m not talking about you. ;)

[kswhateverspace]

The Ruby and Christina Discord Drama

To my followers who have no idea what this is about, feel free to ignore this if you’d like. This is a long post showing everything that went down with the kicking of 3 members in a discord I’m a member and Admin of. I will share a bit, and then the rest will be under a cut. 

Jaye (hernameisjaye/ @reneesgoldsberry​) and I didn’t feel it necessary to address the kicks of the server publicly and just thought things would die down and people would move on. That doesn’t seem to be the case and so while I don’t want to give any attention to Krow (grimreich666), the continued attack of Dandybear has made this post necessary. On December 9th, 2020, 1 member was kicked from the discord. Michele (kerozenangel). She was kicked specifically because of this post she made

It was incredibly rude to all the writers in the discord and also @/everyone about it. The removal at this time was specifically to protect the mental well being of the writers who occupied the discord. In addition, for being continually antagonistic in discussions with other members.

Jaye and I are not big on public warnings in regards to someone’s character and the way one thinks. The only thing we correct is off topic discussion and only if it gets out of hand. Behind the scenes we talk a lot if certain members are acting up, and mentally keep track on how many instances are occurring, if behavior seems to be improving etc. You don’t see it, but when issues arise it is discussed, usually in length, and then we decide how to proceed. We also don’t publicly report when a complaint is sent to one of us about a member, but we have been sent them and they are taken into consideration.

On December 11th 2020, 2 members were kicked from the discord. Krow (grimreich666) and RVCBard (eshusplayground)

There is quite a bit to unpack here, but I am first going to address the tumblr post Krow made. I never planned on replying, just letting it go. But Krow continues to antagonize a member (dandybear) of the discord who had NO involvement in her removal from the Discord and it’s time all sides are put out for those who are not aware, or those who don’t have the full story to judge. I will be addressing the youtube video at the very end of this post.

I’m going to address the tumblr post in question in sections.

“So it has come to my attention that we cannot have a civil conversation in the Ruby and Chirstina Fandom. Nearly a month ago I gave up my own small Ruby and Chirstina Discord to join another manged by Kswhateverspace.”

Civil discussions are had all the time, what occurred began as a civil discussion until Krow made it personal by telling Jaye to learn her own black history. That was the reason for the kick. Personal attack. I will post screenshots of the entire encounter at the end. As for managed by me, I am just an admin, and did not start out that way. I offered to help organize the discord and tried to create events to make things a bit easier to navigate and more fun. I originally invited Krow to this discord after seeing people asking for links on tumblr to it.

No one was asked to give up any server, it was simply an open invitation.

“I thought that the community would be a good place to vibe with other members of the Ruby and Chirstina community. At first it was welcoming until I started writing my own Fan Fic for the Ruby and Chirstina ship. It had been users by the name of Dandybear and Agent Sheryl and a few others started to bury the work I posted and they would shade me, barely would I get comments on my work because they would fill the submission page with there personal conversations.Now I’ve written two novels professionally and I am working on a third and out of my 15 years of writing I can safely assess when somebody is trying to blackball or bury someone’s work because there work isn’t meeting up to snuff. And as for me I always supported their work because Christina and Ruby content benefits everyone, now I didn’t get into AO3 for the comments I did it because I love Chrisby.”

This is completely not true. There is a channel I created dedicated to posting work only, exactly to prevent the burying of work. Krow would actually break the rule from time to time of that channel, which is that it’s for links to works only, not discussion of said works. There is a separate channel to discuss. Despite the breaking of the rule, I never actually removed her creator role and instead just let it slide. Also, “Shading” never occurred.

“Yet it was only a week ago that me and a few others we noticed the mean girls clique right away as it consisted of Danybear, Frankie, Kswhateverspace and Agent Sheryl, who had came from my server to join.”

