#oh also i made the lines blue they were black originally

[pipskippy]

PAREO featuring hints of my first risograph print :-) the cute smiler

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[megamindsecretlair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 1

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some unresolved tension, mutual voyeurism, cursing, mentions of female and male parts, Part 1 of ? Not sure how long this will take to resolve. Age gap, reader is mid 20s, Nomad Steve is mid 30s.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the Army to make him a super soldier. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. You and your mom have gone over to introduce yourselves.

Word Count: 1,857k

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics so decided to try my hand at another. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But this was fun. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help writers!

Fuck, your neighbor was hot as hell. You sat on your window seat gawking at the tall, sexy neighbor as he picked up huge boxes and carried them in the house as if it weighed no more than feathers. 

Muscles rippled in a dark blue muscle shirt as he moved and bent over. And that ass. You bit your lip as the neighbor bent further down to lift a chair. Oh and those thighs. You sighed. The Lord took His time with this one. 

The man was at least six foot tall, dark blond hair and a full trimmed beard. He wore a pair of dark jeans and boots. All week, you had watched him go in and out of the newly bought house next door. He carried lots of boxes but none of them gave any clue to his story.

Was he married? Was he expecting? Surely someone that damn fine had a wife heavenly pregnant and ordering him about. You weren’t sure how he didn’t have eleven rugrats running around. There were no other movers and the neighbor had rented a small truck for his sofa and dressers. 

You also saw the neighborhood crones using any excuse in the book to talk to him and be nosy. If he thought someone that looked like him was going to move here without raising any alarms, he was sorely mistaken.

You gasped as he stopped to stretch, moving his body beyond his limit. You just wanted to lick him. Just once. You fanned yourself as you watched him. You imagined all kinds of filthy things when it came to him. 

You imagined him grabbing your fleshy thighs and shaking them before slapping them. You imagined him in between your legs coating that full beard with your juices. You imagined him breaking your back. Like, literally breaking your back. Because he could put you in the hospital and you’d say thank you.

He disappeared into the house. His curtains were thrown open so you could still watch him moving around the house. The downfall to stock houses was that they were lined up just so. The houses were nearly identical. Your bedroom window faced his bedroom window on the second floor. The angle you had was just enough to see his kitchen sink. It’d be possible to see his arms and hands as he washed. 

You spent plenty of nights this week just watching his hands work over his meager dishes. If he was married, she didn’t live with him. You never saw anyone coming or going from his place. He didn’t have a second car. 

Your mom called your name. “I’ve got this cake for the neighbor, let’s go introduce ourselves,” she called. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, your mom was very much just as gossipy as the neighborhood crones. Everything you’ve heard of the neighbor was through her and probably had twisted from its original message. 

You weren’t dressed yet. You had made watching him your dirty hobby. But you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes, you got the eerie feeling as if he were watching you too. You had taken to keeping your curtains open and your light on. 

You never saw him look over here. The random times he was in his room and moving around, he never gave any indication that he knew you were looking. Still, you pranced around in your bra and panties every morning or before hanging with your friends as you decided what to wear.

Sometimes, you even faced the window as you decided between two shirts or two skirts. You pretended that he was picking your outfits, telling you what he likes seeing you in. That he would imagine ripping it off of your body all day and it would drive him crazy. Knowing you’d be capable of making him hard and uncomfortable all day turned you on so badly. 

You stood and did just that. You faced his bedroom window even though he was probably still on the first floor. You held up a red, frilly shirt and a light ocean blue plain shirt. You flipped back and forth, imagining what he’d like.

You put the shirts on your bed and then flipped between jeans and white shorts. You held up the red shirt and white shorts. If you were going to meet him, you might as well show him what you’re working with. You turned around and imagined him at the window, getting dressed for him. 

You bent low and shimmied into the white shorts as slow as you could. Then you slipped on the red babydoll tee. It made your breasts look good. Plus it was hot as sin outside. 

