#mostly because I have nothing constructive to add and don’t feel like I have a place in the discussion

[teeteepeedee]

me at my dash for the last month: 🤐

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Shirt On.

Pairing/Au: Sub!Joel X soft dom f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 4645

Rating: + 18, MDNI, NSFW. I’m not joking with this one, if you’re a minor please stay away from it.

Summary: Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his flannel shirt. That’s it, that’s the fic. LOL

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but if you decided to stay, the rest is under the cut.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with feelings, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamic, sub!Joel, soft dom f!reader, reader wears jeans and a top (and of course Joel’s flannel), has breasts and vagina but apart from that no other specific description of her is given, pegging, use of a double strap-on, mention of plugs, lube, edging (m receiving) , orgasm control, oral (f receiving with the strap-on), mention of anal play, squirting, a little bit of nipples play (m receiving), ass slapping, swearing, dirty language, mention of threesome, mention of nipple clamps, mention of Joel conservative environment as a child (? I don’t know, i imagined that), a whole lot of fantasies made explicit, pet names (mostly good boy, honey, baby), use of “mommy” once, Joel is so soft and needy in this one, reader is cheeky, brief Tommy appearance, mention of alcohol consumption, I think that’s all but if I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

I love sub!Joel so much and and I've been thinking about writing it for a long time so here we go!

It’s my first sub!Joel fic and pegging fic, I’m so nervous about it, I really hope it’s good and you will enjoy it.

One inspiration for this fic was this work by @milla-frenchy : Her, if you haven't read it yet and you love sub!Joel RUN to do it because it's amazing and she’s so talented.

The other one was the sex toy described lol

As usual, English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so it’s all my fault, I apologize for any mistake.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, I would love to have some feedback on this (please, be kind) !

Thank you so much for reading❤️

Joel is unloading materials at a construction site when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He puts the brick pack down and rubs his hands on his jeans, takes out his phone and unlocks it. There is an unread message from you. 

“Baby, I’ll wait for you at home at 6. Don’t be late” 

He quickly types a reply and sends it to you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He smiles. 

He had never done anything like this before, but with you everything was different right away. 

——————-

When he first met you, at Tommy’s birthday party, he thought you were a wonderful creature. 

You were talking to someone he doesn’t even remember unlike your bright smile, your contagious laugh, your breathtaking body and your impossible-to-miss charm. 

The pair of jeans you were wearing hugged your hips and waist perfectly and your tight top highlighted the curve of your tits so deliciously that his mouth started watering instantly at the sight. 

You turned to him probably sensing his eyes on you and your eyes weren’t even close to be intimidated or embarrassed. 

You held his gaze fiercely and he knew in that moment that you were going to be troubles in the best possible way. 

He had always been quite successful with women but he suddenly felt like someone destined to remain on the bench who has to compete with the team's star player.

The challenge excited him anyway, he decided he had to find out something about you.

He entered the house and found Tommy busy opening a bottle of wine. He asked him who you were and he replied with a smirk, "Maria's coworker. Why do you ask? Do you fancy her?” 

“I don’t even know her!” he retorted. 

“Yeah but you think she's hot” he stated raising one of his thick eyebrows and looking at him with a sardonic grin.

Joel snorted “I knew I shouldn't have told you anything”

Tommy bursted into laughter and said nothing else.

And he didn't do anything, there was no need. 

Joel couldn't imagine it but you know exactly what you want and you know how to take it.

He was at the buffet table taking a beer when you approached tantalizing him “You think you’re going to ask me for my phone number or not?” 

“Why?” He tried to play it cool and nonchalantly.

“Well you've been staring at my ass all night, so… either you want to know where I bought these jeans or you like my ass, cowboy, what do you say?” you waited, delighted by the state of confusion you had caused in him.

He hadn’t expected it in the slightest, no one had ever been so cheeky with him.

And then you added “The thing is… I like yours too, so we could do something about it”.

Of course you sneaked off the party and you immediately jumped at each other in Joel’s truck after finding a fairly isolated spot along the road, sloppy kissing and hands everywhere like you were both starving. You haven't even made it to his house.

Of course you ended up sharing contacts because you just had had the most incredible sex and wanted more. 

Many dates and many months later you moved in together.

The harmony between you two was strong from day one and never changed.

You know how much he needs to have his coffee in the morning, he knows how you love your eggs, you know he always fail to put his dirty laundry into the basket in the laundry room, he knows he’s the one that has to take care of the garden because you have absolutely zero skills and you kill the cacti too. 

The domesticity between the two of you always feels like the most precious gift.

You talked many times about what you like in bed and you have confessed to Joel that you love to be the dominant part in the relationship. 

Joel had no difficulty accepting and embracing it, he is happy that you are the one taking the reins. 

He is always in charge at work, his construction company is doing really good and has several employees, he is used to being the boss and making decisions all day long. His mind is sometimes so tired of that that coming home to you and let you decide for him allows him to shake off all the stress that is weighing him down.

“This is actually good for my own peace of mind” he told you “I feel free” 

You have set rules and boundaries and you talked throughly about what you want and don’t want from this dynamic. 

You both respect and understand each other. You love each other like there’s no tomorrow, Joel told you he has never been this happy before.

And experimenting with him is the most exciting things in the world. He’s prone to it, even more than you thought at the beginning. 

So when you brought up to him that you would love to try some anal play he accepted straight away. 

He told you that he had done it before, he had never been on the receiving end but he was more than happy to do it with you.

You’ve proceeded by step, experimenting with your fingers, while he fucked you senselessly like you wanted to, then it was Joel himself who suggested trying a plug. 

“You sure about that, babe?” you asked “I'm happy that you want to indulge with me in this but I wouldn't want you to do it just for me”

“No,” he assured you, with the sweetest smile “I’m not doing this just for you, even though you know how much I like it when you’re satisfied. I love what you do to me with your fingers and I think I’d like to… um… try something more.”

“okay then, let’s dig into it” you replied with a little smirk. 

He grabbed your laptop and you searched online together, sitting on your couch with your head resting on his shoulder as you explored site after site giggling together in total complicity.

You can’t forget the thrilled look on his face as you decided to order a trio of plugs in different sizes.

And you can’t forget the moans he made the first time you tried it. 

The trust you’ve built has made it truly special. Joel knows he can abandon himself to you, you’ll never do anything he doesn’t want and you’ll always take care of him as much as he does with you.

Joel’s protective side makes him sensitive and attentive to your needs. For everyone else he’s just a somewhat grumpy, reserved man and a tireless worker, but for you Joel is the most thoughtful man you’ve ever known.

He is amazed by the patience and delicacy you put into getting him where you want him to be, and you’re completely fulfilled by how much of a good sub he can be. 

Sometimes he gets denied for days and it’s all about you coming repeatedly on his tongue or he’s only allowed to watch as you masturbate, other times you ask to be fucked several times a day or you demand to see your tall, broad, strong and gorgeous man bent over on your bed while you play with his ass.

Every session was pure bliss, he was a little bit flustered to try the biggest plug but he ended up getting an orgasm that was out of this world. 

And now he's ready to try the strap on, which makes you incredibly wet just thinking about it.

As with the plugs, you chose together which one to buy and once you decided you were both so excited that you allowed him to fuck you and come inside you after a whole week of chastity, edging and ruined orgasms.

___________

Joel leaves work at 5:30, gets in his car and curses all the way home against the traffic that threatens to make him late. 

He parks in the driveway and opens the door “I’m here, my love” he quickly says as he puts his keys on the cabinet in the hall. 

“I'm in the kitchen, babe, come here”

Joel rushes to your command and the sight of you leaves him speechless. 

You're standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing only his flannel shirt left open and the strap-on you both chose. The leather straps wrap around your hips and a large dildo stands out between your legs.

“It came in the mail today,” you smile at him, extremely pleased by the rapt expression painted all over his face.

“Oh fuck, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he breathe, his eyes feasting on your body. 

He loves it when you wear his clothes, he loves seeing you walk around the house in his shirts and wearing his boxers and he loves it even more when you let him watch you masturbate in just those.

He tries to get closer to you and you raise one of your arm stopping him “no, wait, not yet. Look at me a little longer” and saying that you take the big cock in your hand and begin to stroke it slowly “talk to me darling, tell me more about how it seems to you”

“It's big,” he gulps “and it looks great on you.”

You have chosen a type that stimulates both of you, so you have a dildo inside you. With each stroke you feel it penetrate a little deeper, widening your walls.

“What else?” you coo “What would you like to do now? Would you like to suck it?”

“Yes, my love, I would like that, please.” 

He’s fixed on your hand moving on the fake cock. 

“Eyes on me, baby, what else?” you gently scold him

His look shifts immediately on yours as he answers you huskily “I wish you would fuck me with that. Please”

You move closer to him, without stopping touching the dildo, you raise your hand to gently stroke his raven curls lightly streaked with silver “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby, I’m going to split you open and you’re going to be the best boy, right?” 

He closes his eyes, abandoning himself to your caresses and he whispers “yes” 

You tug his hair “louder, babe” 

“Yes, my love” 

“Perfect. Kneel down for me, now” 

He immediately goes down, in front of you, on the kitchen floor.

“Take this cock, babe, make it all nice and wet” you purr

You put your hand back in his hair and bring him closer to it.

You can see a sparkle in his gaze as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to lick the tip.

You feel a shiver of pleasure run through your body seeing him like this, malleable like clay in your hands, on his knees, hungry, totally involved in what you were doing, so endearing and beautiful. 

“More, baby, show me how good you are” 

He opens his mouth wide and bends over the cock starting to make it disappear into his mouth, his lower lip trembling slightly. 

He raise a hand to grip the base but you slap it and say firmly “take it fully in your mouth first” 

He frowns and he gag a little when the tip bumps on the back of his throat but immediately gather his control back. 

“good boy, now suck. You can use your hand on mommy’s cock” 

He looks up at you in gratitude as he circles the base with his fingers and begins to suck greedily.

The entire length is now coated in his saliva as he moves up and down on it continuing to suck and every time he goes down, the dildo inside you hits a deeper spot making you moan just as much as he does. His big hand is all wrapped around the silicone cock, the other sunk into your hip above the leather straps and his grunts are like the cherry on top. 

You continue to praise him and he’s enraptured by your gaze and you can clearly spot his cock hardening in his pants, it strains against the hem of his work jeans. 

“You like that huh? So good for me” 

He swirls his tongue around the tip and goes down flat on the underline and swirls around again taking the mushroom between his luscious lips and sucking on it.

He’s still fully dressed and yet you could swear you could come just by seeing him all engrossed in sucking your big fat dildo.

His nose hits the end of the cock bumping into your clit as he tries to put it all back in his mouth, gagging around it, trails of saliva slide down his chin, your thumb smear it all over his jawline “Just like that, baby, keep going for me”

Your fingers are tangle in his curls and you push him down the length arching your back, making him gasp for hair, his eyes start watering a little but he keeps sucking. Pressure is building on your clit at every brush of the base on it and the other end sink deep into you all slick and soaking wet with your juices. He’s basically masturbating you sucking the dildo.

You’re about to give in and you convulsively yelp “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, Joel”

He sucks at an even faster pace, stroking the base and lingering on the tip every time he comes up.

You toss your back and shut your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your first orgasm washing over you, panting hard and feeling you knees buckle.

Joel continue to suck quietly until you regain the ability to speak.

“You’ve been very good, darling” you coo “get up for me now”

He let the dildo slide out of his mouth with a lewd pop and stands up and you order: “turn your back and put your hands on the table for me.” 

He does so and you lean back and wrap your arms around his waist. You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth as you try to calm down.

“Well, we have discovered a new talent in you” 

“I- yes” he mutters

“Don’t be shy baby, there’s nothing wrong with sucking a dick” and you leave a trail of kisses on his back 

“You’re right” His voice is uncertain, as if he had just realized how much he liked it.

You move to look him in the eyes “it’s all good, honey? do you want us to stop here?”

He shakes his head.

“Words, baby”

“No. No, my love” 

“Good. You know you can always use the safe word, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I know… I was just thinking…” 

“What, honey? Talk to me” you stroke his arm trying to reassure him, peering into his big brown puppy eyes.

Joel grew up in a conservative environment and you know that he distanced himself from it as soon as he could and he is certainly sure he can tell you what he would like, you decide but you always allow him to express himself. 

Every now and then a kind of reticence resurfaces in him, and it melts your heart the way he tries to fight against the beliefs that were put in his head as a child.

“Do you think we could try a threesome sometime?” 

You giggle lightly caressing his cheek “Sure, we could do that. Why were you so afraid to ask me?” 

“I didn't want you to think that you're not longer enough for me. I mean you’re perfect, absolutely perfect and I love you and-” 

“Babe” you interrupt him “it’s okay. It’s your fantasy and I find it hot too. Would you like to do it with another guy?” 

“Yes…uhm..I would”

“Mmmm God, that would be so hot, you trying a big meaty cock…deep in your throat”

He blushes instantly at your words and the corners of his mouth curl into a smile “I- yeah, I think I would love to try”

“I would masturbate while you do it and then I would let you fuck my cunt while the other guy’s cock would go deep in my mouth. How does it sounds?” You lewdly whisper to him.

“Oh fuck- yes” he reply, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“You’re such a dirty boy, I love that. How do you get so good at sucking anyway?” you ask him mischievously

“Well, I learned something by watching you, you’re the best at it.” he states with a proud tone. 

“Mmm you’re such a flatterer. Now shut up and let me play” you tenderly scold him kissing his lips “unbutton your pants” 

His hands fiddle with the button and the zipper and as soon as he’s done you order “put your hands back on the table”

You leisurely slide one hand into his pants and make room in his boxer to reach his already hard cock.

You flick the tip with your fingertips gathering his precum and you slide over his length wetting it, you can feel his breathing thickening and a sigh of relief leaves his mouth.

You pump him until he reach the edge, throbbing in your fingers, then you stop, a muffled sound of impatience run through his lips. 

You smile, your gaze chained to his “keep calm, love”

You take a small remote control out of the flannel shirt pocket and show it to him. “Look what I have”

He mumble “oh my fucking God”, his voice cracks a little and your lips curl, even more pleased “I forgot about it” he admits. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be fun” you giggle “let’s go to our bedroom now”

He immediately follows you and once in the room you lean on the piece of furniture in front of the bed and you demand “take off your clothes” 

He does it slowly as he knows you like it, first boots and socks that he throws in a corner, then his jeans that he leaves lying on the floor and finally the shirt, that also ends up on the floor at the foot of the bed. With every part of his body revealed to your eyes you lick your lips thinking that you will never get used to seeing such beauty. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, tiny freckles scattered on his skin, his narrow waist, his slightly soft tummy, the thin line of hair that ends up hidden by his boxers, his meaty thighs… you can never get enough of him.

He remains in a pair of boxers, standing in front of you. “Good boy, take them off and lie down on the bed,”

There is sweetness in his gaze, trust and a desire to abandon himself, at this point you can read him like an open book.

You're taking off the flannel you’re wearing when he looks at you pleadingly “Can you please keep it on, honey?”

“You like seeing me like that?” You smirk

“I do. You’re so damn sexy” 

“Okay, baby, I can do that” you grant and he smiles gratefully.

Once he's lying down you take the lube from the nightstand and then you climb on the bed right next to him, your fake cock still shiny with his saliva.

His naked body is still and waiting for you, and you take his cock back in your hand “you did so well for me” 

“I’m glad, my love, thank you” he whispers

You pinch his nipples with your other hand, pulling and twisting them between your fingertip, teasing them while you keep stroking his lenght slowly. 