I want to address this on a personal level. I have literally spoken to Krow on a voice call, for 2 hours, with Frankie also in attendance, as well as Agent Sheryl. We had been doing the drop a random pin on the map game and it was a pretty fun time. Prior to this instance, I didn’t have the most favorable view of Krow as she tended to not have a filter when posting and I wasn’t always comfortable by what that was, however, I take my role as admin seriously, and in particular being a white woman in a predominantly black server, I never wished to step on anyone’s toes or out of line. Any worries or concerns I ever had or have, I always defer and clear with Jaye. After this game, I became more comfortable in general with her presence in the discord, but she continued to post fairly unfiltered views that would generally derail a discussion etc. and overall behavior within the discord did not make for a very comfortable place a lot of the time. I say this as myself, and from fellow members at the time of instances. I was at war with myself on this a lot of the time because I was the one who invited Krow, but no one can predict how people will be or mesh.

At this part of the post I will address Krow’s accusation that Dandybear “shaded her”. The screencap Krow uses at the end of her post.

In case it isn’t clear, You is a tv show and not literally @ Krow in case that’s what was thought.

“The egregious abuse of power there Admin and Owner Hernameisjaye is sickening; as her rampage all started on Thursday when Jaye went on a rant saying that Christina was racist. And to me and another black female members acknowledged her opinion but we disagreed with it as we had watched the show several times and understood the premise of the timeline within the Jim Crow Era. Not wanting to fight we had calmly stated our disagreement to her baseless claim and yet she still would not let up even after we have both took the high road as mature adults to leave the conversation.”

I will let screenshots of the entire discussion speak for themselves. I will preface the screenshots with the rules of the discord, which were last edited on December first.

I’ll speak on rule 6 here.

“In the event that we decide to kick/ban a specific user, that individual will receive a message from the admin team notifying them of the final decision.”

At then end of the day, Jaye and I decided to not inform those who were kicked the reason. It wouldn’t have changed the result and in all honesty, we were tired. If an issue wants to be taken up with that, it’s valid. However, no result would’ve been undone.

In most channels on the server, there are pinned messages about what a channel is for as well. This channel was always intended to be a difficult discussion channel, and those that enter are agreeing to engage in difficult discussions as it relates to the show. Krow broke rule 2 by making it personal. You can see the whole chain below. As for RVC, she made it clear she was no longer comfortable in the server and didn’t trust the admins, and decided to turn a situation that didn’t directly involve her to be about her.

After this, RVCBard was kicked. Throughout the life of the discord RVC was consistently combative and antagonistic towards members who’s views or opinions she didn’t agree with. Or if someone disagreed with her. It was an issue that would flare up often, but looked past because we wanted the server to be inclusive even at the detriment to the overall health of the server. We received multiple complaints from different members about RVC with the average complaint being that she made the user uncomfortable due to her approach to different discussions in varying channels. All of the above was taken into consideration that night, and was essentially the final straw.

And despite not being comfortable with approaching mods, she sent me the following after all this went down.

For clarification, I was not present at the time and woke up to multiple messages and had to catch up on my own. 

In the past, RVCBard had contacted me with an issue she saw in the server.

I talked it over with Jaye, and it was decided thirsting channels would be created to help address the problem. I show this as an example of good faith that when issues are brought to our attention, we look into it and do something about it if we’re able.

“It wasn’t long ago nearly 48 hours after I lost a family member that was dear to me that this mess ensued, I didnt carry my personal issues into conversation as I enjoy Christina and Ruby as a get away. Yet it is damn near sickening how an Admin can kick someone without warning because your losing an arguement. This isn’t an after-school special and it’s sad that this show that delivers it’s take on Black History and pain cannot be understood even by the simplest of minds, as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship to understand that we see Christina and her flaws as well. I own 2 Discords myself and NEVER would I go out my way to make somebody feel uncomfortable like the way they did me.”

I was offline and asleep for the majority of this night. And this was the reaction to the news of her family member.

While the loss of her family member is tragic, and I sympathize with the loss, it is not a free pass. The kick happened because of hostility and personal attack. With a history of problematic behavior.