You ran down the stairs and sat on the steps as you slipped on your shoes. Your mom floated into the room holding a small box. “I went with chocolate,” your mom said. “Everybody likes chocolate and those who don’t are lying to get attention.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Your mom was gorgeous, with flowing locs and a great figure. She wore loose tan pants and a cream shirt. 

“Isn’t this a little Southern of us?” You asked. You lived in Suburbia with the white picket fences and neighbors who’d gone to high school together. It was capital boredom and should be labeled as a torture method.

“Best way to meet your neighbors. They associate you with good food and are less likely to be rude to you by throwing loud parties and orgies,” your mother said.

You snorted. Your mom never had a filter and would often say the first thing that comes to mind. Your dad hated it but you caught him smiling more than a few times. 

You trudged over the manicured lawn, over the small concrete divider, and onto his property. The door was closed. He was probably taking a break from moving things. Your mom rang the doorbell and you waited.

The door finally opened and you gasped silently. He was even more gorgeous in person. Fuck, it had to be illegal to carry those arms. They looked big enough to crush a coconut in one grip. His hands were large and his fingers were long, like a musician's fingers.

He smirked at you and your mother. Your mom stepped forward. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, we’re your neighbors on that side,” she said and pointed to your house. 

She told him your names and all about the chocolate cake, including her joke about people lying. He threw his head back as he laughed as if it were that funny.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He shook your mom’s hand and then moved to yours. His grip was firm but not crushing.  

You looked down at your combined hands, loving the way that your copper skin contrasted with his creamy skin. He held on a second too long before turning his attention to your mom who asked him a million questions.

“If I heard all of those, I’d say I moved here for work, not married, and I work for the military. Did I get it all?” He asked.

He had a bit of an accent. You guessed somewhere on the East Coast. Your mom giggled. You looked at her as if she grew a third head. She widened her eyes at you and then smiled back at Steve. She prattled on about her career, that fact that you were in college for your master’s, and that you were always available if he needed you. 

Since his attention was on your mom, you took the opportunity to study him up close. His blue eyes were sharp, giving one hundred percent of his focus on the person speaking. He had a prominent vein on the side of his neck and you imagined licking it. 

“Oh, I have to take this, excuse me,” your mom said. She answered her phone and stepped off of the porch. 

You turned to Steve who had his eyes trained on you. He barely blinked and did not look away. 

“So, military huh? That explains that,” you said. You waved at his figure and he laughed. It was deep and made you tingle.

“Thank you. I’m not active duty anymore, I’ve transitioned to the state side and do boring office work now. You home for the summer?” He asked.

“Yes, I am. Taking a break so no work, no homework, just time to decompress. Usually in the pool. This is one of the worst summers ever,” you said and fanned yourself.

Steve slowly perused your body. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He faintly smirked as he took in your outfit, your wide curves, your generous hips, and your thick thighs. 

He slowly dragged that gaze back up until he reached your face. “Make sure you stay cool, then. Dehydration is nothing to play with,” he said. 

Your mouth went dry under the intense heat of his gaze. You were aware. You were aware of him and aware of his focus. You bit your lips and his eyes zeroed in on it. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You shifted your footing, trying to find some relief. The heat outside had nothing on his face. 

Your mom’s scuffling shoes took you out of the moment. He winked at you before your mom joined you. Though it was Saturday, her job needed her to come in and solve an emergency. She waved goodbye to Steve and told him not to be a stranger.

You waved bye, unable to speak at the moment. As you turned to leave, Steve grabbed your hand. He ran his fingers over your wrist as he leaned in.

“My favorite color is light blue. And you should get more of those garter things. They look divine on you,” he said. Gravel skated over ‘divine’ and you whimpered. You hoped he didn’t catch that. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and his eyes narrowed again. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He knew what you had been doing all along. Your skin heated for entirely different reasons as you thought of all the different lingerie combinations you tried on in front of the window. It somehow made it filthier that he was getting naughty glimpses of you. It made you horny all day thinking of wearing the lingerie and that he didn’t know it was for him. 

It had gotten so bad, that you didn’t care if your parents were home. You had to get off on thinking that he helped select the combos. And those were some of the best orgasms you ever gave yourself. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and licked your lips. He smiled and nodded his head as if he were dismissing you. As if he had any right to order you around. 