“God, I love your nipples, baby, they drive me wild, so pink and turgid and delicious.” 

 You run your tongue over his chest sucking them into your mouth. 

“I think we should try nipple clamps sometime, would you like that?” you say before taking back one of his buds between your lips. 

“Oh - God, yes. Yes, please, my love” 

His moans go straight to your cock-covered clit, you feel it hardening against the soft and smooth silicone.

You know perfectly well that he is much stronger than you and could easily tip you over onto the bed and trap you with his weight, but he won't.

This awareness makes you feel powerful and the mere thought of how far you can go with him and still be safe makes you dripping wet.

You take him back to the edge again and then you stop, his cock is throbbing and the tip is angry red and leaking profusely. 

His hips slightly twitch a couple of times and you can tell how desperate he is for a release but he knows that he can’t come until you say so. 

You start pumping him again after a couple of minutes and you can hear the stifled moans crowded in his throat as you take him on the edge again. 

He’s such a mess of sweat and cries and glassy eyes but he’s managing to remain still like you ordered to.

“I can’t believe I have such a good boy all for me” you purr “You want my big cock in you? You want that?” 

“Yes, please, my love. Please” he whines. 

“Turn around for me like the good boy you are” 

He turns around and you take the lube squeezing a good amount into your hand, spreading it all over his hole, caressing it gently and penetrating it with two of your fingers.

He cries “please” 

“Don't be impatient” you say firmly slapping his ass cheek, leaving a red mark. 

“I’m sorry” his voice is hoarse and deep and you can hear his struggle in every single word which is such a turn on, he wants you so bad. 

He’s so excited and needy that he basically cries and the sound of his voice reverberate into your ears like a music.

“So sweet, my big boy crying for cock” 

“I want- please. I want it so much, pl- please” he’s bucking his hips against the duvet and you slap his ass again.

“Behave, baby” you order “stay still for me” 

You linger a little longer in his hole, moving your fingers slowly. 

“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen, you know that? Is it ready for me?”

“Yes. It’s all yours, love, please take it” he begs. 

When you finally place your body behind him spreading his ass cheeks with your hands and poking at his entrance with the tip, he leaves out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him. 

The inside dildo is still hitting you the right way and in this position you can feel it even deeper than before. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes - oh - yes, love it”

“Good” you whisper caressing his hips “we’re almost there, baby. You look so gorgeous like that, Joel. So fucking gorgeous”

You keep pushing the cock inside him, until you’re balls deep inside and you start moving, thrusting into him while the other end thrust into you.

“You’re doing so good, Joel, so good for me”

He whimpers while you brush against his prostate, lifting his butt to feel you even more, you could swear you’ve never seen anything more intoxicating.

You take the small remote that you placed on the bed and turn on the vibration at the lower setting, just enough to add that little buzz into the already overwhelming sensations you’re both experimenting.

Joel lets out a “fuck” so deep and hoarse, you feel him clenching around the cock and the vibration hits your clit and your inside too and you almost lose it.

You take a deep breath and focus on him.

“Just like that, you love taking this cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes OH GOD YES - I think - I think I’m almost c-” 

“Sssh not yet, baby, don’t be to greedy, hold it until I say it” 

You pump harder and his body tenses, you can see every muscle in his back flex while he tightens his hands on the sheets underneath trying with all his might to hold back, his face leaning in profile sinking into the mattress, little drops of sweat beading on his skin, his plumped lips open in search of air letting out moan after moan.

He’s almost incoherent by now, just babbling please and fuck and begging you to let him come and you can feel yourself getting right on the edge.

You get out of him to change positions as you fear of losing control because of the vibrating dildo inside you slapping at your walls “Turn over on your back for me,” 

He turns around immediately, you make him lift his legs and rest them on your shoulders and then you go back inside him with a single thrust “OH FUCK” he wails “fuckfuckfuck” 

“Yeah, baby, do you like watching me fuck you with your shirt on? You like that, huh?” his look is ecstatic as he reply “Yes - GOD- fuck - you’re so beautiful” 

You start to pound again against his prostate, deeper into him with each movement, your tits bouncing and obscene slapping filling the air mixed with the buzzing of the dildo, until you can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

It’s too much, all too much, the vibrations, the dildo crushing on your cervix, and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen all worked up and sweaty between your legs, just losing his mind for you.

“Come baby” you order in a breath “come for me” and he throw his head back on the mattress rolling his eyes and lets himself be invaded by a devastating orgasm right after your command, long spurts of his cum painted all over your tummy and his shirt.

You can feel his whole body shaking and you hold on to his ankle as you hastily pull out with the other one and squirt all over the dildo, drenching the duvet underneath you.

You’re completely shattered and exhausted but totally appeased, no thought left in your brain but a complete state of serenity that mostly comes from the fact that you can be completely you with Joel, no disguise, no mask, no filter is needed when it comes to him.

You turn off the the dildo and let it out him, you throw it on the empty side of the bed and lie down in his arms, it’s all you want and it’s all you need now.

He welcomes you and holds you tightly as you both try to get your breathing back to normal, you abandon your head on his chest and you feel his heart beating fast behind his ribcage. 

After a few minutes of silence he is the first to speak “that was…fuck…I don’t have words. Thank you, love”

You tilt your head to look at him and he’s smiling with his entire face, his eyes sparkling and his cheek flushed and his adorable dimple showing off. 

“I love you, Joel” you murmur and your mouth reach the bald patch in his beard to place a kiss there. 

“I love you too, honey, so much you have no idea” and he gently takes your lips. 

“I’m sorry, your shirt got wet” the final part is practically stuck to your skin, soaked in sweat, cum and squirt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind at all. We’re both sticky and sweaty but we can think about that later”

You laugh and kiss him again, nibbling on his lower lip.

When you break the kiss there is a question you feel curious to ask him “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I have a question” 

“Shoot”

“Why do you like it so much when I wear your clothes?”

He gives you a sweet and slightly shy look as he replies “For starters, they look sexier on you and then…it makes me feel like you’re mine in some sort of primal sense, you smell like me and I love that you have something of me on you”

You giggle.

“Did I explain myself?”

“Yes, yes you perfectly did, honey” you reply hiding your head in the crook of his neck and inhaling his woody citrusy scent. 

He smells like home, the only one you truly feels to belong to.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Three

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Domestic Violence.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

5 Years Prior

The lilac dress you wear flows around your carefully crafted body in effortless waves. It is made from a chiffon fabric you begged your mother for nearly six months to have. Your usual attire consists of heavy satin and lace, and for your eighteenth birthday, you just want to feel happy and light for once. It takes much convincing, but eventually, your mother caves. She needs you to be happy and is willing to give you this one thing. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t gone all out on your chiffon lavender dress.

The color matches your hair perfectly, the stitching is made from the best silver thread Berry can buy, and the ribbon wrapping your waist comes from a silk farm known to be the best in all the Blues. You think it is too much for just a simple birthday, but your mother does what she wants. Events like this give you time to yourself because she is far too busy to monitor your every move.

So you are currently sneaking off to the library to get some reading time in. Your mother always berates you for your habit of keeping your nose in a book, telling you that ladies don’t read, they play music and host tea parties and other social events. While you have been trained in such things, you don’t find the same pleasure in them as you do with reading. There is something about hosting tea parties and socials with the older noble population whom you are not friends with. You don’t have any friends because your mother doesn’t allow you any.

“So controlling,” you mutter to yourself, pushing the door to the great Bonn family library. There is every kind of book you could want in this library; your father is a collector of sorts. With his connections in the merchant guild, he often makes trade deals involving rare books and encyclopedias. Venturing to the nearest aisle, you run your fingers over leather-bound book spines. “What should I read this time? It is my birthday, so maybe something special…”

You further wander, heading in the direction of the books your mother disapproves of you reading. It is mostly books on sea navigation, sailing, and shipbuilding. All information your mother deems irrelevant in your education. Reaching a section that holds a multitude of maps your father is fond of reviewing to find more ports to add to the Bonn empire, you pick up a few scrolls and curiously look at them.

One of the maps is of the Gecko Islands; Syrup Village is circled, and the familiar scrawls of your father’s handwriting dot the area around it. From the brief glances you have gotten of documents and the conversations you’ve overheard, Syrup Village is where all the ships in the Bonn Chestnut Trade Company come from. The ships are well-built and last through the weather of every Blue they cross. Abandoning the maps, you pick up a random book and open it. You are greeted with words and depictions of the construction of a lace factory. You close that book, making a face, and return it to its place on the shelf.

“Rather not,” you comment, moving on in hopes of a more interesting book to read. A few more minutes of wandering and you find a book that certainly piques your interest. It is a book on the politics of the marines, and more specifically, pirates. Your eyebrows rise in interest, and you pluck it from the shelf.

You’ve never really been informed about pirates; your mother calls them scum, and your father claims they are bad for business and nothing but conniving scoundrels. So you grow up knowing next to nothing about pirates. Walking towards the sitting area within the library, you open the book to a random page which holds a long list of pirates the marines are keeping track of at the time of the print. The main name that stands out, and that is at the top of the list, is Gol D. Roger. But the little symbol next to his name is clearly a mark of death.

“He certainly appears to be important,” you murmur to yourself, looking further down the list of names. You don’t recognize any of them, not that you are well-informed, but still, your mother gets the paper every morning and tuts over the news. You occasionally pick up the same names repeated over and over throughout the years. Pausing in step, you turn the page and just catch the words ‘Warlords’ and ‘Emperors,’ when footsteps have you on high alert. You snap the book shut and hold it behind you as your father appears, a parchment in hand. He pauses in step upon seeing you.

“Linaria, your mother is looking for you,” he speaks before eyeing the hands you hold behind your back. The book now seems like it is made of lead. “Can I presume that the book you are hiding is not one your mother would approve of?”

“It’s just a book,” you argue, arms dropping to your sides. “How exactly is that dangerous to me?”

“Your mother’s decision is your mother’s decision, Linaria,” your father says, not questioning his wife’s authority when it comes to your upbringing. “Hand it over, your mother is expecting you in the tea room.” With a grudging sigh, you do as he asks and head for the exit. Your mother is waiting for you in the tea room? Last you knew, there weren’t any events on this day that involved the tea room. Perhaps she has added an extra item to the agenda. At least you could have your favorite tea since it is your birthday.

Walking swiftly towards the tea parlor, you breeze by several maids and butlers who curtsey and bow to you as you pass. Before entering the tea parlor, you pause to collect yourself. Then, taking a deep breath and straightening your posture, you enter the room. Your mother is sitting on one of the couches, teacup in hand.

“Father said you were looking for me, Mother?” you softly speak, for ladies never raise their voices. She doesn’t turn her head to look at you.

“We have a guest, Linaria.” A guest? Your eyes follow your mother’s gaze to see a marine sitting on the couch opposite her. What is a marine doing at the manor? And one so high-ranking! “Greet our guest,” your mother hisses to you. You clear your throat and turn to the marine.

“Forgive me for not doing so earlier, I am Linaria. Welcome to the manor,” you greet like the perfect daughter your mother wants you to be.

“Thomas Collins, my fair lady, Commodore of the Marines on Kuri Island.” The man, Thomas, answers. “May I offer you a happy birthday? Your mother has sung praises of you and is very excited about this cornerstone in your life.” Your mother is telling praises of you? A shocking thought as she has been nothing but critical of you as of late, but this isn’t a time you can question her motives. Thomas rises from his seat and strides over to you, his figure towering over your small frame.

“Oh, thank you, I am very excited to see where my life takes me,” you tell him, your fingers coming together in front of you and winding together in a nervous habit.

“It would be rude of me to drop by without a gift for such a lovely young woman, and I took it upon myself to prepare something I thought would be fitting for a woman as beautiful as you.” Thomas continues, reaching into his coat and pulling out a slim box.

“Oh, sir, you didn’t need to prepare such a thing,” you say, almost stuttering over your words in surprise. You can feel your mother’s eyes glaring daggers into you for even thinking of refusing such a thing. Nonetheless, you take the slim box from his gloved fingers.

“You are to be the next Lady of the Bonn Chestnut Trade Company; I think you are deserving of your first piece of jewelry.” You open the box to reveal a delicate bracelet with flowers and gems that sparkle. It really is a lovely piece if the flowers hadn’t been roses. You force your face into one of happiness and thank him.

“It is absolutely beautiful; thank you for picking such a wondrous piece,” you reply in faux happiness, fluttering your eyelashes and plastering a smile you’ve perfected over the years. He looks pleased, very pleased by your reaction, and gestures toward the bracelet.

“May I?” he presses, and you, of course, relent, allowing the strange Commodore to carefully wrap the beautiful bracelet around your wrist. Not much is said after that, as Thomas indicates that he has to return to duty and bids his farewell. You don’t dare speak until you are sure that he is long gone.

“Mother, who was that, and why was he here?” you question, turning to your mother still sipping tea. She sighs and lowers the tea to the table in front of her before rising from her seat. Striding over to you, her cold eyes scan you.

“That was Commodore Thomas Collins; he is in charge of the marine base on Kuri Island and the surrounding archipelago.” She informs you, mouth pressed in a tight line. “And you are to be his bride.”

“Bride,” you repeat incredulously, thinking for a moment that you have misheard her. “Mother, what are you speaking of? I do not remember him proposing to me!”

“Of course not, you silly girl, it is an arranged marriage to ensure the success and power of our family and business.” Your jaw nearly drops open.

“You can’t just make decisions about my life like that,” you exclaim, your voice raised and eyes flashing in anger. “I’m not going to marry a man I don’t know and certainly not because you tell me to!”

Your head whips to the side, and you take a stumbling step backward before you even know what happens. Raising a hand to your stinging cheek, you let out a gasp at the sharp pain radiating across your face. You look at your mother, eyes filled with hurt and anger. She points her finger at you.

“You are to do exactly as I tell you, Linaria.” Your mother growls to you, seizing your chin and forcing you to look into her cold eyes. “And that means you will marry.”

Present Day

Sitting on one of the stacked crates, you stare at the little bracelet hanging from your wrist while feeling sick just looking at it. Your other hand reaches for the delicate chain, and you harshly pull on what feels like a shackle until it snaps. Then you throw it as hard as you can over the side of the ship you escaped Kuri Island on. Your wrist hurts from the metal digging into your skin, but at the same time, you feel like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

The ship gently rocks as it sails, but you find the sway almost comforting while you hold yourself and look out across the water. This is the farthest you’ve ever been from your home, and the salt air is an entirely new experience. Turning your head away from the pristine waters, you find several of the men staring at you. Right, you begged your way onto this ship; you might as well compensate them for the trouble. So you reach back and undo the clasp to your necklace and hold it out.

“Compensation,” you speak, offering the glimmering jewelry piece to them. “It’s worth a lot of Berry, that I know.”

“We don’t want your jewelry, madam,” the red-haired captain, the one who’d effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder and carried you away, speaks. You are pretty sure the others have been calling him Shanks. “But we would like to know what had you fleeing from your own wedding.”

“It was arranged,” you answer, chewing on your lip and twisting your hands together. “I didn’t get a say in it; Mother organized the whole thing to ensure the family business would remain successful and in power.”

“You must be a Bonn then,” Shanks comments, thinking over who has the most power on Kuri Island. The Bonn’s. “Who did she want you to marry?”

“The Commodore.” Several of the pirates let out whistles and shake their heads.