I wish to highlight this part from that paragraph

“as they are too busy oversexualizing and insulting the Ruby and Chirstina Ship”

I honestly have no idea who this is supposed to even be at. The entire discord is dedicated to Ruby and Christina. Oversexualizing? Really? Acknowledging Christina’s racism, in whatever form it presented itself in, is in fact seeing Christina and her flaws.

It is at this point I’d like to share the message Krow sent me after her removal and my response.

Now onto the video that was posted Jan 1st, 2021 that has resparked the drama. Which, the video is actually the worst offense done so far. I will address particularly awful points with timestamps that you can reference for yourself. Credit to @femeivor​ for helping with grabbing timestamps as I’ve stayed up incredibly late writing this all up.

To highlight the targeting that is going on in this video, I would first like to present the controversy surrounding LITTD chapter 5. Dandybear upon receiving valid criticism of her story replied with the following, which Krow decided to piggyback on.

With that shown, let's get onto the video titled “Dear AO3 Fanfic Writers”

1:41 - "there was this whole thing where they couldn't have a mature conversation as adults and decided to kick me and several other group members out for not feeling that way"

- If you’ve made it this far, you know how exaggerated this is.

2:10 - Says a couple of writers from the server are "abyssmal and you know it comes from their fucking area"

- Spoiler alert, at the end of this video she says her discord is a place to not be judged.

6:54 - huge rant about people having Christina be William in their fics even though that's canon compliant

- For this I shall simply copy and paste her own fic’s summary:

- When Ruby get's the chance of a lifetime to change her life working under Tic's strange yet introvert distant cousin Christina, she gets more than she bargained for. As Christina a well known lawyer struggles to free herself from her fathers abusive shadow after the death of her brother William and her elder brother Caleb; she seeks to gain control over the lodge her father has denied her as his only heir. Yet first Christina must clear her father and lodge members names a task that seems all to impossible under the watchful eye of her fathers righthand-man; yet such a task is proving itself to be difficult as she is taken by her new P.A. As Ruby finds out how to read the strange yet alluring Christina, a waiting William comes to make her dreams come true yet are all dreams true; yet she is sucked into into a world of wizards and dangerous turns. Can love come at such a time, or will the half-truths threaten to rip the two apart?

- I will also add here my OWN comment on said story

https://archiveofourown.org/comments/357964615

8:00 - straight up calling out Davenports, just not by name.

8:30 - says it's "disgusting" to have Christina spend a lot of time as William which is, again, canon compliant

11:00 - calls some fanfics "crap" and "torture porn for the soul"

11:14 - "I'm not trying to stifle creativity!"

- *stares into the camera like I’m in the Office *

11:33 - calls out a fic for including attempted rape when she has previously praised a fic that included CSA

11:50 - "you don't really understand these characters, you don't really understand her at all"

- Christina is not given some EPIC backstory in the show and literally no one knows that much about her. Only what we can perceive and deduce. Aka, tons of headcanons from everyone.

13:00 - now telling people what they should be writing instead

13:34 - mockingly calling out Dandybear again, this time with more than one fic

14:10 - once again telling people what they should be writing

14:30 - mocking people for writing smut then says “I don’t caaare - I mean I like that - I love smut….is that it?”

14:55 - "and I notice that some of you guys start out so great in your fics and then it goes down hill!"

- Is this encouragement or stifling creativity?

15:13 - calling out another fic

- I’m tired, are you tired?

15:33 - "Who the fuck writes this shit? Oh my fucking god! Are you guys just dumb? Are you guys stupid?"

16:00 - "Some of you wanna tag and say 'this is a Ruby and Christina Discord server [mocking noises] and if you don't agree with us we're gonna kick you out for no fucking reason!' You know? Shut the fuck up!"

- And if you’re THIS far, you very well know the reason and it definitely wasn’t NONE

16:16 - "you obviously don't know what Ruby and Christina mean to real fucking die hard fans"

- I personally love a classic gatekeep.