Yet you left the porch and nearly skipped across the lawn like he told you. Before getting in the house, you looked back. He stood on the porch, facing you, with his hands in his pockets. You smiled and went inside, thinking of how many blue outfits you owned.

Read Part 2 | Read Part 3

[lightandfellowship]

Please Consider Him (my attempt at a Quadratum Vidar).

Design notes under the read more:

There were multiple elements of Vidar's original design that I wanted to maintain for his Quadratum look: his blue/yellow/black/beige color scheme, his black turtleneck, his asymmetrical top, and his partially uncovered arms. I felt these elements were essential to properly capturing Vidar's vibe, and changing or removing them would make him feel...well, less like Vidar.

For his top, I knew I wanted to simulate the asymmetrical jacket, where one side was longer than the other, and also give him something with a collar since his jacket kinda has a collar, so I thought a half-untucked button-down would do the job nicely. I didn't really want to give Vidar a typical coat or anything long-sleeved, even though that would be a natural route to take given his original jacket, because again, like I said, I wanted some part of his arms to be uncovered. So I made his button-down have rolled up sleeves that are secured in place by a button. I copied the beige lining design from his original jacket, of course, along with the square design on his shoulders, only facing out instead of in so that his collar doesn't overlap it.

I originally considered turning Vidar's sash chain into a pocket chain, since that seems like the most obvious way to translate it into a more modern accessory, but I decided not to for two reasons. One, Baldr's design already features a pocket chain, and I didn't want to pull from other characters' designs. And two, I thought it might conflict with the untucked shirt, making that area of the design too busy. So I decided to turn it into a necklace instead. I also gave Vidar matching earrings, but I mostly just did that for style, not for any specific design reason.

I was really torn about what to do with Vidar's yellow sash. Some options I considered were a yellow buckled belt or a yellow jacket tied around his waist, but I felt like these fashion choices would be too loud for Vidar's personality (idk, that amount of yellow looks fine for Vidar's more traditional clothing, but modern fashion in bright yellow just doesn't feel right for him). I eventually settled on turning the sash into a cloth bracelet. It maintains the knotted cloth look while also being more understated, just a small pop of color on his wrist. I paired it with a beaded bracelet that matches his necklace, and a plain black bracelet on the opposite wrist to resemble his original right glove design. I also noticed that Vidar has some white cloth wrappings underneath his left glove, and even though they're probably not meant to be bandages, I took inspiration from that regardless and gave him a little bandaid on his elbow.

I decided to translate the black obi underneath his yellow sash into a black buckled belt. His original left glove also has studding on the top edge, so I gave this belt some studs as well. I think it helps it to stand out from the black pants better, since they're so similar in hue/value. (Tangent--apologies for not adding belt loops to his pants, I couldn't get it to look right. So his belt is just kinda suspended there without anything securing it in place. Oh well.) I also let him keep the fingerless gloves from his original design but just made them shorter so that they'd be more practical to everyday living. And also so that there's more room for his bracelets.

His pants are basically the same, I just made them a little less poofy, for that jeans-tucked-into-boots look (even though these pants probably aren't jeans). And I wasn't really sure what to do with his boots (shoe design is an enigma to me), so I just took the belts from his gloves and put them on his boots to make them look a bit more interesting.

So yeah! That was my thought process for this design.

[secretaccountlol]

Love and bonnets.

BLACK READER X PETER PARKER.

+18 SMUT!!!

No summary this time just gotta read it yourself :3

Word count: 3898!

TW? : uhm hair?? Uh the L word?! (Love) this is a pretty sweet fic so..also typos I’m sorry!

Author note:..hey ..soo.. did yeah miss me? Lol. Okay yes I’m sorry that haven’t uploaded in…like 3 months. This was originally was made in FEBRUARY.. for black history month and Valentine’s Day..(lmao yes Ik)

So sorry, also if your wondering on your request I’m sorry and I haven’t forgotten about you!!! I have this thing where I need to finish one story first, so since I was stuck on this one.. i never could start the other ones. Anyways enjoy.