“Don’t blame ya’ for runnin’,” one even comments. “That is one crooked marine.” You rub your tired eyes and sigh.

“I do not wish for you to get wrapped up in my personal business. You can drop me off at the next island. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You are hardly a burden,” Shanks corrects you, eyes scanning your figure more thoroughly now that you aren’t trembling violently from fear. It is clear that you’ve been running for a while when you approach him, but now he can see little nicks and cuts on your skin and smell the metallic tang of blood clinging to your body. “I think you’ve had a long day; you could do for some rest.”

“It’s not even half-past ten.” His eyebrow rises at you, and he nods his chin.

“And you might look the picture of perfection, but even I can tell that you are exhausted. We shall talk more of this tonight; in the meantime, you should get some rest and get out of that dress. It’s very…” Shanks struggles to come up with a word to describe someone as beautiful as you, yet so out of place.

“Ostentatious?” you offer lightly. “You should have seen me with the train. My mother tried to drown me in lace.” Your light jab at your own outfit brings out a couple of chuckles, and the men are glad to see the brief smile upon your face. It is much preferred to your distress.

Shanks has directed you to his own room, for it is the best furnished for a lady such as yourself, and you can have privacy there. After changing out of your dress, you can get some much-needed sleep, and then finally the full picture of the woman he’d helped can be rendered. So as you clutch your arms to your chest and look around the cabin in curiosity, Shanks digs through a chest of spare clothing to find something your size.

You know he is the captain, but he doesn’t stand up to the stereotype you had pictured in your head about what a captain is supposed to be like. The space is sparsely furnished but homely. Maps, artworks, and a few weapons you have never seen before dot the walls, and the quilt thrown over the hanging bed in the corner looks handmade and well-used. For some reason, the sight of a threadbare and well-used homemade quilt comforts you.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much but spare tunics and pants,” Shanks speaks, taking the clothes from his trunk and turning around. He pauses in place, staring at the dirt-riddled and crusty wound on your shoulder. He’d been so shocked by your appearance and beauty he’d overlooked something so critical. “We need to take care of that.”

“Take care of what?” you question, half turning in place with a quizzical look on your face. Shanks sets the clothes on a nearby table and nods to your shoulder.

“You have quite the nasty wound on your shoulder, madam,” Shanks speaks while inspecting torn skin littered with dirt, rocks, and grass. “You must have been running on adrenaline to not be feeling this.”

“I was in a hurry,” you meekly speak, trying not to shiver as soft and gentle fingers prod broken skin.

“I can imagine,” he replies, brows scrunching together. “I don’t think you need stitches; it’s not too deep. But you are going to need it cleaned before it gets infected.”

“Very well,” you sigh. “Thank you for informing me. I will take care of that.” Shanks can’t help but snort at your words.

“And how do you plan on tending to it yourself?” The scathing look you shoot over your shoulder makes Shanks’ smile widen, for he doubts you even realize you are giving him such a look.

“I am already intruding as it were,” you snip out, crossing your arms.

“And you are my guest,” Shanks enunciates. “As long as you are on my ship, you shall be treated as such. Now please, take a seat; this won’t take long.”

You really don’t want to, for you already feel like you are intruding enough just by asking for passage off Kuri Island… but his gentle eyes are insistent. But not in a bad way. So your protest dies down on your tongue, and you do as he so gently asks.

Date Published: 11/19/23

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[rake-the-leaves]

Analysis of Ring-Verse

I’ve been thinking about the Ring-verse, which opens most copies of Lord of the Rings, and I can’t stress how MUCH of a good opening it is.

Again, it runs thus:

“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.”

It sets a perfect tone for the book and for many of its central themes. Chief among these is the sense of the darkness (which the rest of the book seeks to contrast with light), an overpowering force, one which is in many ways greater than the forces of light. And in the context of it being a sequel to the Hobbit, where the ring there was nothing more than a neat treasure, it adds importance and seriousness to the fantasy (a thing Tolkien has personally noted many scholars don’t do in their approach to reading what might be called “mere” “fairy-stories”). It feels like stumbling into a vast conflict with background, and it instills peril and gravitas.

I find it interesting how it provides characterization for the fantastical races of his world. The numbers of the rings themselves displaying the amount of magic, power, and enchantment lies with each of the races. Elves are named first (which sidenote funnily enough follows his cosmological order for when each race woke up before or after the others) and only need 3 Rings of Power to strive for magic they have and still do possess; the Dwarves need 7 Rings, a greater number for perhaps a less magically “graceful” group; and the most rings, 9, is given to Men, because they for the most part approach our current age, being mostly unmagical. The beauty of Men is not one that has passed out of this world, like it has gone with Elves and even Dwarves; needing more Rings to equal the same strength, and showing how that power is more further divided than the others displays how it is in some degree a lesser, non-magical existence that we live in reality (an almost encroachment of reality within the fantastical, at least so far as it is a remnant of what in his cosmology leads us to today’s age). Anyways, they’re characterized in more than just hierarchy; the ending part of each displays their aspects and to a degree the themes that go with them. Elves are “under the sky”, in the open air amongst that all-important thing to Tolkien: nature. Them being “under” it also suggests the nature elves to be tied to the circles of the world. Dwarves are also located in “halls of stone”; this shows their craftiwork, their striving for grandeur and home in great works of statue and construction. For Men, they are “doomed to die”, which is a peak into Tolkien’s philosophy that a story dealing with men by its nature deals with mortality; and it’s a concept he explores further in Lord of the Rings.

It’s also partly important to look at Tolkien’s theories on fantasy, specifically one idea, in which fantasy and the use of monsters as enemies rather than other men brings a story to a higher, more glorious display of human light fighting darkness. Its monsters aren’t just ideas or wholly symbolical, but also real and incarnate, a higher ambition for what can be fought. And in this verse, Tolkien introduces the origin of and the incarnation of all darkness and high evil; he makes it incarnate with a name, Mordor. It’s where “the Shadows lie”, capital S, the evil that lurks within and outside of people becoming one incarnate, the Enemy, the Foe.

The definition of who this evil is is also interesting, the lord of the dark, the “Dark Lord” with his “Dark Throne” who make One Ring. One because that is as much room that power and selfishness will allow, and because to Tolkien, darkness is more powerful than light even if the latter is more good; “history is but a long defeat” as he says. This evil seeks to control every other (every other ring), “rule them all”, and it has a terror to pursue one (it does not wait, but grows should one live through the world as static and inactive against it) to “find them” to get its hands on power however necessary. Then, the ultimate goal of all evil hearts, domination of all, “bring them”, “bind them”. The repetition of “One Ring” puts stress on it obviously, yet as each step is a progression in the plans of evil, it feels as though the peril grows in each. Whoever ends up controlling the Ring, will give themselves up wholly to evil ends, and whoever stands in their way will be made to suffer too before the end. And the other repeated word makes clear that what stands against them is “all”, everyone and everything. This is the destruction that will be brought on earth and people utterly in the success of the Ring. The final repetition, of “In the Land of Mordor, where the Shadows lie”, shows in some sense a sorrow and contempt for the gravity that this origin of evil made physical has unleashed upon the world. A darkness growing in the poem as much as it will be seen to be growing in the world through the reading of the story. Despair, that later in the story, the miraculous hope that’s held on to seems noble to fight against.

One last element to talk about is its place within the world he created. It reads in rhyme to balance the rhythm of what is given stress, as could be useful in lore, as it is a rhyme meant for memory of the history of the Rings by the Elves. This can be guessed at, as a warning of sorts by some inhabitant of the world for first time viewers. And the fact that the One Ring part is a quote from the inscription on the ring itself, places it further as a poem residing in Tolkien’s created world. The One Ring part shows Sauron’s intent for evil with the ring…

this also gives a commentary on language later. These words are through the enchantment of magic given power over the rest of the power structures within the world of Middle-Earth at the genesis of the Rings in the Second Age. Language has power, and as the inscription isn’t in English but in Sauron’s Black Speech created by him and him alone, we see how this power put in the hands of a unitary figure (who has room for only One, themself) erases the beauty of history and of living goodness that can reside in their meanings and diversity.

So… from this one short verse, it introduces themes of nature, mortality vs. immortality, ordinary light vs. overpowering darkness; as well as vital concepts outside the work, such as language, the importance and effect of fantasy. As well as introducing the reader to the rules of his world and the plot to unfold, and setting tone.

[sentienceisoverrated]

Things I miss about old tv shows:

1. Set Designs

One thing I miss most is actual tangible set designs. There used to be a handful of sets that would get used time and time again, and the characters actually interacted with them. Sets now look so damn clinical and clean, characters barely interact with them (mostly because half of all sets are almost entirely CGI) and they barely change over the course of a season or episode. Reflect your characters’ mental states by their rooms. Make them messy, dirty, have characters comment on the state of certain sets. Come on make them UNIQUE. And not in the way of just the objects either, make them unkempt or overflowed and mix up the lighting a bit.

2. Actual Episodic Structure

Most TV shows I’ve watched that came out in the last few years have had a continuous plot. Which is great. It makes me invested in the story, makes me excited for the next episode. But unless done correctly, it can feel like nothing was actually achieved in those episodes. Often it comes that a character spends the entire episode trying to do something, only for their plan to unravel right at the end of the episode and the next episode to be set up. It makes me feel like nothing was actually completed. Every episode is designed to set up for the next one and in some cases this works, but in others it doesn’t. An episodic structure is where each episode has its own individual storyline that may or may not add to the overall plot. Avatar: The Last Airbender used this structure, as did the Star Trek series (excluding season 2~ of Discovery) and BBC Merlin. A structure like this adds considerably more to character development and subsequent relationships between characters before moving on to more plot-driven antics, which in turn raises the stakes.

3. Fantasy Lighting

This, I believe, is self-describing. TV shows are too dark. I can’t see. Even if you want to establish how dark a setting is, there is still usually a source of light that a character is holding. It’s enough to make us actually see what’s going on, so let us. Please. And, anyway, it’s fiction. Doesn’t have to always be 100% realistic.

4. Filler Episodes

This comes in tandem with episode numbers. I do understand that in production the creators don’t have much time to film and edit before release. But. Where did the 20 episode seasons go? A lot of series are being released half-and-half, but even if it’s weekly, most people I know would be fine with it as long as each episode is produced to the best of the ability of the creators. I also miss fillers. Give me those character shenanigans. No plot, just pure antics. Those episodes keep me alive.

4. CGI Consistency

I will always maintain the opinion that good CGI relies on how consistent its quality is throughout a film, season or episode. Personally, I don’t care how good the CGI is so long as it remains relatively the same level throughout what I’m watching. I see this a lot in recent tv shows *cough* marvel *cough* where one scene will have the most spectacular CGI ever seen and another looks more like a low-budget animated kids show. It breaks immersion. I’m not into it. Just give me bad CGI all the way through. Or, on contrast, no CGI whatsoever. Construct scenes using actual corporeal sets and makeup. I miss funky little puppets.

(Note: this is opinion based. Feel free to agree or disagree, add or remove. I won’t contend)

[rawliverandgoronspice]

"And I genuinely don’t think either of you understand HOW Zelda turns back to a Hylian at the end of the game.

I’m sorry but these are exceptionally poor analysis and criticisms of the game and it’s cut scenes." As the anon who wrote the ask who started this, I'll just say... nah. Also, pro-tip, don’t be angry, eat a banany. 🍌 You say that all the elements give a lot of insight into Zelda, her relationship, and all that… and then just explain it in the most barebones accusatory way possible, instead of just giving a polite counter and constructively explaining WHY you disagree. Since you apparently just wanna be angy that someone doesn’t like what you likes, and explains why they criticise it, I don’t think there really is a point to argue.   Honestly, my best tip is: Eat nanner, shhhhhhh, touch grass, go sleep. Move on. Ps: Banana’s are the worst.

Also, lemme add, add some spice to your salt: “It reveals Zelda’s feelings for Link which have clearly significantly changed since Breath of the Wild.” I did not feel like they changed much at all, Zelda still feels like she’s simping for Link hard, it's just a few years later now. 😜 Extra bonus: Yeah we know why Zelda got turned back into a Hylian with no repercussions. Bc it had to happen, bc reasons-McGuffin.

Hey!

Yeah, sorry this thing escalated on your ask anon. It got significantly worse after that, so I did block the person because at some point it becomes clear they were having an argument with someone who was simply not in this virtual room and might probably not exist at all anywhere, so there was no point in engaging with a brick wall who was hurling insults based on half a paragraph taken out of context. Pretty sad way to use your free time or deploy love for the media you enjoy, but! To each their own I suppose.

But yeah, I did look it over to see if I missed something, because somebody's tone being inacceptable doesn't mean their arguments also are, but. Yeah. Zelda had her arc of going from being cold and angry with Link to learning to rely on him in Breath of the Wild already, and then literally holds the fort for a hundred years just holding on to the desperate trust that he will arise and become a hero and be capable of defeating the scourge if only she can buy him as much time as she can, which is *crazy* devotion-wise (and also active! in TotK she mostly talks about how much she trusts Link --I guess she turns into a dragon to restore the Master Sword for him, but again I don't believe she really has any other choice and it's not a struggle she must maintain over a hundred years always relying on her own resolve all the way through, so it doesn't translate as hard in my opinion). It's literally her affection for Link and her urge to protect him that awakens her powers! This arc worked great in Breath of the Wild! But TotK loves nothing more than to rethread every character's arc, except again, but less compelling and complicated and without emotional rises or character changes.

Also: a kind tumblr user out there who did not play any game but TotK, believing the marketing that you could basically jump in blind, pointed out to me that there is *no way* to catch onto any of that complexity of their relationship if you haven't played BotW (not that I think it particularly helps). Same deal with the parental thing: they did not bring up the relationship between Zelda and her dad at any point, which makes it a non-information for newcomers. While it is fine to lose some degree of nuance and be a little confused if you jump in a second videogame after the first videogame, you still need to provide something for people to hang onto, and, as I feared, the refusals to expand on BotW backstory didn't seem to help the newcomers familiarize themselves with Hyrule particularly well. Even in extremely well known IPs, it is important to re-establish the bases: jedis are sensitive with the Force, the Ring corrupts its bearer, etc etc. And this was not particularly well done here (for example: it is never explained that Ganondorf is a sorcerer on top of being a Huge Guy that will break your spine with a punch, which makes the appearance of Puppet Zelda *before* he grabs the stone extremely confusing --this relies on pre-assumptions about Ganondorf and a familiarity with the series and its tropes to make any sense, and this is yet another example of what I mean by: this game is awfully self-referential while not really standing on its own two feet).

As for the argument that Zelda was returned to a hylian because of Rauru's arm, Rauru again but ghost (??? hello again?) and Sonia (??? WHY are you here) are actually using recall on the Secret Stone? It's a cool headcanon, and honestly that would have been great and made sense (I mean, a little empty thematically again but at least a cool setup and payoff), but I see nothing that supports that in practice beyond that the power deployed is the color of gold, which, yes, is the color of Recall, buuuut it's also the color of Light and good things and the Triforce and divinity and a billion other things.

If this was what we were meant to take away, then: 1) the actual particles and sound effect of Recall should have been used instead of a vague halo of magical sparkles and 2) the Secret Stone should have hovered and glowed above her chest Laputa-style (thinking of Sheeta from Castle in the Sky, which I'm 99,9% sure was the visual inspiration anyway).

This does not happen. If them using Recall was the intent, then it's badly conveyed. But I see no textual reason to believe this is what's going on.