17:06 - "But for some of y'all to write these disturbing, disgusting fanfictions"

17:54 - calling writers racist for including racist characters in their fanfics for a show that included a lot of racism.

18:41 - says people are wasting her time because they're writing fics that she doesn't want to read.

18:49 - "This isn't for all fanfic writers. This is only for a couple of 'em. You know who the fuck some of y'all are. And shame on you for even doing this and writing this and trying to fucking push this kind of fanfic and this garbage off."

- If you’re gonna keep beating a dead horse and bringing up drama that you created again and again, start saying people’s names instead of hiding behind blanket statements.

19:07 - "And that's the whole problem why I decided to do Krows Korner. Because I'm so sick of these fandoms and even some of these professional writers running their ass around here, delivering garbage and people being a bunch of sheeple to say that this shit is the greatest shit ever. Honey, it's either you have dyslexia or a reading complex because I'm not really fucking seeing what you thought was so great about this fic." 

20:20 - "Join my Discord server if you wanna know the full, TRUE story about what happened at the other Discord server and how these people supposedly claim that they love Ruby and Christina but they support a racist fanfic writer who clearly does not understand about black relations, but lies and decides to be a dick every-damn-where"

- The clearest target at Dandybear herself is in this rant here. Which you can recall above from the screenshots I posted, that when confronted with valid criticism, aims to do better because we all have room for growth. Including racists characters can always be tough because they are uncomfortable characters as they are meant to be, but run the possibility of being too much. However they are not a direct reflection of an author’s view.

20:52 - "If you wanna join a fandom on Discord that doesn't judge you for liking what you like as Ruby and Christina, and even if we disagree, you know, still not have fear of being kicked out because you disagree, come join my shit. It's not even worth the headache, sweetie."

- Interesting take after making a whole video attacking writers/people you hate from your previous discord after you were removed for breaking rules aka personal attack. “doesn't judge you for liking what you like”

21:30 - "I don't care any fucking more. The drama is done, it's settled"

- Considering you have brought this drama up again, after your removal on the 11th of December 2020, I think you might still care.

21:33 - "I figure I would clear a record, basically, to what happened. And, you know, signify the issue that these motherfuckers is crazy. They're crazy as hell."

Everyone at the server had moved on and enjoyed the holidays, but this video has reopened a closed case due to the clear targeting of a writer who happens to be popular. Almost this whole video is an entire disguised attack towards her.

I sincerely hope this clears the air on everything that happened and continues to happen. You have the full story and can judge for yourself whether or not the kicks were justified. If you feel they weren’t, that’s fine and you can now join a new discord server of more like minded people. This continued targeting of Dandybear is unacceptable, and those of you in contact with Krow should not be allowing this to continue. Dandy is a real person like all of us, and if you have a valid criticism of her fic, you can do it in a rational manner. Or stop reading. Like every person ever has done in every fandom ever. Dandybear had no involvement whatsoever with the kicks of the server, they are simply a member and a writer in the fandom and this has gone too far.

If you feel like this server isn't the place for you anymore, I encourage you to find a new place to express yourself in the best way you'd like. We all came here to love Ruby and Christina and have a place to do so in an organized fashion. If you don't like the rules, or consider this place unsafe, I hope you find a community that aligns more with your interests and world view.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

@theeyethatbinds​ Girl SING IT. SING IT LOUDER FOR THE GIRLS IN THE BACK, SWEAR TO GOD.

Like I’m gonna be real wit y’all I was looking forward to le Comte for a while, but I was always side-eyeing Jeanne. He’s a blunt hermit and grump and 100% mood, so I hoped his route would give me more insight into how I feel about him.

Ladies. When I tell you. It was EXCELLENT. I mean there are so many gr9 routes in the game, I don’t want to take away from them, but there was just something about his that hit me so hard???? (MY KOKORO BROKORO)

More under the cut since his route won’t be out for a little while (we still got Isaac, then Theo, then Jeanne), as a little treat. As usual, pls don’t read if you don’t want spoilers, thanks!