Your mouth emits a low groan as the god rays blind your eyes, as you sit up stretching tight limbs.

You rub your neck as you look down, “goddamnit!” You pick your bonnet off your bedsheets, you kick your covers off in a rage making quick steps to the bathroom mirror

You pout seeing your hair thrown around your head like you were attacked by a windstorm. Looks like it’s another hat day, knocking at the bathroom door makes you jump.

“Hey, you done in there?”

“I’m naked!”

“No. you’re not, your lotion is still on your counter and I know you like to moisturize right after the shower. So open up, pleaseeeee? I gotta pee!” Before he could knock again you swung the door open, Peter’s shocked face turns into an inquisitive one.

“Your-“

“Don’t-“

“Didn’t y-“

“Yes,” you bum shoulders as you barge through the small doorway of your shared bathroom.

“But you-“

“If you mention it you’re anti-black!” You pause your feet, swiveling back to face him, “Also- don’t look in my room, it’s creepy!” Your arms cross as you speak, quickly turning around, not awaiting an answer.

“Your door was wide open! I didn’t look on purpose! A-and I’m not creepy…” you hold your laughter as you hear Peter mutter, “I'm not creepy” again as he shuts the door. You hum to yourself as you scan over each hat in your room, picking up each one as you put it against your forehead.

“I think it’s better to try them on, then put them against your forehead.” Peter’s voice sends a shiver of embarrassment as you turn to him, your mouth open to speak,

“Here, try this.” Your eyes are covered for a moment, Peter shifts the beanie to restore your eyesight you stare at his grinning face before turning to face your mirror.

The beanie fits your head perfectly, snarky blue embroidered webs were splashed on it, with the cutest spidey head logo winking back at you, and holy shit,

silk lining inside?!

“Pete, this hat is absolutely…” Your hands reach up to brush your fingertips against the embroidery making sure you weren’t imagining the intricate stitches.

“What? Is it not comfortable? I ca-“

“ Absolutely, adorable! Is it mine to keep?” Your eyes shift to his face which is bathed in blush, a simple nod acts as your answer.

You giggle as you pick clothes to go with your new hat using your bed as a display, your head tilts to look at Peter who has returned to his rightful place on the doorframe.

“Lookin’ for something, hm?” Your hands play with the fabric of your clothes as you speak.

“Oh? I give you free shit and you wanna kick me out?” Peter’s head rested on the doorframe tilted as he smirked, he really didn’t know how handsome he was, did he? You bit your lip.

“Nooo! I’m not kicking you out and you know it, Pete.” You roll your eyes before turning towards him taking slow steps. “But I do have to change and I like you Pete but not enough to let you see me naked, not yet .” Your tongue peaked out behind your teeth as you spoke,

Your hands rest on the door as you slowly inch it closer and closer to Peter’s body, he doesn’t finch opting to stare at you instead, eyes scanning you head to toe. “Are you imagining me naked?” Your eyebrows raised as Peter’s eyes flicker to your lips then to your eyes.

“No..” Peter’s voice wasn’t very convincing, you scoff pushing him out of your door frame, “I’ll be out in a minute.” You shut the door in his face.

-

“Singles night is a go!” You burst into the room, a new outfit on your body. Peter’s head lolling back to look at you, “Cute outfit but it’s definitely not night, at least not yet.” You frown taking a seat next to him.

“No need to be such a Debby downer, just a name.”

“Mm, yeah a name that only makes partial sense” Peter hands you a bottled drink, you block it with your hand.

“Beer? No thanks-“

“Mm, not beer. Fruity liquor, what do you take me as? A frat boy?” Peter’s hand hit his chest fingers splayed

In a fake offense.

You giggle, taking the bottle from his other hand, Peter pops the cap off for you.

“Why aren’t you taking a fine lady out for Val Day, Petey? Definitely hot enough to get some.” You bump shoulders with him.

He hums before answering, his soft eyes falling onto yours, “I’d just..rather spend it with you.” You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

“Pete.. if you keep talkin’ like that I might take it the wrong way.” Take a sip of your drink, checking the label, 4.25% so it’s not the alcohol talking.