[undonerhapsodize]

Patience, Just for You

Part 2

BlueLock Kunigami Rensuke x g/n!reader TW: swearing, fluff, casual conversation, reader is a little odd, nice and considerate Kunigami Word Count: 7.8K

Summary: You meet Kunigami once more by chance, getting more acquainted with him in the process. His normalcy and friendliness makes you wonder, are the vibes you're getting warranted? Or are you making something from nothing at all.

Side Note: FINALLY. After A WHOLE YEAR- part 2 arrives. I’m SO sorry for how stupidly behind this is- it’s kind of ridiculous. But please stick around!! I plan to make updates on this fic more regular. Another note: I just wanna say I’m making the reader have a messy head on purpose. This could be interpreted as on the neurodivergent spectrum and/or as  mental illness. While I don’t think I could ever fully capture how it is to be not neurotypical into exact words from my own experience, hopefully the characteristics displayed will add more substance to the story while giving representation to those who experience the same unorganized headspace and spiritic thoughts the reader does. Any constructive criticism to how I portray this in writing is very welcome :) ENJOY

Previous Part

The grass beneath your feet was more stiff than before. The cold made it so: it’s moisture semi-frozen because of the lowered temperature. Crunching with each step, it collapsed under the weight of you. Routinely making your way up the slope of your eating spot, the hard ground of the incline leads up to its highest point: the top of the hill. The green seemed to make hissing sounds in objection to your intrusion, in a display of distaste to your arrival. 

The protesting sounds stopped when you did. Reusing the same motion as the day before, you patted the ground with your hand, checking for any unwanted moisture. Once again, there wasn’t any to be found. You placed your bag down, flat side parallel to how your back is soon to be. Crouching first, you ease into sitting on the cold grass, relaxing your back and leaning against the bag in order to provide at least some level of comfort that the iced hill definitely did not provide.

The weather hadn’t changed much from the previous day. The cold stayed put like a stubborn mule unwilling, unable to concede. You didn’t expect it to. Autumn had just begun. Day after day after day the chill would remain. From now until time took its course, it would stay, growing in strength with each passing week or so.

And this time, you planned. The jacket you wore now was thicker than yesterday’s. Layers of padding kept you from much of the chill’s bitterness. Though some parts endured the cold in its fullest, going unguarded against it. Your hands were one of those. Some of their feeling was lost to you, mostly numb and stiff from going unprotected against the weather. Whatever sensation they had left was not a pleasant one. It made you want to stuff your hands as deep into your pockets as possible, wanting to bring back the normality of warmth.

But you couldn’t do that. They were currently preoccupied with holding a familiar styrofoam container. The same from the day before.

Setting it into your lap, you allowed your arms to rise up and cross over your chest, your hands wedging themselves into the space in between the inside of your forearms and your sides. The temperature difference caused a shiver to erupt from your spine, the heated area not used to the new sensation. You hugged yourself tighter, willing the sharpness of your fingers to stop affecting you so.

After a short minute, you start to feel some of the life flow back into the extremities. Unfolding yourself, you reach for the container sitting in your lap. Hand clasping the lid and opening the tray, the smell of the warm food easily flowed through the air and to your nose. The stench of each article mixed together, creating the perfect storm of pleasantry. At least in your not-so-picky opinion. You would take what you could get. Without much hesitation or thought, you dug in, lifting whatever you chose into your mouth, the warmth of your lunch doing its part in warming you on this gray, autumn day.

Savoring the flavor, you shifted your gaze to the field in front of you. Observing from afar as you chewed, it was easily determined that the game going on before you was similar to what had been played before. Figures positioned in a recognizable pattern, the signature look was a giveaway. Football, once again. Focusing a little more, the imprecise features of the players vaguely matched those of yesterday. Only a few were mismatched. Other than that, every player was recurring.

Speaking of.

Instinctively, your eyes hopped from one body for another, quickly scanning each player for a particular set of looks. The forms went through a mental check off list, each failing in their own distinct way. That was until your eyes fell upon one in particular.

The familiar head of orange hair soon came into view: it wasn���t hard to find among the others. He wore a similar outfit as he did the day before, though with the addition of a hoodie of some kind. Looks like he had the same idea you did.

There he is.

Darting back and forth on the field he played, constantly giving chase to whomever was in possession of the ball. His eyes, from what you could see, were open and focused, always keeping track of where the object was, as well as keeping a mental note of where his teammates and opponents were at any given moment. His posture constantly switched from offense to defense, guarding whichever opposing member he was meant to be covering. 

You shouldn't be surprised, really. It fits. ‘Well known school football player playing football in school.’ Duh. Yet, it catches you anyway. Your mouth forms a tight line.

You were almost afraid of this. Though ‘afraid’ is probably not the word you would use to describe how you feel. More like- ‘hesitant’.

The mental image of encountering Kunigami again after yesterday’s incident made you cringe. You noticed that now you knew of his presence, the atmosphere changed in some nuanced, indistinguishable way due to your first encounter with him. It’s almost like the air itself shifted. You felt a brush of chilly air against your skin. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body in reaction. 

You thought about not coming back to this hillside for the sake of not wanting to be or feel awkward. It did take too much reasoning with yourself to decide not to. You’re not a coward. Most times. Besides, Kunigami never gave you a reason to avoid him. Not once. Who would you be to do so to him after he had been so… nice? Normal?

You were too stubborn to move spots, but too awkward to play things off as normal. Lord, can you get a break?

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet him again, it's just that… you would rather not. The chance alone put you sort-of on edge, changing the kind of headspace you were in. The feeling of the frigid air that was kept at bay with your jumbled thoughts was released, now once again a grating sensation of slight annoyance.

‘Weary’ should just be your middle name at this point.

You took a bite of your food, intentionally keeping your eyes mostly trained on the ground. However, you felt brave enough to peak up in certain instances, looking on to the commotion of the field when a sound would catch your attention. Honestly, it was intriguing, the way they all played together. You could tell there was a system there, somewhere. A structure to what Kunigami and his allies were shouting to each other at what looked to be at random. A method to the madness if you will. Not one you immediately recognized of course. Yet it was apparent by the way the players moved, where they moved, how they moved, and even how fast they moved, that there was some sort of plan.

You remained in your thoughts as you chewed. The blanket of hushed awareness you had hoped would come had not arrived. This usually happened. But the regularity of the moment didn’t make the experience any more enjoyable.

You wanted to find tranquility in your mind but struggled to truly find it. True tranquility, not what you told yourself was peace. To distract yourself, you took another bite of the plain-tasting food, focusing on the taste of whatever you had in your mouth. It worked for a second. You almost got it. Only a moment later to be taken right away with an intrusive thought. As another diversion, you attempted to watch in on the game before you, straining your ears to listen to the talking of the other students to find a score. That too, failed in its goal. Try and try as you might, you wouldn't settle. Worries from the everyday to the long term reverberated, keeping each one afloat with the strength of each other. Your thoughts kept buzzing around your head, like an annoying fly just waiting to be smacked from the sky. If only you had a fly swatter. Yet, sadly, you are, and have been, unarmed for a while now. 

Oh well. You sigh. I’ll cope.

And that you did. If you had to guess, you’d probably say you’re actually pretty decent at it all this point. 

You checked your phone a few times for the clock, even choosing to scroll mindlessly for a few minutes before slipping the device right back into your pocket from whence it came. You made an effort to not be on your phone during this time, you could be on twitter all you want later. No, when you were outside for this break, you wanted exactly that: a break. So you choose to take it, simple as that.

There wasn't much to think about as time ticked away. Not much to say as the game played on, and on. You ate in silence, alone. The seconds blurred to minutes as you finished your food, setting the tray aside when you thought you were satisfied. It only felt like a few moments outside on the prickly graying grass as the clock crept closer and closer. However, it dragged on noticeably longer this time. You could safely assume Kunigami was the reason. You would be a liar if you told someone you didn’t pay attention to him, specifically while on the field. You could recognize his voice by now without even looking at him by how he shouted to his teammates. You also noticed how he was on the field- like he was center stage. Like the game revolved around him as he controlled the ball for almost half of it. It was weird, how your eyes caught him on occasion while disregarding the other players. It was easy to chalk the phenomena up to circumstance. He was the only motherfucker you knew here, much less talk to. Also, he had the ball. Of course you would focus on him.

Before you knew it, the bell rang. Knowing the routine, you gathered your things, picking up your backpack first to sling onto your back, then your tray, holding it with a relaxed hand. You looked back at the field, just to see the game quickly stop, teams dissolving as the students made their way back into the school.

You felt odd leaving so soon. Out of place even, to move on. A weird feeling settled in your chest, like someone dropped a weight there and had forgotten it. You pondered the feeling for a moment, before shrugging it off to begin walking, knowing there’s not much to be done or explained. You know by now that questioning your feelings never leads to a straight answer, as weird as that is to think about.

Your descent down the hill was as per usual. Your steps were careful as they made their way down, watching for any slippery spots in the greenery. Your head was empty as you went, head cast downward, not needing to really look where you were going as your own muscle memory dragged you along. You subconsciously ran through a checklist of what you needed to do before going to class. The space around you grew louder as you approached the building, now in greater proximity to the students who were outside.

“Hey! Y/N!”

A shout from your side brings you back to the world around you, urging your head to face whatever, or whoever had hollered your name. Not expecting to be called, you’d imagine you were probably wearing a comically caught off-guard face, eyes blown out in shock. They searched the blacktop of widely strung-out, moving people, scanning for anyone who had already had their attention on you. 

That voice sounded familiar.

Seeing a commotion, you were automatically drawn to that, almost forgetting what you were doing. Though it all comes full circle when you recognize a face amongst the crowd.

About twenty feet away from you, Kunigami stood closely accompanied by what you would assume was one of his football buddies. From what you could see, his hand was raised high in an effort to wave at you, a clear effort to grab your attention. On his face, he wore a subtle deadpanning scowl. It was obvious he was trying to conceal it with a more pacified expression, but it really wasn’t working. It made you confused for a millisecond as to what he could be so blatantly displeased at before you noticed the grip the other student had on his arm. Kunigami strained slightly against the hold his friend had on him as the stranger visibly smiled and boyishly laughed aloud at something unknown to you. It wasn’t until Kunigami saw you were looking at him before he changed his look to something more pleasant, trying to ease the growing tension he was probably aware he was showing. His hand relaxed as well- lowering from above his head.

You didn’t have any time to think to wave back yourself before the jock clinging to the red-head started pulling hard on his arm. Kunigami seemingly decides to compromise, giving in to the excitement of the other. Turning and stumbling over his feet, Kunigami stepped into a walk with the other players. Before you knew it, the player in question started gaining some distance away from your form, shaking his arm out of the grip of the one who had his hold on him. He walked to another door that led inside the school with some of the other football players, turning to give one last look to you before permanently stepping in line with the other students.

You are left where you were standing: a halted figure amongst the ever moving crowd. Seemingly miraculously, the weight held in your gut disappeared, yet not an ounce of your bewilderment chose to leave in any way, shape, or form. It seemed to congeal in your mind, even as you took the memorized path back to your locker, stepping in time to be one with the crowd. It subsided over time, but never truly went away. Rather, it hid, ready and willing to rear its ugly head whenever the next opportunity arrived. You wanted to think it would never get the chance.

The air was stuffy.

It would be, with this many students packed into one gymnasium. The already poor circulation mixed with the massive amounts of teenagers’ and young adults’ body odor proved to be an unpleasant combination, because of course it was. And the space, obviously, certainly did not help, it being far too small to comfortably hold as many bodies as the school staff wanted it to hold.

It was also loud. Very loud. The vast majority of the voices in the gym did not give a single shit about staying moderately tame, much less even a little quiet. Hundreds of students lining the stands all around you, the open ceiling reverberated with the clamor, serving as the most annoying white noise in existence. The sounds of laughter, scolding, yelling, offense, and gossip, along with other noises you couldn’t even decipher, all morphed into one amalgamation of a racket that roared on, and on, wholly chaotic, and definitely grating. You swore you couldn’t even hear yourself think in this mess of an assembly.

Thankfully, you got a little lucky. You ended up sitting in an obscure corner of the auditorium: a place not as crowded as the rest of the large room. On the second set of stands from the ground, you hunched over, keen on making yourself somewhat small amongst the rowdy bunches of trade school students behind you.

As you scanned the auditorium, you were able to distinguish a couple things. One, this was an athletic event of some kind. It was clear by the congregation of generally fit and popular people on the gym floor, right in the center of attention for everyone to see. They separated in groups, supposedly by the sport they played. You wouldn’t be able to tell which were which if it weren’t for the rudimentary signs that the taller individuals waved above their heads. Two, it was going to be boring. That was apparent from the moment several older men in suits showed up. You slumped further down in your set at the realization, robotically taking out your phone to see how else you could fiddle with it today.

It's not that you legitimately disliked sports or those who played them. You would never judge anyone for putting their effort into something they cared about. And while you definitely did not fit in with the crowd, and a good portion of the athletes were not raised right and you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, they’re students all the same. Egotistical, maybe. With a dash of narcissism, duh. But they were people all the same.

It’s these recognition assemblies you really didn’t care for. They’re the most performative things in the world, and they serve no purpose other than to boost some egos and make content for the local newspaper. They were dumb, through and through. And it seemed the majority of the audience watching knew that, as the staff visibly struggled to calm the erratic students.

It didn’t take long for the assembly to finally start. Somehow, the organizers were able to get all the athletes together and calm, just enough for the guest speakers to introduce themselves, and begin their speeches of unending boredom. They spoke of the various teams’ accomplishments throughout the year, expressing how proud they were in their performance, effectively getting the sentimental portion out of the way. As you could assume, they went onto specifying titles, going over each groups’ success in detail.

It would be an accurate statement to say that you were uninterested. From where you sat, you could barely see the stage, your vision obscured by the surrounding students. Not to mention your natural gravitation to the exit, which definitely did not help, given the distance from the podium where the speakers planned on hanging out for the next forty minutes or so. You found yourself zoning out, almost in record time too. Not that you cared to listen. The quicker this goes, the faster you’re out of this sweaty auditorium. 

You feel a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey… Y/N?”

Nearly jumping out of your own skin, you whip your head around, hair thrashing with the shear force of the movement. You look toward the one who had called your name.

Though you truly didn’t know what to expect, you definitely did not expect a mop of tangerine-colored hair, along with a matching set of eyes that seemed awfully familiar.

With a hand raised, Kunigami stood from the edge of the bleachers from where you sat. Blinking a few times, his eyes darted to the podium from where the guest continued to speak, only to look back at you, opening his mouth to say simply and plainly…

“Hey uh, could I sit here?” He pointed to the empty spot beside you, the last available space from the edge, and closest to him.

You didn’t give much thought into your answer, having no real reason to decline his request. “Uh yea! Sure.”

Kunigami's lip curled up in a half-smile. It was genuine from what you could tell. 

Breathing out a thank you, he took a large step off of the floor, hoisting himself into the open seat with less clumsiness than you could ever manage. Scooting over, you made plenty of room for him to adjust and get comfortable, squeezing into yourself even more than before to make that happen.

Looking again at the event, Kunigami asked another, but slightly out of place question, “We’ve uh- started right?”

You rubbed your hands together, processing what he said before answering him clearly, “Yea, I think about like, five minutes ago?”

Kunigami nodded his head in approval, pulling out his phone to quickly check the time, only to put the device right back in the pocket from which it came. “Ah okay.” You could’ve sworn the ginger let out a puff of air, his shoulders deflating at the action. As odd as it was, you dropped it, but made note. 