Okay so going into this route I was fully expecting the big sads. I mean, if history has taught us anything it was that Joan D’Arc was a badass but good lord, that doesn’t mean the people of her time were kind to her. (I need to do more thorough research on her, so if I’m getting any of her pronouns wrong or neglect something, I do apologize.)

That being sad, I was like aight DECK MY SHIT WITH TRAGEDY, JEANNE. And at the beginning it’s p fascinating. He’s very ornery and resistant to any kind of consideration or attempts at friendship MC extends. But eventually, after a good deal of persistence, he relents little by little.

I’d also like to level with y’all for a sec. Being someone who knows a great deal in regards to the kinds of mental and emotional shit Jeanne struggles through, I think they handled that part of the route so, so well. Granted, I’m not the kind of person to launch a crusade over different writing styles--but for me it just feels all the more poignant when it makes sense; when certain dispositions or trauma are conveyed with that depth. To me, it made 100% sense that Jeanne would be so against accepting other people into his life immediately.

He and Mozart vibe because they’re so similar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s comfortable letting just anyone in--much less a complete stranger. I think it’s more that Mozart and Jeanne share a kind of indelible bond/mutual recognition through their talent, actually. They were both prodigies, absolute geniuses in their fields (military vs. music) but their social skills were shot to hell for the very same reason. To be brilliant--beyond one’s potential posthumous legacy--tends to mean being hated. Plus, they’re both principled to absolute extremes. When they’ve decided on something, they will not waver. They’re stubborn and austere, but behind those walls lies a molten core of sensitivity.

This is important to understanding him, I think, before I move forward.

While one could argue that their reaction is a result of that deficiency of emotional and social support (which I entirely concede does contribute to the matter at hand, it shouldn’t be overlooked) I think the real crux of the matter here is control. Think about it. Among the oldest residents in the mansion (let’s say that were born more than 100 years within the range of the present period of the game) are Mozart, Jeanne, Isaac, and Shakespeare. What do they all have in common?

Extremity. For Mozart, it comes in the form of a kind of OCD, as perfectionism. For Jeanne, it is generalized anxiety and PTSD. For Isaac, it is primarily social anxiety--but it’s still noticeably severe. And Shakespeare runs around with a knife, insecurity through the roof, literally unable to trust anything or anyone (psychosis? schizoaffective? I’m really not sure, these are all ballpark assessments based on the evidence I have). In order to adjust to their new surroundings, there was a cost--and in some ways their coping mechanisms become noticeably maladaptive. They were born into eras that were mercilessly unpredictable, and the only way they knew how to cope was to was to either take the blame--make it a personal failing that tragedy struck--or try to immerse themselves into their craft. They all seek to regain some kind of control (this is even visible in Vincent, to a degree--painting was an escape from his emotionally turbulent world).

Granted that’s not to say that the others don’t struggle with such issues at all, I just feel like the characters from more unstable time periods tend (as a general trend) to mirror that instability within their personalities.

All that being said, (I apologize I am a tangent-monger and love meta), Jeanne’s self-imposed isolation is only partially caused by the above dynamic. Yes, he is unwilling to let people into his heart for fear of betrayal. (It’s almost like an entire nation clamoring to watch you burn for something you didn’t do after spending your entire life and talents trying to protect them would do that to you, but I digress >:| ). But there’s another devastating and potentially less obvious reason for keeping people out.

He thinks he deserves it.

Loneliness, melancholy, aimlessness. These are all the punishments that he incurred on himself after a life of what he conceives to be considerable sin (hahaha battlefield enemies go ripppp). Whether or not he was operating purely out of a sense of duty, even if he felt sympathy for his enemy combatants, it’s not enough. And the condemnation of his king, of his entire nation, only served to magnify that self-loathing to a dangerous degree. (Don’t get me started on his parents I’m still so angry >:| they more or less disowned him since he was constitutionally weak as a young boy, and thus could not serve as an adequate farmhand. Don’t work? Don’t eat/live).