“What if I want you to take it the wrong way?” Peter’s eyes hung low as he inched closer, your hands clamping on his mouth as you shifted towards him as well.

“This is a very cruel prank for you to play, Mr.Parker.” Your words were just above a whisper as you moved your hand away, sticking out your tongue returning to your previous position.

“Wasn’t a prank..” Peter takes a sip of his drink as he turns away from you, also returning to his lax position.

“Anyways, weren’t we supposed to go somewhere today? Hence my need for the cutest hat ever !” Your head tilted to him as you looked up at your hat, god this hat was just so stellar.

“Mm, consider this a pregame I set the reservations

later today.” Peter’s voice was warm and smooth, like whiskey.

“Shit, reservations? I’m not dressed for a fancy place, oh no I gotta go change no-“

“No- you don’t, it’s not a fancy place. I just wanted to make sure we get a seat cus you know, day of love and all” Peter laughed, easing your nerves.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You fake hit him, he dodged a smirk playing on his lips.

“ I didn’t! You scared yourself like that!” His hands shot up in a defensive stand, you scowl.

“Ya yeah laugh it up..”

A comfortable silence falls between you and him, you shift trying to get comfortable again, feeling a bit cramped from sitting up straight. Peter lets out a soft sigh, patting his lap. You oblige his request, your hat shifts off your head, Peter gently pulls the rest off your head. You open your mouth to protest but before you can his hands start to massage your scalp, your eyes close as you let out a groan.

“Dude, that feels amazing..” you hummed snuggling closer to Pete’s torso as he scratched.

Your mind wanders as you drift off to sleep.

“Wash day? Like for clothes?” His eyebrows knitted together as he racked his brains for answers. “No, for my hair.” You paid him no mind as you grabbed all your hair products, plus a towel.

“Why a whole day? Can you not just wash in the shower and go?” Peter followed you into the kitchen he spoke watching you line up the bottles of hair products. Turning on the water, checking its temperature, and moving the dial to your liking.

“Cus, It's easier to wash it here and takes a long time. Plus, it’s what my mom always did. Of course, those days are over and now I have to wash my hair.. no spa treatment for me. “ you pout, wash days were a favorite growing up. Minus the pain of detangling, you loved the scalp massage, and the greasing of your scalp, just thinking about it made you miss home.

“I can do it for you.” Your eyes shot to Peter suspiciously.

“Do what for me?”

“I could wash your hair for you, I don’t mind.”

“Peter..-“

“Seriously! Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I'm a very quick learner, plus.. I uhm.. really like your hair. “

You smile softly at Peter’s confession, “You like my hair?” Peter gives you an exaggerated nod, “I like how soft it is.. and how shiny it gets.. I just- really interested in it? I hope that’s not weird.” He puts his hands up before scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s not! I’m just surprised you noticed.”

“I always ..notice you..”

You bit your lip, “Uhm, well. Here I’ll show you what to do.”

You never thought you’d enjoy walking someone else through the process of doing your hair. It was actually relaxing too, Peter’s hands were way gentler than your mom's so that helped too.

Since that day you would occasionally catch him watching videos about black hair, or reading an article on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Hey, can I try something?” Peter breaks out randomly as you both sit in the common space.

“Depends? What’s up buttercup?”

“Well, uhm. So, I’ve been doing some research.”

“Ooh, research? On?”

“Well, your hair.. and I-..wanted to try to do a different style.. if you’d let me..?” Peter’s voice squeaked, you watched as he physically cringed, you giggled at his dismay.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun.”

“Seriously??” Peter’s bright eyes stared at you with wonder.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

Thus began the weekly hair appointments with Peter the stylist. He tried anything and everything natural, Bantu knots, box braids, cornrows, and twists! Nothing was too much for him.

“Why can’t I do your hair for our dat-uh..hang out for Valentine’s Day?” Peter’s arms were folded as he pouted, standing between the doorway trapping you.