The player was… imposing. He took up space, metaphorically and in actuality. Not through any fault of his of course. It was your mind that did this to you with its tendency to turn nothing into something.  Try as you might, its pattern of overthinking was persistent as the source of your downfall. As dramatic as that sounds. You force your attention away from your guest and to the speaker. He wasn’t entertaining by any means, certainly not. The old geizer drawled on and on about… something? You weren’t really paying attention, for Kunigami’s mere presence distracted you immensely.

The sound of countless clapping hands reeled you back to the present. Your fellow peers had erupted into a boystrosious applause, followed by a few hoots and hollers from the rowtier ones in the back. Zeroing back in on the podium, you knew it was brought on by the speaker, who had joined the audience in the clapping and was now turned to a group of male students. 

While you didn’t have much reason to care, something caught your eye anyway. You recognized the faces of the students. Just vaguely. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You wracked your brain for the answer as you recalled what you had subconsciously remembered by the man’s speech spoken just moments ago. I saw them from the field that day, didn’t I?

And with that, you put it together: it was the soccer team. Yet, that discovery had only brought up another question.

If the soccer team was there, then why is the star player sitting next to you?

You turn your head to look at him, confusion plastered all over. He was looking at the stage as well, with an expression you couldn’t read. If you had to take a guess, it was a rather calmer one, yet his brow was a little stressed. It threw you off. Deciding to be a little bold, you speak. 

“Um,” You begin. “Isn’t that the football team?”

Kunigami starts, turning his head to look at you. A moment passes before he responds. “Yeah that’s them.”

You continue, gesturing with your own double take at the group. They were receiving some sort of plaque, presented by the same old man as before, a showy smile displayed for all to see. “Shouldn’t you,” You pause to find the resolve to state the obvious. “Be with them?”

Kunigami’s eyes widened a fraction. They glance at the team, then back at you. Then to the team, then back at you. “Uh.” He says eloquently. “Yes?”

The carrot-top’s answer only confuses you more. “You’re on the team?” You ask it as a question, like you were searching for clarity in something that's already crystal. When he only stares back, you ask another. “Aren’t you… the guy?”

Kunigami blinked at that, expression morphing from what looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, to flat out perplexed. “The guy?” He parrots back, emphasizing the ‘the’ just as you said it. It’s not mocking in the slightest. It's very honest, almost innocently so.

Your mind scrambles for a better way to explain, not that you had one. “I mean…” You try, “Like,” Your hands rise from your lap, coming to rescue you from your stumbling. They move strangely, trying to form what you mean without the use of words. Ultimately, they fail. “I mean, the guy.”

Kunigami only looks. Thinking, still confused. His own hands come together, clasping one another as he leans over, hunching his back and supporting himself by resting his forearms on his legs. He speaks with raised brows. “You’re gonna have to help me here.”

You resist the urge to groan aloud. What really comes out is an agitated huff. You rack your brain for a synonym, coming up with one a second later. “The star?” You ask, kind of happy you found a substitute for your thoughts. “You’re the star of the team.”

At that, Kunigami’s eyes grow bigger. This time with a new emotion. It takes him darting his eyes away from you to decipher it. Flattery. The same he had shown before when he had paid for your lunch.

Is he embarrassed? Isn’t it the truth?

The one in question shakes his head. “No.” It’s soft how he says it, not very firm, yet still in a disagreeing tone. “I am not the star of the team.”

“So, what are you?” You go on to elaborate. “Like what it is called.”

What could barely be considered a smile makes its way on Kunigami’s face slowly, yet surely. His eyes show some amusement, though not the kind that makes someone feel as if they were being made fun of. Rather, he was enjoying himself. Sincerely. He looks back at you, blankly, with that hint of delight.

“I’m a forward.” He says plainly, though the face betrays his tone as he mentions the source of his joy. “That’s the position I play.”

You think for a moment. The label he named doesn’t sound familiar. “I mean… you’re called something else.” You pause to rearticulate your thoughts again, wringing your hands in your lap absentmindedly. “There’s another word for it.”

It doesn’t even take a full second before he replies. “Striker?”

“Yeah.” You say, recalling the term from how many times you’ve heard it over the intercom. 

“Then yeah, I guess.” He says, shrugging. “Though it's not a term actually used in the game.”

You hum, though more to yourself than anyone else. Oh okay. The new piece of knowledge doesn’t slip from you so easily. As trivial as it is, you thought it was an interesting fact. So you plan to remember it. Besides, it might become relevant later.

The crowd rang out in applause once more, for seemingly no reason at all. It barely registered; you had no clue what they were on about. Instead, your focus grows, fixating itself on Kunigami, as so does your confusion. Your question has yet to be answered. You ask again, the sentence slipping from your lips before you had a chance to reconsider. “So why aren’t you up there?”

Kunigami shifts, just a little, just to get more comfortable. He just blinks some more, showing absolutely no sign of any negative emotion at your question. He looks to the team, then back to you, again. Yet, because he doesn’t respond right away, and because of his movement, you automatically think of it as discomfort. You’re backtracking before you know it. Your mind begins to spiral, thinking, oh god I fucked up even though, clearly, you didn’t. You avert your eyes, and apologize. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. I-”

“I just don’t want to be up there.”

You stop, and look at him again. He’s calm, not rattled in the slightest by anything you’ve said in the past fifteen seconds. He wrings his hands a bit, and looks at his fingernails for a second, but otherwise, he just sits. 

He’s no fool. Kunigami can see how you were beginning to work yourself up, even if he can only view it from an outside perspective. He takes it in stride, and with a small smile and firm shake of his head, he addresses it. Simply.

“No need to apologize. It's a valid question.”

Now, it's your turn to blink. The sound of his voice sticks with you, his point driving itself home in the opening your insecurity created.  “Oh.” You say. You didn’t expect that response. You expected something more akin to being brushed off, or even ignored. Instead, he just, answered. Huh. “Okay.”

He chooses to continue. He brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “I’m not a fan of this kinda stuff.” The clapping starts up once more. You look to the stage, wondering, what is it this time, only to see the football team begin to file off its steps. One student grasped the award tightly in his hand as he descended. He looked to be laughing with his friends, those of which you remember from before: when they had pulled Kunigami away from waving to you earlier in the week.

The redhead in question speaks again. You assume he’s aware he has your attention, even if you're not looking at him. “I don’t really see a purpose for it. It’s all for show anyway.”

You turn back to him. He’s already looking at you. For some reason, you notice something you hadn’t before. His eyes, though they were mostly an orange color, very similar to his hair, also had some brown in them. Just around the outer rim, where the shade of chocolate met the white of his pupil. You’re not sure why you can see it.

Instead of questioning it, you decide to reply to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He says. His eyes don’t leave yours. “It’s a load of crap.”

You’re still curious. You decide to pry some more, just a little bit. “Do you not like crowds?”

“Crowds?” He repeats, eyes widening a bit at your surprise question. He answers after he takes a second to think. “Uh, not really? I mean, I tolerate them. I guess I like them as much as anyone else.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner after he finishes speaking.  “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” You dismissed, shaking your head. “I was just wondering.”

Kunigami hums, content to move on. He turns his head away and back toward the stage. By now, a new group of students had ascended it, perhaps for an award of their own.

A flicker of his own curiosity makes Kunigami want to ask the same back. So, he does. “Do you not like crowds?”

You’re not as caught off-guard this time. His statement gives you the confidence to laugh shortly. “Ha. No.” You tug your hands closer into your body, crossing your arms over your chest so you're hugging your torso. “I don’t.” 

Observing the movement, the striker can’t tell if you’ve done it consciously or not, since you don’t acknowledge it. A part of his brain connects your body language to what you’re saying. It's a part not connected to his inner monologue, so he doesn’t realize it, but he recognizes it nonetheless. Just internally. While it finds permanence, he continues as if he never made the observation. Which he sort of didn’t. Not truely.

Kunigami can’t help the twitch of his lip that compels its edge to go up. Otherwise, he responds, simply, plainly. With a hint of something neither he nor you realize is there. “Really?”

You’re oblivious to it. “Yeah.”

It’s silent after that. There’s no other reason to speak. The two of you continue to half-heartedly watch the assembly, now with a new understanding revealed: that you both don’t want to be here.

The solitude gives you a moment to process your conversation with the redhead. You didn’t expect it to go so, normal. Maybe you were the weird one here, but in all honesty, Kunigami was a jock. You’re not friends with jocks, at least not in any meaningful capacity. You’re not the kind of person who resonates with those kinds of people, at least the ones you knew of. It was foreign to you: how someone like him could act so, different in comparison to his peers. How he could just be a regular person.

You outwardly make a face. You want to slap yourself. “How could he just be a regular person?” What the hell are you talking about? Of course he’s a regular person. He’s a person, on the football team or not. It doesn’t matter if he’s quiet or a party animal. He didn’t appear to be away. His agreeable nature from your first meeting seemed to stem more from politeness than as a facet of his personality. Instead, he seemed on the calmer side, and is generally more internal.

But even if he wasn’t, it was none of your business. You have no idea why he keeps the company he does, nor why he’s even on the football team. You don’t know him, and that’s fine. As long as he’s not an asshole, that should be enough of a reason to be friendly back, just as he’s done to you.

A realization comes over you suddenly, and without warning. Unbeknownst to you, it's always been there. From the moment you met the player during that frigid recess. It was just waiting for the moment, the perfect moment where you would finally pull back the curtain to reveal its presence. It makes you stop your train of thought in its tracks. Not that it was going anywhere anyway.

Why is Kunigami so friendly to you, for no reason at all?

There’s a change of pace of commotion on the stage. A woman takes up a microphone. Her voice projects through the speakers built into the gymnasium. A dismissal is taking place quicker than you thought it would.

Quickly, she gives instructions on how to exit, delegating that those on the lower levels of the bleachers are to leave first, then those on the higher levels. This is to reduce the amount of chaos that will surely ensue after she gives the order, seeing as the gym was congested with as many people as the fucking titanic.

Even as she speaks, you know where this is going. As annoying as some of the staff can be, in instances like these, you feel bad for them. You watch it happen in slow-mo: she gives the “ok” and immediately, hundreds of students jump from their seats. Many around you rise too and begin to shuffle around. You stay put. So does Kunigami. The room rattles with the vibrations of countless shoes on the plastic of the bleachers. It’s a rumbling irritation, yet the sound is the least of your worries.

Try as she might, she cannot stop the hurricane of students who disregard their warnings and jump from their seats, their heads set on getting out of the packed auditorium. Her shouts of command fall on deaf ears as people descend, and walk casually past her. It's a funny sight: her beginning to fume as she continues to not be taken seriously as hundreds of students pass her by, and exit the gym. Surely by the next assembly you all will get another lecture on this.

You have two options, as you do every time you’re part of a massive crowd such as this, and everyone in it is trying to go to one place all at once. Either stay here, seated, watch the masses of people dissipate and risk being late for class, or you brave the congestion and suck it up to dive headfirst into the sea of sweaty, loud people. Neither option was appealing. It was usually a coin toss on which you picked. Sometimes it depends on your mood. Though you were not in a particularly bad one, you didn’t exactly want it to dampen over something as pointless as this.

While in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that the striker beside you had begun to stand up. It was the ‘pop’ of his knee that snapped you from your reverie. He looked at you with a curious expression as he straightened himself, wondering to himself why you hadn’t made the move to leave as well. “Are you… staying here?”

It takes you a second to find a response casual enough to appear neurotypical. “Haha, nah. I'm just a bit slow.” You brush him off as you make to gather your things and stand, giving into the peer pressure the movement of clamoring bodies put onto you the moment they start to move toward the exit.

Though even as you begin to stand yourself, you couldn’t help but notice that Kunigami had not yet left. Instead he just stood there by your side, looking out into the sea of people at nobody in particular. It doesn’t take much for you to ask him why with a hint of your own assumption. “Are you waiting on me?”

“Yes.” He says, like it's obvious. He turns his head to see you properly and quirks a brow. “Why? You don’t mind, do you?”

You rush to straighten up at his confirmation. “A-ah no.” You’re frazzled. Just a little. “I-I mean, no. I don’t mind.” You slide your backpack onto your back, and adjust the straps. You find yourself doing the same: absentmindedly looking out into the crowd of peers from the slightly-elevated position you had on the bleachers, which has been steadily decreasing ever since the initial rush. “It’s just that,” you wonder, “I figured you’d already have gone off to class.”

Kunigami shaked his head at that. His semi-spiky head of hair jerks with it. “Nah, I’m in no rush.” He digs his hand into his pocket and fishes for his phone. Once again, he checks the time and puts the device right but where he found it. “Besides,” he says, blinking stoically. “You said you didn’t like crowds.”

Oh. “Oh.” 

You’re not so caught up in your thoughts this time to have him wait for a response. “Uh- yeah I, I guess you’re right.” What? For real? You’re certainly surprised that the football player beside you had remembered what you said, even if it was only from a matter of minutes ago. You’re even more surprised he had thought about it enough to take some sort of action: to consciously let it dictate his choice of staying behind with you, even if it influenced his decision only a little bit. It was strange to say the least. He was strange.

You see Kunigami turning to the side toward the opening in the bleachers from which he had stepped up from. He craned his head to look back at you. “Here.” He said, motioning with his head to the exit you would guess he already designated. “Just follow me, and I’ll take the lead.”

You nod, and with an ‘okay’ from you, Kunigami fully turns around to the edge of the bleachers, and you mentally prepare yourself to go through whatever task this was about to become.

Your red-headed acquaintance swiftly takes a big step down from the height in a matter of seconds. He never stumbles as he does it, almost gracefully letting gravity carry his weight, falling from the elevated platform. He takes another step forward, kind of forming a rhythm. He turns around right after, watching for you to follow with that same thoughtful expression.

And you do, albeit less organized as he did it. You jump from the bleachers in a similar fashion, yet instead of moving in a stride, your shoes ‘thunk’ against the wooden floor. Kunigami sees you land, and an apology is already falling from his lips. “Sorry- we probably should’ve gone down the stairs.”

You chuckle at his effort. “No it's alright.” You say, waving him off with a vague hand motion. “No worries.”

Kunigami breathes out. “Ha, good.” And with that he turns once more. “Let's go. I think the bell is about to ring.”

You agree, and step in line behind him as he makes his way towards the set of double doors that separated you all from the rest of the school. At first the journey was smooth, but as the two of you got closer to the narrow passage, the area became more and more congested with students who were, conveniently, also trying to make their way towards the same set of doors. You creep closer to Kunigami as the bodies from all around close in. Though none made any solid contact, occasionally one or two would brush against your arm or leg. Accidental, probably, but it didn’t make you happy nonetheless. But don’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t ‘scared’ uncomfortable, just ‘annoyed’ uncomfortable.

As your duo passed through the worst of it, right on the threshold of the metal doors, Kunigami looked back at you over his shoulder. He said nothing, though his apricot eyes asked a silent question with the look he gave, eyebrows raised upward in a way that made them wider, more open: ‘you good?’

The sentiment didn’t pass you by. You give a tight-lipped smile at his once again confusing concern. ‘Yeah’

He seems satisfied with that, choosing to turn back around so he can look where he is going. The edge of his lip curls as he does. Just a little bit.

By facing forward, he unintentionally left your eyes to naturally fall upon whatever took the place of his own, which just so happened to be his back. From where you were, your gaze rested on the expanse of the back of his shoulder, and further up to the nape of his neck. You had never paid much attention to this part of him before. You didn’t have a reason to. Yet now, due to circumstance, you can’t help but look a little closer.