It’s hard enough living in a reserved way because you’re afraid of getting hurt, but to think that you deserve it when hurt finds you, no less? And my favorite part, that he’s so profoundly sure that it is an extension of a personal, fundamental failing? That for a person to survive, they must be strong, that there can be no other way--that there is no time or space for ruminations on fairness or unfairness, there are only those who manage to survive and those who die.

Now my friends, esteemed comrades, legendary sluts. Is that enough for us, Cybird asks, are we feeling enough pain quite yet? Fuck no.

Most of his route after we get over the hurdle of his hesitation is just him. Being. Bashful and gentle as all FUCK. Like he is the definition of “I'll kill you, but also I’m babie.” For instance, she insists on teaching him how to read and write at night when she finds him trying (and not succeeding) to read “The Ugly Duckling”. Yes I mean the children’s book. I CRIED THE FIRST TIME AND I’M CRYING NOW. So, naturally, MC buys him a notebook to practice with and he puts his name in big letters on the front. When MC sees this, she asks him about it--wondering why he would given he’s so self-conscious of his own writing (boy writes all squiggly like a little kid because he’s never done it before ;-;).

The scene goes a little something like this:

MC: Wh....whatcha go there Jeanne? Jeanne: ? My notebook? MC: I...mean that you wrote your name on it? Jeanne: Yeah? MC: Why? Jeanne: ._. It was a gift from you, and I figured it'd be hard to practice if I lost it...so I put my name on it... (HE WAS SECRETLY TOUCHED I BET AND IM--) MC: Why such big letters? Jeanne: So people can spot it quickly, obviously MC, inches from crying and laughing: Jeanne: Mademoiselle??? Why are you laughing? MC: Because you’re cute, Jeanne!

Like. They start out so rocky and Jeanne is so SIGH. I guess I’ll agree if it’ll get her to stop looking so sad and ask me to join her for stuff. But then he just can’t help but go full softe at how patient and kind she is, starts feeling comfortable just...being who he is deep down. A man that’s always hoped for better in life, a person that only ever takes up his sword to protect--that has an incredibly pure and clear heart, despite so much pain.

And good lord, they are GOD TIER romantic slow burn???? Swear to everything holy, I was BEGGING for them to make out by like chapter 10, I was just suffering for most of the route until the bangarang premium. Here’s probably my favorite moment in the entire route:

Basically Sebastian and Mozart pull out all the stops trying to bring Jeanne and MC together (once they see Jeanne show some interested in her). And so Jeanne asks her to join him in the courtyard the next morning, and they’re playing with Cherie (Jeanne’s pet baby white tiger). Besides being ungodly adorable--because Jeanne invited her for the sole purpose of hoping to see her delightfully surprised--Mozart begins to play a love song nearby. They don’t name the tune, but Jeanne canonically starts singing along (I wholeass cried, I WANT TO HEAR HIM SING????). And so she asks what the song is about, and he explains that Mozart once played it for him, but he couldn’t make out the words at first. Mozart explained that it was a love song that speaks to the difficulties of being in love (the worry, the strife) but also the beauty of the intensity and passion. He goes on to say that even when he learned the words, it never made much sense to him back then--it never resonated.

He’s singing softly with a fond look, and so she asks, does he understand it now? And he looks her dead in the eye, and says “...I think I’m starting to.” Like. AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT LOSE MY MIND AT THE TENDERNESS????? WHAT A SMOOTH MOFO????? MAN RAISED TO BE A SOLDIER, NO KNOWLEDGE OF ROMANCE OR WOMEN, AND KILLS ME IN MILLISECONDS?????? I DEMAND JUSTICE. (Or it’s just me thinking sincerity is the best aphrodisiac, but that’s beside the point.)

This has been your quarantine 2d boy meta and yelling, provided by your local mod Minnie. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to get to the things I’ve been procrastinating on while reliving/dissociating about one of my favorite rts in the entire game. Stay safe and well out there y’all, peace out!