“Mm, because you’ve been spoiling too much! I practically don’t remember how to do my own hair. Plus, I want my hair to be a surprise and add to the excitement!” You grin.

“You’re plenty exciting on your own for me.”

“Whatever- now move!” You push through him.

“Hey..”

You groan, your eyes squinting.

“Hey, wake up-“

You whine as someone shakes you gently, your eyes flutter open to Peter’s brown hair and soft eyes.

“Hey, sleepy head.”

Your subdued smile playing on your lips, “Mornin”

Your hand reaches up, caressing his cheek. Your smile splits into a grin as he leans to your touch.

“I got something to show you.” His hand lays over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I gotta get up to get it.”

“Mm- nooo,” you frown.

“I know but I’ll be quick, promise”

“Okaay” you lift, watching Peter walk to his room. You draw your knees close to your chest as you wait for Peter to return.

Your eyes light up when you see a small box with a bow tied neatly around it in Peter’s hands.

“It’s- it’s not much so”

“I don’t care! A gift is a gift, the only thing is you’ve given me two things today and I haven’t even gotten you one thing..” you sulked as he sat in front of you.

“No worries, I didn’t want you to anyways.” His hands extend the box out to you, your fingers graze him as you take it, and goosebumps formed on your arm from the light touch. He sits on the floor in front of you closely watching your reaction.

Your hands shake slightly as you undo the ribbon, opening the box carefully.

A piece of fabric was neatly folded in the box, your curiosity grows as you pick it out of the box, unfolding it gingerly.

A bonnet. He’d gotten you a bonnet, you turn in your hands a few times.

A bonnet with hearts on it-

Wait-

A bonnet that had the cutest collages of you and him printed on the hearts, your fingers trace over both of your smiling faces.

You turn the bonnet in your hands, noticing more little details. Your birthday and name sewn on the side in your favorite color, an adjustable satin strap to keep your bonnet from slipping, and to top it all off the same cute Spider-Man logo that was on your beanie he gave you earlier.

“Peter..”

“You like it?” He grinned.

“Awe I love it!!” You crash on top of him, squeezing the life out of him as you squeal.

“I don’t know who you commissioned but jeez you must have paid a shit ton for such awesome craftsmanship!”

“Actually..I sewed it myself.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “Are you serious, Pete?”

He nods as heat rises to his cheeks, “ I wanted it-.. to be special, custom. So I ..made it myself.” His eyes glanced away from you bashfully, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. You lift his chin, your fingers stroking his jaw, “Thank you so much, this.. means a lot .” Your voice was just above a whisper.

His eyes lock onto yours, his hands on your waist. For the first time, you're keenly aware of how your bodies are touching. Your legs basically wrapped around his waist, your crotch painfully closed to his, your chest pressing lightly against his.

“Can I show a bit of my appreciation?” You feel like you’ve been running a marathon, breathless as you spoke.

“Yeah..yeah I’d like that..” Peter’s eyes flickered to your lips then back to your eyes half-lidded.

Your lips graze his before you both take the plunge. Soft lips collide, your hands travel up to his hair tracing circles.

A satisfying pop rings through both of your ears as you separate, your forehead bumps against him as you stare into each other's eyes.

“I got something to show you, wanna see?” You mimic his words from earlier.

“Yeah,” he mimics you back.

“But I gotta.. get up to show you” You bit your lip, grinning at your little joke.

“Nooo” Peter laughs, pulling you closer.

“It’s either that or you carry me to my room, silly”

Peter shrugs, “okay”

“I’m jokin-“

Peter’s nose bumps yours as he lifts you, your hands are clutching his shirt in an instant, “Peter-!”

“What? You said to carry you..”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Let alone be strong enough!”

“Please you’re like a paper towel in my hands” he kisses your nose, “These muscles aren’t for nothing.”

“What muscles?” You stick out your tongue, giggling.

“Hey! I can still drop you, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I know you won’t.” You press a quick kiss to his cheeks as he gently lets go of your legs.

“What did you wanna show me?”

You grin, skipping over to your bed.

“This.”

“This?” Peter cocks an eyebrow.