He was built. You already knew that part- it wasn’t hard to tell. But now, you were closer than normal. Meaning, you could see more than normal. You could see where the muscle that wrapped around the back of his shoulder blade- where it rounded off the edge of it to a degree you hadn’t seen so close on anyone before. You could see where his shirt strained because of it. Though not much, his clothes fit him well, the fabric would once and a while become taunt while he moved his arms in ways that went against its limits. You could see where that same muscle crept up with back and to the tops of his shoulders, once again rounding and defining the hump. You could see the skin of his nape, tanned probably due to the countless hours of football training done outside. It was smooth and undisturbed by any scars or blemishes. You could see where the tissue connected with the tendon of his neck, and where that then traveled up to his… undercut? You hadn’t yet noticed that either. WOW. He looks good with that. It really complements his-

You force yourself to stop your own untamed thought midway. You blink rapidly. Your eyes widened at the sentence you were just about to let be completed. What the FUCK?

You’re appalled at yourself. And a little ashamed. What was that shit?? Get a damn GRIP. You don’t even know this guy. You blink some more, and shake your head the smallest bit. It wouldn’t even matter if you did!! I mean SURE he’s not bad looking, and his back his build like a brick shithouse, and maybe the buzz underneath only adds to the icing on the cak-

“You alright?”

The voice of the motherfucker in question makes you want to dig a hole right where you stood and perish. You’d fear he had somehow heard you if he wasn’t looking at you like you hadn’t said anything at all.

“You look a little dazed. I didn’t know you had such a hard time with large numbers of people.” He says it easily in his tenor, and without a hint of judgment. You caught onto his nicety, mentally grasping it as a lifeline to pull yourself from whatever spiral you were about to go down.

You let out a laugh that has to seem out of place. “Haha- Nono I’m okay. It didn’t bother me that much, I was err- uh thinking about something else.” The last part comes out somewhat stiff and quiet, and you choose to look away from the redhead to find something else to occupy your frontal lobe.

You soon discover that the two of you have covered a lot more ground than you originally thought. You were now in the commons, a little ways away from the main exit of the auditorium, around the main seating area. Across the way was the closed-up concession stand the two of you visited not so long ago. Most of your peers in the auditorium had already moved in the hallway and through the school, save for a few stragglers.

Kunigami hums, then shrugs. “If you say so.” For the third time that day, he pulls out his phone to check something. Probably the time. Again. He seems like the kinda guy who’d want to be punctual. Internally you’re thankful he had dropped his concern as quickly as he did. You did NOT wanna talk about it.

He looks up from the device to offer a easy-going grin to you, and slips it back into his pocket. “Well I’d better get going.” He starts, “Don’t wanna be late for class.”

You nod back and reply eloquently. “Uh yeah. Definitely.” 

At that, Kunigami nods to himself, and starts to turn on his heel, but not before bringing a hand up to give you a short wave. The same kind he had tried greeting you with early that week. His eyes shine with a serenity you can see clearly as he gives his departing words, again, a constant from your first meeting. “See ya later then, Y/N.”

And with that, and before you can say much at all aside from your own short little wave, he fully turns around to take long strides down the same hallway he had left from before, soon after pivoting down another hallway out of sight. One, if you were paying closer attention, you would recognize as the same secondary hallway as before, once again.

You watched him as he did, right from where you stood in the commons of the school. You remained like that for a few seconds before forcing your own legs to guide you down the opposite way, in the direction of your locker.

As you walk you’re preoccupied. Your fellow students are oblivious to your mental space as you keep to the right-hand side of the hallway, your head down as you mulled. Not that you’d ever want them to know. Many thoughts rattled around in your head as you approached your destination. Thoughts your second meeting, thoughts of your first, thoughts of him and his stupid back and his stupid concern, thoughts of how absurd this is all becoming-

Thoughts of how your patience was beginning to run out.

Taglist: @yuujiisann​  Its been so long so I didn’t know if you still wanted tagged but HERE YOU GO ANYWAY LOL

[sillspore]

Same anon from the long post one.

I like the idea but some of seen too much (Don't think I hate you please 😭, a lot Wc fans can't handle criticism sometimes and go right to you thinking if someone criticizes them/or their art they must hate the person)

Maybe because just I'm bramblestar and squilf's fan, I could be bias but I wish Brambleshade is more than just a dick? I understand you hate him and that is fine but making his whole character as nothing but a character with all flaws (that what I got from reading your post, not trying to assume anything, don't change your AU just because I or anyone said so, it's your work do what you want) seem lame to me.

He is seem more to have nothing but flaws, I don't see him doing a lot of those. Him trying to exiling Squirrelflight seems something he won't do at all and have.Again no hate toward you, I think your AU could be nice to some people but not for me. Not because of you, it just seem every AU with Brambleclaw, he is same character over again.

He is either a evil, good for nothing cat who is only there to have power of three plot to happen or like I said before a man wife.

again no hate to you but the AU isn't for me but I can definitely see other people liking, maybe I would like more if you make a fanfic about it, who knows. Again I'm not saying cant have a bad/ a character you don't like befit anyone's view because it's your fanfic, all that. It's up to you.

It just seem repeat from every other AU about or around Bramnleclaw. I hope to see ur AU grow ever through I don't like some of plots in it ❤️ /ih

yeah, i understand lol! since i haven’t written anything, it’s just an outline, the characters may seem very shallow or one dimensional :) i do want to give brambleshade good qualities — in the beginning he IS good. firestar made him deputy, after all, so he must have seen leader qualities within brambleclaw. however, the intent behind this au is to add small things i like, and make canon work. a lot of plot threads and character choices in warriors are… weird, to say the least. the goal with brambleshade is to make his canon character work. in the new prophecy, he’s kind of annoying, but he’s a good guy. he’s noble, and strong, and caring. but he DOES act petty and rude to squilf after the reveal of the three’s heritage (which personally, i feel he’s within his rights to do, for the lies she led him on with), he DOES act like the three aren’t his kids after (which is so dumb to me), and he DOES use his power as a leader to set up situations to make squirrelflight look disrespectful or dumb. he puts her in dangerous situations, forces her to choose her morals over his orders (thinking of squirrelflight’s hope here), and punishes her for it.

listen, in my head, my brambleclaw is a good guy. he’s a good cat-husband, a good dad, and a good if somewhat bland leader. in my head, he’s goldenflower’s son and he acts like it. but if i put HIM in THIS au, sooo many plots simply wouldn’t happen. to match the flow of canon, i’d have to create new plots and villains and honestly? i don’t want to haha. i’m still in school, i don’t have a whole lot of time to dedicate to this. so, i’m sticking with mostly canon overarching plots and doing what i need to make it work. and in canon, bramblestar sucks. they make him cruel and vindictive and a horrible mate to squirrelflight, sometimes he outright constructs narratives to come up with reasons to be mad at her. it’s crazy. personally, i see it as them ruining him to create a new antagonist, but they refuse to make him a villain, so no one recognizes or checks his behavior. it’s so infuriating, i wish the authors would pick a characterization. stick with the intended brambleclaw and actions that make sense for him, or stick to him going “evil” and acting insane (aka how he acts in squirrelflight’s hope).

so, to make canon work, bramble is good, then “bad” (acting within reason, but the protags are his not-kids who he’s being rude to, so he’s perceived badly), then bad. he’s not meant to be evil, he isn’t ashfur or anything. but the story is meant to show that he is heartbroken, and emotionally vulnerable, and embraces a vindictive part of himself he’s never let air (which IS canon, his thought process on if he should kill firestar in sunset or not is genuinely disturbing lmao). then he gets his mate back. and THEN he is killed, possessed, mentally violated. this RUINS him. he is not mentally stable, and this allows for squirrelstar to happen. i can very well just kill him at the end of the broken code instead, it achieves the exact same result. if that’s what you guys prefer, that works for me :) the intent of bramblestar trying to exile squirrelflight for “betraying” him is to show how he’s degraded, kind of like bluestar in arc 1, and give way for the audience to see the new code rule (stripping a leader of their power) . that’s kind of what i meant by “you won’t like this if you like brambleclaw” lol. i dislike his canon character, but in my head hes just a little guy. he’s got great potential and i love him. but that has no place in this au, because conflict is NEEDED.

i hope this doesn’t come across as defensive !!! just trying to explain why i made the decisions i did :) i really appreciate your thoughts and you sending them to me! the entire point of me sharing this blog is to receive suggestions and criticisms.

my intent isn’t to make brambleclaw evil, just an antagonist. i like to imagine if i have him die before squilf gets her lives, like in the final battle of tbc (idk what he’d die to yet though, haven’t reread those books yet), he’d regain mental clarity in starclan and give her a life, for love. <3

[arandomaquarius]

“Concussive Sound” Pt. 1

TW: Implied Car Accident, Injury, Vomit (brief but it’s there), Panic Attack, Concussions, Swearing/Cursing, Not Proofread

Summary: Piper gets a concussion. That’s it. That’s the summary :/

Characters: Captain Cold, Heatwave, Trickster I, Mirror Master I, Captain Boomerang I, Pied Piper

A/N: this does not follow any canon. Some characters may be ooc, please be nice this is my first time writing these characters. Constructive criticism is welcome. P.s. I am aware this is exaggerated hearing loss from a concussion. I just wanted to write Piper with a concussion based loosely on my experience but I’ve been meaning to write his reaction to suddenly losing his hearing for an amount of time. I decided to kill two birds with one stone :/

~Text under the cut~

“Why can’t we travel by mirrors again?” Sam complains for about the fifth time today. Piper rolls his eyes from where he’s sat in the back.

“Because, Sam, it’s not that far, and traveling by mirror makes the rest of us sick. Now shut up,” Len snaps from the passenger seat. “Take a left here and continue ‘til ya get to a four-way intersection,” he adds, directing Mick where to go.

Beside Piper sits JJ, who’s currently turned around in his seat to annoy Digger with puppets. Digger and Sam are purposely put in the very back, where they can’t bother Len (mostly).

“C’mon Sammy, cheer up!” James mocks in a high-pitched voice while animatedly moving a Trickster hand puppet in Sam’s face.

Sam shoves the puppet harshly, causing a saddened squeak to come from the mini Trickster. It deflates in on itself, and James pouts at the brunette. “Well, ya don’t gotta be so rude!” He huffs and cradles the puppet to his face.

Len turns around angrily, “Jesse! Turn around, put your damn seatbelt on, and shut your trap!”

James slinks down in his seat sullenly, arms crossed and face scrunched up as he sticks his tongue out. He looks like the epitome of a five-year-old pouting.

“Someone’s not very good at keeping their cool,” he mutters under his breath.

Again, Piper rolls his eyes at his companions’ antics, this time with a repressed smile. He pulls out his phone and switches the song to something else. No one complains. They don’t complain because they all know they’d have to fight Piper. If Piper is in the vehicle, he chooses the music, end of story.

He stashes his phone back in his hoodie pocket as “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone plays through the car speakers.

They’re stopped at the four-way intersection by a flashing red light. Mick looks both ways before going to turn left.

There’s a loud sound coming towards them before the world jerks and whirls around. The sounds of breaking glass, airbags activating, and screaming surround Piper. His head slams against the door.

.

.

.

Piper shrugs the hand off his shoulder. It returns and continues to lightly hit him. He shrugs it off a few more times before realizing it won’t go away.

Piper huffs and squints his eyes open. Light immediately assaults him, and he winces noiselessly as he shuts his eyes again. He pushes himself up from his leaning position against the door.

Everything hurts: his head; his eyes; his sides. Only his ears didn't hurt, strangely.

Carefully, Piper squints his eyes open. He has to open them more to see the figure trying to get his attention. It was James, sky-blue eyes wide and hair disheveled.

His mouth is moving quickly, but no sound is coming out. Piper’s brows furrow in confusion. He opens his mouth to speak to James and ask what he is saying.

No sound comes out.

Piper worriedly swallows and tries again.

Still no sound.

Piper brings a hand to his throat and tries to speak. It takes a few futile attempts, but he can feel the vibrations through his throat indicating that he is making noise.

But he can’t hear it.

Piper locks eyes with James, seeing his own panic reflected in those blue eyes. Piper reaches up to his ears. There’s nothing to indicate they bled.

It’s getting difficult to breathe now. The world feels like it’s spinning again, and Piper’s head throbs painfully. Everything is too bright. Everything is too silent.

The van feels like it’s closing in on him, and he presses his hands against the seats to steady himself.

Piper looks around for the door handle. He fumbles with it and falls out of the SUV. Piper pulls himself up and almost falls over when he stands. He shakes his head to clear the nausea away.

Piper looks around dazedly. There’s bright lights of emergency service vehicles. Piper shields his eyes with his arm and steps back.

There’s a man in front of him (when did he get there?). He’s wearing dark blue (like a police officer) and teal gloves. His mouth is moving, not as fast as James’ was, but Piper still can’t tell what he’s saying.

The world sways and the man becomes distant, despite not moving.

Piper’s surrounded by bricks. The nausea returns full force when Piper meets the concrete ground.

His body shakes as he empties his stomach on the alleyway floor. Black spots dance in his vision as he lays on the filthy ground.

Piper’s mind feels fuzzy. His limbs feel like lead. Even breathing hurts.

He can’t even remember how he got here, wherever “here” was. What had happened before? He vaguely remembers the car ride with the Rogues.

The Rogues.

He left them. They’re going to be pissed at him for managing to get himself in this position. Especially Len; for a man going by the alias “Captain Cold” he isn’t cold-hearted. In fact, he’s quite the opposite at times.

The world is soothingly dark, and without noise, it’s easy to slip into unconsciousness.

.

.

.

Piper isn’t sure what wakes him. He does know that he’s in a different place than he was. Instead of cold concrete, there’s a worn and squishy surface underneath him. It seems familiar, but opening his eyes feels like too much of an effort.

So instead, Piper does what he normally does: he listens. But there are no sounds to listen to. Not even his own breathing and heartbeat can be heard.

It’s such a long forgotten feeling, waking up to silence. He feels disconnected from reality, like he’s in some kind of surreal dream. Like he is underwater and floating in nothingness all at the same time. It makes his skin crawl.

Begrudgingly, Piper opens his eyes. He’s pleasantly surprised when darkness greets him instead of searing light. In the dim light, Piper recognizes where he is: the Rogues’ safehouse.

He was here this morning- or at least, he was here before he left with the others. Before the car ride.

Piper carefully sits up. He’s on the only mattress in the building, covered with a fleece blanket. He is still wearing his civvies.

He throws the blanket off and goes to stand. He wobbles, but he doesn’t fall. His body aches horrendously, but he doesn’t want to be alone, so he forces himself to search the warehouse for someone.

Piper spots light coming from under a door. He quietly (at least, he thinks he’s being quiet; it’s kinda hard to tell when you can’t exactly hear) pads over to the door. Immediately, he has to resist the instinct to tilt his head to hear what’s happening on the other side.

He takes a deep breath before turning the handle and opening the door.

Regret is the first thing Piper feels when bright lights cause him to shield his face from their attack. The second is large hands guiding him to a chair.

Warily, he unshields his face and forces himself to look at whichever Rogue is in front of him. He’s surprised to see more than one crowding around him.

Len, Sam, James, and Mick are all standing around Piper. He assumes Mick is the one who guided him to a sitting position, as he is the closest and has a steadying hand on Piper’s arm.

Before he can think to ask questions, a light is shining in his eyes. He goes to look away only to have someone firmly grasp his jaw. As quickly as the light appeared, it leaves.

Piper has to blink a few times to be able to see properly again. The hand on his jaw is snapping in front of him, and Piper follows its motions. The snapping stops and Len crouches down to Piper’s eye level.

Len speaks. Or, at least, his mouth is moving, and Piper just has to assume that Len is, in fact, speaking at him.

Piper squints at Len’s moving lips. It makes his head hurt too much and he gives up before he can play the guessing game of lip-reading.

He slumps in the chair, tired and confused. It must be some sort of signal to the others, because they back up.

He couldn’t hear. He had lost his hearing.

[serengeral-alaan]

Teebz’s (mostly) spoiler free impressions on Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

Overall: a very fun movie! It's not exactly life changing or going to go down as one of the best movies of all time, but it didn't set out to. It's a movie about a fun fantasy adventure with simple, easy-to-digest characters, excellent action scenes, and (mostly) funny writing. I was highly entertained for the 2ish hours the movie ran.

Visually, I think this was a great portrayal of a fantasy setting in cinematic form for the most part. Other movies have tried and failed to make fantasy magic spells (especially ones requiring hand gestures and chanting) look good in film and not cringe, but here they definitely sold the image of movie wizardry for me. The fantasy architecture in particular--the forest village, the northern prison, the Underdark constructions, the city of Neverwinter and its grand arena--were awe-striking. Costuming was pretty great as well--you could tell the costume designers studied a lot of D&D materials for ideas on how to communicate character roles and personalities through their clothing. Thank goodness the entire movie isn't filled with drab grays and browns.

...except the Halflings. Halflings in this movie look *off*. You can tell they just greenscreened a regular irl human and stuck them into the scene. They don't visually fit into the background at all. A lot of the very visually non-humanoid races, like Aarakocras and Dragonborns, also could look better, since they come across like someone wearing an awkward rubber suit than an organic bird/dragon being.

Big kudos to the action choreographers. This movie had some GREAT action scenes. The fight scenes were easy to follow and exciting, going through the proverbial dungeon and traversing the myriad obstacles was fun, and this movie has what might be one of my favorite chase scenes in cinema.

The writing was overall good. The characters were...serviceable. They were nothing terribly interesting, you won't walk out of the theater having experienced a deep character study; the good guys are good, the roguish rogue is roguish, the evil bad guys twirl their moustache while they go on about their evil plans, but they worked for the purposes of the movie. Honor Among Thieves clearly set out to be a fun, presumably one-shot fantasy adventure about going through dungeons and fighting dragons, and the characters' personalities, motivations, and backstories are clear and sufficient to drive the plot. That said, Doric the Druid felt like a third wheel in the story, since she doesn't really have any chemistry with the other three main adventurers, and the movie doesn't make her stake in the plot feel as emotionally impactful as it is for the others.

The overall plot was fine, nothing particularly revolutionary. It might feel a little all over the place due to the Macguffin-chasing nature of its premise, but it felt ultimately driven by its characters without anything too confusing or shoehorned in.

There's a lot of MCU-style quipping in this movie, but unlike the weaker offerings in the MCU lineup, most of the humor in this movie works. The characters do sometimes quip in the middle of action scenes, but for the most part such quipping *adds* to the levity of the fight than subtracting from the tension. When our heroes are beating up generic guards by the dozens, they poke fun at things because *of course* a bunch of no name guards aren't going to stop our heroes; but when shit gets real and the fights get serious, people shut up and fight. The quipping doesn't land *all* the time, but they land *most* of the time and don't really undermine the movie.

A sidenote on how good of a *Dungeons and Dragons* movie this Dungeons and Dragon movie was: you can quibble about small details, and you can justifiably complain that this is yet another piece of D&D media set in the Sword Coast, but it's clear that the filmmakers did their D&D homework. The characters' backstories sound like something a player in a D&D game might come up with, the villains are classic Faerun villains, and much of the movie's logic works on D&D logic (like stopping a spellcaster from casting a spell by muffling their mouth). Moreover, while the movie does poke fun at a couple of D&Disms, overall it does not come across like it's ashamed of its source material. It doesn't make fun of spellcasters for having to chant and wave their hands around to do magic. It doesn't try and argue that the existence of an Owlbear is dumb and absurd. The movie felt like it was made by people who like D&D, for people who like D&D.

That said, I saw the movie with a friend of mine who knows zilch about D&D. He found the movie to be very entertaining as well, but had a hard time understanding the minutiae of what happened. So emotionally the movie worked for him and the movie does its best to explain D&Disms the best it can, but if you're unfamiliar with D&D, a lot of things in this movie might make you scratch your head a bit.

One last note, and something a lot more spoilery than the above: the thing that stuck with me most about this movie is how it portrayed a straight-laced Lawful Good Paladin. We've had what feels like decades of Hollywood trying to tell us that being good, noble, and upright is for naïve losers, that being cynical and quick with a sarcastic jab is the truest sign of intelligence and wisdom. This movie doesn't do that. You meet a Paladin who is good, kind, honest, and polite, and while the movie pokes fun at some of his mannerisms (like his utter refusal to deal with sarcasm and metaphor), the movie never thinks he's lame. The Paladin we see is *cool*. Our quippy, cynical main character tries really hard to undermine the Paladin but *fails*. The Paladin sets out to do what he wishes to do, succeeds with flying colors, and the movie never once tries to portray him as a loser or a dweeb. It's a very refreshing take on Paladins specifically and Hollywood writing in general.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 011

We’re still on Beerus vs. Super Saiyan God Goku.

This episode is pretty thin on story, but it makes up for it with some nice visuals.  It’s not necessarily well animated, per se, but the screenshots I took look really cool.  Let’s enjoy a few, shall we?

Okay, I think that’ll do it. 

Phase 2 of this fight is mostly Beerus attacking Goku with bigger and bigger offensive moves, basically daring Goku to discover more and more of his new power.  For example, he launches a big energy ball at Goku, and he manages to deflect it into the air.  So Beerus makes an even bigger one, which Goku can’t hurl away, so Goku crushes it instead, which seems like it ought to be harder, but I dunno.

Goku soon catches on that Beerus isn’t using anywhere close to his full strength for this fight, and he presumes that this is because Beerus has lived such a long life with such supreme power, that he rarely, if ever, gets a chance to fight with his full strength.  So Goku can respect his need to draw this battle out, if only to savor the experience, but Beerus suddenly whoops Goku’s ass, warning “Don’t try to understand me.  You have no idea.”

In an effort to push Goku further, Beerus launches him into space, then threatens to destroy the Earth in order to light a fire under him.  Goku manages to neutralize his attack with a Kamehameha, so Beerus raises the stakes...

... by making more hakai blasts for Goku to deal with.  So Goku blows them away with an even bigger Kamehameha...

And then Beerus punches a hole in his liver like it’s nothing.  Goku plummets down to the ocean below, while Beerus monologues about how he was mistaken, and Goku wasn’t the rival he had been hoping for.

This whole part of the episode feels like some overwrought dramatic scene in a manga, the part you read and wonder what the hell is going on.  I don’t necessarily mean this as a compliment, since I’m pretty sure they only went in this direction to cut corners.  There’s no lip flaps, and not much movement from the characters.  It’s like someone at Toei looked at the budget and started trying to find ways to do more with less, and they looked to comic books for storytelling tools.  I respect the resourcefulness, but I have to point out that it didn’t have to be this way.  We already had the Battle of Gods movie.   Making a TV anime version was redundant at best, and doing it cheaply is just insulting.

So what the hell does Goku do about this?  Nothing, that’s what.

As he sinks to the bottom, his wound magically heals, and he powers up all over again, and becomes excited to pit himself against Beerus’ strength one more time. 

And that’s pretty much the narrative of this fight so far.  Every time Beerus and Goku think that Goku is out of gas, the Super Saiyan God power puts him back in the game. 

Which... it kind of what works against this whole five-episode fight.  It worked in the movie because it was so short.  Goku just held his own against Beerus, and then the power wore off, and he continued to fight on that level anyway.  And that’s basically what’s going on in DBS 10-14, except they’re spending more time on showing Goku’s resilience, which is kind of irrelevant.  Goku’s not going to win this thing, but this fight has been constructed in such a way to make it look like he could.  It reminds me a lot of the early portion of Goku’s fight with Frieza on Namek, where Frieza kept trying to beat him down and Goku kept finding new depths to his strength and stamina, until he finally turned into a Super Saiyan. 

Except, that’s not what’s going on here.  Goku’s already transformed, and he can’t turn into a “Super Saiyan God 2″ or whatever, because that’s not how this story ends.   Beerus keeps pushing Goku, but there’s no payoff to it.  Beerus isn’t going to lose, and Goku isn’t going to get some big Superman comeback. 

And that wasn’t a problem in the movie, but it’s a problem here, because it’s so much longer and there’s no way to add a believable twist to the story without drastically altering the outcome.  They tried to fake out the audience by making it look like Beerus killed Goku, but did anyone really buy that?  Beerus waited 39 years to fight this guy.

[fabulivonline]

Tips to buy Solid Wood Coffee Table Online at cheaper rates 

Coffee table, I think most of you are aware of this furniture piece. At the time we go on a date with someone, this furniture piece is almost found as this furniture piece is made especially for couples but is also used by all of us. You should at least make sure that you are aware of every piece of furniture though we are not using the same. Everyone you get in your life is a blessing from god as there are still many people living in the 21st Century who don’t have anyone who understands them or makes them feel better.

Everything that exists in the world has some or other importance in our lives. Also, when the product is made or any human being is born there will surely be some purpose for that. People should always try to save money and at the same time, they should also save space and arrange their pieces of furniture accordingly. The person you got whom you feel safe and blessed is the one who also understands you. Never let that person go away as everyone doesn’t get one and if gone will never come back.

You don’t need to worry about why this product is like that, or why this person is like this, everything that you see around always has one or the other purpose to live or exist on this earth. When it’s time to decorate or decide on the interior of the entire house or any particular room, always try to find out the approximate figure of what will be kept where and how much will it need to keep or place at that specific place. Always make our friends or loved ones feel special by inviting them for dinner. Giving them small gifts, chocolates, and happiness in their lives. 

You should never feel low or ashamed of yourself. Many people usually think that there is no purpose or there is importance in being alive on this earth. This is nothing but the solid wood coffee table and yes, the name of this table is already mentioned in the very first line of this article. Make sure that you measure the total space and width available in your house or particular room to keep or place this solid wood coffee table. Many pieces of furniture are very small in size but they occupy more space than expected. At the same time, many pieces of furniture are very big in size but occupy less space than expected. 

Make this international women’s day a day that will never be forgotten by you and try to make it as special as you can with your loved ones. There are many things or many pieces of furniture that we think are not of any importance or are not useful for us. One particular piece of furniture has many different shapes and sizes which is to be decided by us and our family members. Having this piece of furniture at your home try to make use of it most of the time and feel blessed that your friends or loved ones come to your house and make memories just because of that piece of furniture.

These tables will always add balance to your rooms which are mostly made or constructed in straight-edged shapes. These tables are also perfect for a house where there is a lack of space as these pieces of furniture always give the illusion of more space. But, if you buy that particular thing or that particular product in your house and keep that in front of everyone, you will always feel that yes, this is important and later, you will surely thank yourself. 

If you are deciding on your interior for the living room, make sure that you always decide to keep the solid wood coffee table on the list. After deciding everything, if you are ready to buy a coffee table then make sure that the table should be two-thirds that too the width of your sofa. If you prefer to buy a coffee table or a refectory table, always try to buy a table which is made up of wood as these tables are always the best option as there are many designs available especially for the product which are made up of wood. Yes, people, you should have at least one coffee table which will make your house look modern and luxurious. If not, you can also buy any type or any shape of table which perfectly fits in your house according to the theme and the interior of your house.

[jeanmoreaux]

Pls don’t shoot me this is the anon earlier |(￣3￣)|

I did enjoy the original grisha trilogy of Leigh but opposite to what you mentioned 😆! I appreciated the little world building and I could understand (kind of, the magic system is still meh to me) the fantasy setting she was going for, and I liked a lot of her concepts and the set up.

I believe what turned me off was the execution of plot lines and overused tropes, and….no character development. Most of all, every character was very, very bland to me I’M SORRY ALINA IS SO BORING (even though in the tv series, her actress is awesome but I feel nothing for the character herself)

The few characters I did like (very much so) were Genya and Nikolai (tho he did feel exaggerated at times)…and I feel a lot of potential for them was just wasted/abandoned :< in general I feel a lot of potential for how much better the trilogy could have been—were wasted. These are my feelsss

…..that’s all thank you for being my favorite blog to visit often because I get so many new recommendations (books, poetry, update on shows or movies even!) (⌒▽⌒)!!!!

oh pls anon i'd never shoot you for sharing your opinion! i definitely see where you're coming from and you do have a point. i get how it could feel like that, especially if you've first read the novels some years after they were first published. what i definitely agree with is the "wasted potential" of some characters—particularly nikolai, genya and zoya! i don't think i'll ever get over leigh bardugo introducing SO MANY POVs in the nikolai duology. that it really didn't do anything to the story and just kind of weakened the emotional delivery of nikolai's story. however, i think it's not entirely justified how much criticism the original grisha trilogy gets for tired/overused tropes/plot lines since it's actually one of the novels that established these things in the ya fantasy genre in the first place. ((it's as if you'd criticise thg for employing overused dystopian tropes/plot lines.)) personally, i enjoyed alina as a main character a lot more on my reread of the series last year! i guess a lot of her characterisation just happens more subtly between the lines—or in what you as a reader want to draw from subtext. in general i think the way we read and enjoy characters is SUPER subjective, so i can definitely see why someone wouldn't enjoy alina as a main character precisely bc there is a lot of room for interpretation with her character! and i agree with you, jessie's performance in s&b is great, she adds a lot to the character! ((and with nikolai being exaggerated at time—i think that's a deliberate choice to kind of show how constructed nikolai's persona is..... he's playing so many parts and cranks them up too much at times to compensate and distract from his "real self". i am quite interested to see how the actor decides to play him in the show. there is so many different ways you can approach the character and i think i'll enjoy some more than others....))

i definitely think the choices they made when adapting the material were mostly positive and added something to the show so far, which is i am very excited for season two!! i am curious to see how they'll approach the story and characters this time around.

also, thank you so much for the lovely compliments. i am blushing a little, that's so nice :')

[phantomrose96]

My relationship with content creation and hobbies, in general, got a lot better when I started learning to reframe it as a simple act of human creation, and not a metric of my own self worth.

We’re taught competition, and perfectionism, and shame. If I say “I cook” I must add “(but not well)”. If I say “I run” I must say “(but I am not good at it).” I say “I code (but I mostly know frontend).” I create and express and my first impulse is to guard against embarrassment. Lest I fall so short of marketable competence. Lest I subject myself to the mockery of being caught creating poorly. I wound myself first so others may not.

Even the advice that fights against this says “your only goal should be to be better than yourself yesterday.” But why must I be in competition with her? What happens, after the initial rapid climb in skill, when I plateau? What of injury, and atrophy, and depression, that flake these skills away? Must I return feeling compelled to over-achieve? To wallow in embarrassment until I can surpass my own previous record? To hate my work until the reception, the notes, the engagement outperform an ever rising bar? I do not want to be paralyzed by the mountains I built behind me. Why should I look behind myself when there’s a wide swath of untilled Earth that stretches far out of sight ahead of me? I want to enjoy my work, and my mediocrity, moving forward with all its ebbs and flows.

At my worst, I was nothing. I was not a writer. Because I had forgone writing for all the fear and stress and damage to my self-worth that it wrought. I was not a coder. Because I was only useful for the niches of my job, and didn’t have the heart to create something badly, on my own, for fun, lest it confirm my suspicions of mediocrity. I was not even a runner - despite the extreme and exhaustive amount of time I sunk into it - because I fell short of my previous self, and I could not hold a candle to the actually-skilled runners, and I was forced to speak of this hobby in all those guarded terms - “but i am not good” - because of how much that ate at me. 

I was no cook, and no homemaker, and no creator, because when I did those things, (I did them poorly.) 

And when all these came together, I wallowed in emptinesses. (I still do, sometimes. It’s hard and complicated). Because emptiness is what was left when I stripped myself of the things and the pursuits whose lack of value could be used to hurt me.

The change for me - the change, I think - came at the time I started to recognize that I do not deserve self-punishment for my mediocrities, for the failings of my current state of being. It was not a revelation all at once. It was a slow and progressive flirting with the idea, found almost by accident on self-help youtube channels of a very particular ilk. It came with the recognition that I had trapped myself, wiling away my time and my energy, in a state of constant apology, and shame, and self-correction for the mediocrities I dare not unleash onto the world. I boxed myself up with the promise “once I am good enough, I will be allowed to come back out”, and that was a lie. I would never have come back out. I was chasing punishing metrics of self-improvement that I did not need, and would never actually catch and maintain, and which would never love me back.

It took a long time to internalize this. It took a long time to get angry on my own behalf. It took a long time to act on it, and write again because fuck you. To run on my own terms, at my own pace, for my own enjoyment because fuck you. To create with my hands again because fuck you. To lean into the happiness of creation that I had not “earned”, because fuck you.

I like creating because it fills an emptiness that used to be there. It’s so simple, and so lovely, that humans are like this. That we want to build with our hands. That we want to assemble and construct. That we derive joy from stacking pieces together, and stringing words together, and assembling colors on a page, and moving, and singing, and baking, and knitting. Humans love to build little worlds around them. 

So why must we so actively try to cut people off from it off from it? Why do we condition ourselves to fear its mediocrity? Why does this still our hands? Why do we suffocate it for ourselves, before others can? I don’t have an answer. I can only recognize the monster. 

I want to make bad art today. I want to make bad art tomorrow. If I am a worse writer tomorrow, I want that to be fine. If I am never more than a mediocre runner, I want to be at complete peace with that. Because if not, then I might box away my hobbies again, and my loves, and my pursuits. I might go back to empty. I might go back to nothing.

I hate that emptiness I lived through. I hate that nothing. I want to make bad art for the rest of my life. 

[gingersnappish]

KYLUX RECS 2020-2021

My Kylux Recs in the last year (Aug, 20 2020 - Aug 20 2021)

SO. MUCH. GOOD. FIC!!! We are really lucky in this fandom to have so much good stuff to read!

Fic is part of the lifeblood of fandom, in my opinion-it shares new ideas and AUs and fleshes out the characters and most of all it inspires and entertains us all and engenders all sorts of feels for the characters-it’s part of what keeps us shipping! So a big ‘thank you’ to all the fic authors out there who work so hard at their craft and are generous enough to share it with all of us!

The following list is by no means comprehensive-there are LOTS and lots more very good fics that have been published in the last year that I haven’t read. I just wanted to offer up a few recs from what I know I enjoyed so far! (I also have more than fits on one list to rec-I’ll try and do another list soon!) As always, I rec based on personal taste, and I highly encourage reading all the tags/warnings on any given work to make sure it’ll be to your taste! -

The Flirtation Of Flowers 

DaisyChainz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771553

Words: 5,917

Rating: Teen

Summary:Kylo runs his farm's stall at the Farmer's Market every weekend. He has a new customer, a gorgeous redhead that is curious about the meanings of his bouquets. Kylo doesn't know anything about that, so he makes stuff up to keep the man coming back every week.

My thoughts on the rec: This is the cutest slice of a modern AU kylux-it really nails Kylo’s personality as a (slightly awkward) flirt who is trying his best and just really likes the redhead who keeps coming to buy flowers. Just a sweet little fic all ‘round!

all i have to do is dream

kyluxtrashcompactor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709426/chapters/44373613

Words: 11,456

Rating: Teen

Summary:Armitage Hux has been going to the same bar every Thursday for the last year, nursing a crush on the gorgeous, unobtainable bartender, Kylo Ren. He finally gets up the courage to ask him out, only to find out he has some unusual competition: the memory of a red-haired boy from Kylo's past, who Kylo swears is the soulmate that got away from him.A fill for this SoftKyluxKinks prompt:Anonymous asked: Benarmie with young Ben (around 11 years old) having a huge crush on Armitage (16). Hux finds it adorable but mostly ignores him because he's a kid. Flash forward a few years when Ben is all grown up and Hux is the one with a huge crush.

My thoughts on the rec: This is another really cute young modern AU! I like the idea that Ren has liked Hux forever, but this deals nicely with the age gap and that Hux really wouldn’t notice Ren back until they are both appropriately older. And they make such a cute couple-it’s a great progression from just ‘he’s hot’-like, there is a lot more to them than that in the end!

Homecoming 

sigo 

(really, read anything by sigo, it’s all my favorite)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150808

Words: 13,450

Rating: Explicit

Summary:“We’re off the next two weeks, you know.”“Yes, I know.” There was emergency construction scheduled to fix cracking asphalt too near a pipe in the center of campus. The buses couldn’t run, and that phenomenon was the only thing that ever cancelled classes. Halloween was dead center in the unplanned time off school, and every bar within a fifteen mile radius would be untenable as the students celebrated. Hux was planning on staying home, catching up on grading. He was rather looking forward to an opportunity to reread his favorite novels. They were already stacked by the couch in preparation.“My family always throws a Halloween party and they got word that I could come this year,” Kylo said, shuffling his feet. He looked almost bashful.“Ren, it’s midnight,” Hux sighed at his infuriating coworker. “Get to it.”“I may have informed my entire family previously that we were dating.”

My thoughts on the rec: One of my all-around fav fics from the last year’s worth of my reading material! It’s got the modern AU vibes down pat without losing their personalities or making them too OOC, it’s got the fake-dating trope done REALLY well, it’s got a wonderful creepy vibe strung delicately throughout for the Halloween haunted setting, it’s got plot and make-outs (and more). Can’t recommend highly enough!

Thaw

thesevioletdelights

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557180/chapters/69982587

Words: 14,316

Rating: Explicit

Summary:They have managed cooperation - efficient cooperation, even - in these past months, which is more than enough. And already nothing short of a miracle for both of them.Still. Ren was a fool to think he could simply run off and keep Hux in the dark.-----When Ren goes missing on a mysterious planet, Hux sets out to find him. He doesn't yet know that he just might find himself.

My thoughts on the rec: This, like all of violet’s fic, is HOT! Like, scorching vibes between them! It’ll draw you in and not let you go ‘til after the boys are ‘done’! And, like all of violet’s fics, the character voices and personalities are also impeccable!

Rocks Break Gifts

elderbwrry

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840237/chapters/62777839

Words: 16,706

Rating: Mature

Summary:The Rebellion has been crushed, a coup affected, and Supreme Leader Ren and his Grand Marshall Hux have settled into a domestic routine as the joint rulers of the Galaxy. Kylo wants nothing more, now, than to make his relationship with Hux official, but he can't seem to rise to Hux's challenge of a satisfactory proposal.Or, the five times Kylo proposes, and the one time Hux says yes.

My thoughts on the rec: Ahhhhh, the premise in this one is great! Like, I don’t wanna spoil the plot reveal at the end, so I can’t say too much, but there is a really good reason throughout the thing that this is a Five Times type fic and it works! It works so well and while we spend the fic ‘with’ Kylo, when we find out what Hux’s deal is, it is so satisfying! I Paint My Dreams

Marlon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685907/chapters/65090566

Words: 26,122

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:Kylo Ren is struggling to make a name for himself in the art world but as the grandson of the great Anakin Skywalker, a legendary pop artist of the 1950s and 60s, the weight of his famous family and his own expectations is a lot to bear.After he’s rejected from a prestigious exhibition because his installations “don’t fit the theme”, Kylo heads to the pub to drink away his disappointment. Later that night as he stumbles home, he’s set upon by some would-be thieves but before they can take what’s left of his money, he’s saved by a strange man with unbelievable Medusa-like powers. The ethereally beautiful man, Armitage Hux, is a visitor from Oweynagat and he has a simple proposition for Kylo - room and board in exchange for making all Kylo’s artistic dreams come true.Sounds easy - what could possibly go wrong?

My thoughts on the rec: Oh goodness, where to start? The Irish Mythology and Fae aspect of this fic is superbly woven throughout the whole thing and the author makes it work really well! Like, this is such a unique and original take on the kylux pair, I love them, especially Fae!Hux in this! And the plot is solid and you get invested really heavily in how they are gonna wind up-at least I did! There’s some beautiful language in this-descriptions and dialogue! And I have a soft spot for Artist!Kylo!

Dating a Monster

mysticmilks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703904/chapters/65139415

Words: 30,401

Rating: Explicit

Summary:Ben Solo was raised to be a demon hunter, as everyone in his family has been before him. He wanted nothing more than to prove that he was worthy to his family. He lied to them and went on an unauthorized mission to catch and kill an elusive incubus. His search led him to Arkanis University, one of the most prestigious schools in the country.He was sure the mission was going to be easy, before he met the cute freshman Armitage Hux. This meeting would change the fate of both of them.

My thoughts on the rec: Add another really good one to the slightly-creepy-kylux subgenre filled with demons and dark powers! This is a great depiction of Kylo as a very determined demon hunter and Hux as a very unique quarry! I love the tension in parts of this too-well crafted! The Green Ribbon

xzombiexkittenx, Lilander (art)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630845/chapters/70176921

Words: 39,679

Rating: Explicit

Summary:When Ben was fifteen he left the Jedi temple and took extreme measures to prevent the shadowy creature that infiltrated his thoughts from dragging him to the dark side. What he did left him with a great deal of chronic pain and removed his most valuable weapon, but Ben got his stubbornness from every side of the family, even the adopted ones, and he was determined to find and kill the creature.Now Senator Amidala of Naboo, Ben uses his position to make the galaxy a less awful place when he can, but being senator also gave him very useful contacts in his search for the creature. When he met Major Hux of the First Order, Ben thought he could get game-changing information out of him, one way or another, but things rarely go Ben's way and it got complicated much faster than Ben had prepared for. It's never a good idea to mix sex and politics, but Ben takes his fun where he can get it.

My thoughts on the rec: I feel like this is a very original take on ‘Senator Amidala’ Ben, at least from the stuff I’ve read-many props to the author for such a fleshed out universe, filled with likeable, believable OCs, a wonderful plot, great character motivations and voices, and a take on our main man Ben that pulled me in from the get-go! He’s sorta magnetic (in universe and to the reader)! And the sexual tension and sexy bits are very well done! I’m rooting for Ben and Hux in this, on opposites sides though they may be! Comfort Zone

LydiaBSlade

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783797/chapters/65338117

Words: 66,766

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hux is running away. He meets a tall, dark, and somewhat annoying stranger at the airport.

My thoughts on the rec: Travel writing at its best; also kylux fic at it’s best! Young, modern them trying to find their places in the world and finding each other in the process is so cute and almost tenderly done in this! This is a gentle, friendly version of modern Kylo that I fell in love with, right along with Hux! And by the way, I’m not kidding when I say travel writing-the southeast asian setting is vivid and enchanting in it’s rich detail! Outnumbered, Outgunned, Outmanuevered, and Winning

Coriesocks, Ellalba (art)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217253/chapters/69144672

Words: 80,372

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hux’s plans for ridding the First Order of Kylo Ren are ruined when Ren discovers his deception. With no choice but to flee, Hux ends up in the hands of the Resistance. It’s not ideal, but at least he gets a break from Ren. Until he doesn’t.When Ren starts appearing in Hux’s dreams, Hux wonders if the stress of being a spy has taken more of a toll on his sanity than he’d previously thought. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he has to deal with constant pestering from Poe and a mildly inconvenient kidnapping. Of course, it’s Ren who saves him in the end. There’s clearly no getting away from him.

My thoughts on the rec: A really interesting take on something that is both a alternate rewrite of what could have happened instead of TROS and a TROS-fix-it of sorts! Hux is stellar in this, we really get a good look in his head and Coriesocks handles it masterfully! I really liked how their relationship develops gradually in this, it’s Enemies To Lovers at its best! Bloodlines and Brandy

EmperorsVornskr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989934/chapters/54963601

Words: 130,785

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sebastian Hux is a native of the Deep South who loathes his origins, and seeks to pull himself from the stifling quagmire, but his bloodlines call him back to the property that has blessed- and plagued- his family for centuries.Unspoken secrets fill his inheritance, skeletons fill every closet, and a monster lurks in the shadows, tied to two bloodlines joined by fate, greed and hatred that has spanned across generations.As Hux learns about his family’s tainted legacy that has now become his burden, he discovers there is more involved than just having to be the curator of property that the locals shun with hushed whispers, that he has inherited more than an estate- he also has a terrible and loathsome horror tied to his very blood.When curious young locals come calling, and Hux’s past tormentors come out of the woodwork to simper and scrabble for a piece of the newly rich, the body count begins to rise, the smell of blood in the old slaughterhouse is getting harder to hide, and Hux realises that he will need to find a better way to pacify the hulking shadow that perches on his roof every night before his hometown’s tiny population is completely decimated.

My thoughts on the rec: This one is EPIC! Like, in length (which it needs every word of for the story that is going on here) and in the great portrayal of Kylo and Hux and their relationship! It’s super original too-not just the plot but the depiction of Kylo as something ‘other’ and the Southern Gothic vibes, and Hux-this is a wonderful take on Hux! He loses none of his edge, in my opinion and yet the reader is ‘with’ him all the way through, rooting for him! The descriptions are killer too-EmperorsVornskr has a felicity of expression that kept me reading (albeit in more than one sitting). Also worth noting that this is a wonderful and carefully handled depiction of trans!Hux, in my admittedly cis opinion. The theme of finding your tribe/your people/and your special someone in this, albeit in sometimes unexpected places is warming! I enjoyed every moment of this fic! Gravity Well

kyluxtrashcompactor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062495/chapters/29879001

Words: 176,421

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Snoke is gone, but his death has solved nothing between Hux and Kylo Ren. The First Order's trust in their leaders wanes as they vie for power over one another, and if they cannot learn to work together, they may both lose everything they've worked for.Forging that alliance after years at each other's throats will not be as easy as letting the past die, however—they will face subterfuge, enemies in the shadows, treachery, and being stranded on a hostile planet with creatures out of nightmare, barely escaping constant danger with their lives while having only one another to rely on.And that is just the beginning.

My thoughts on the rec: I realize this one is very well known by now, but I’ll rec it again for good reason! It’s quality long-fic! I love how competent Hux is in this surival-style fic, even without the Force to save him! And Kylo is a badass! kyluxtrashcompactor is a master of the slow burn here and we’re even lucky enough to be getting a sequel (although Gravity Well will also stand perfectly on its own). The writing in this will draw you in and not let you go!

----

That’s all for now! I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I did!  

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.