“Know what this is?”

“I do.”

You sit down on your bed, “it’s a bed.”

“It is indeed.”

“Mm, do you know what we do on beds?”

“Sleep?”

You motion for him to come closer to you, he obliges by nestling himself between your legs, he towers over you making you crane your neck upwards. Normally this would be terrifying but with him. He looked like an Angel with the lights shining behind him.

“They also have sex.” You bat your eyelashes, you can make out the outline of his face as you speak but not his expression.

“Do you want..to do that?”

“Do what, Pete?”

“D-..do you want to have sex..?”

“Mm, Peter you’re so forward!” You teased, your hands toyed with his belt.

“May I?”

“Please” his voice cracked, desperate for your touch, for you.

Your soft hands undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans letting gravity help you pull the pants to the floor. Your hands trace his boner through his underwear, palm the head, squeezing softly earning a soft groan. Your hands travel to his waistband, tugging it down slowly like a prize being revealed.

You pump once, Peter's hips jerk forward “Your hands a-are so soft..- sorry.

“No worries, Peter, I enjoy knowing you like my hands. I wonder how much you’ll like my mouth?” You line up your mouth to the tip of his cock, planting a kiss.

“Wait-“ Pete’s hands wrap around yours, “I’m afraid I’ll -..cum if you go any further....-“

“Oh? That sensitive..?” Your eyes flutter, head tilting in question.

Peter's hand covers his mouth as he glances away from you, “On-only because it’s you..and I don't want to be the only one naked..-if that’s okay with you of course.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, “I’m okay with that..”

You shift up the bed to make room for him, Peter’s leg finds a place between your thighs planting soft lips against yours. Hands trickling down to your breast, “Can I?” His eyes were like saucers as he stared into your eyes as you nodded yes.

He lifts your shirt gently, pulling it over your head. His hands grasp your waist giving you a gentle squeeze before helping you wiggle out of your pants. His hands hover over your bra, “Are you okay?” You run your fingers through his hair breaking his trace.

“I..I’m okay, you’re just beautiful.” Peter’s hand soft cups your breast as he stares at you, your lips let his name slip through.

His thumbs slide into your underwear, pulling back and snapping your waistband making you both giggle.

“Whatcha doing down there?”

“Taking my time with someone I love..” He bites his lips, with those big brown eyes that you adore.

You guide his hands back to your underwear, letting them grip your sides, “Well, that someone wants you to fuck them.. so I insist you continue.”

“Well if you insist..”

His fingers hook onto your underwear sliding them down your legs, you giggle as you kick them off once they get to your ankles.

“I swear I just saw your dick grow a few inches…”

“Mm, probably because I’m lookin’ at the most beautiful person in the world.” Peter’s hands prop himself over you as you up at him, stealing a kiss from his smiling lips.

Your hands trace down his chest as Peter leans in for more kisses, his lips move to leave delicately placing nibbles down your neck and collarbone. Nibbles turn into hickies as his mouth gets closer to your breast, his hands fondle your left breast before kissing the nipple of your right breast.

“You’re so warm and soft..” Peter mumbles, flicking your nipples with his tongue.

“It’s probably cocoa butter..” you bite your lip as you stare at him,

“Is that why you taste so great too?” Peter grins kissing your tits again before letting his tongue drag all the way down to pussy.

“Is that.. a chocolate joke, p-peter.”

“Nope, but feel free to grill me about it later.” Peter’s hands slide down to your hips, forcing your hips up slightly to meet his mouth.

He presses a kiss against your clit, sending pleasure through your body.

“Pete-“

“Shh- I got you.” His thumb gently presses against your pearl as his tongue dragged down, his eyes low as his tongue wiggled its way into your hole.

“Ohh, Pete..!” your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at the soft locks of curls.

Peter hums in approval, tongue probing deeper into your folds, his hand slides to your pussy, his thumb strokes your clit with a warm touch.

His palm pressed against your stomach softly to keep you from bucking up as he eats you out.

Your fingers yank at his hair as he strokes your pearl faster, earning a gasp from Peter, his eyes connecting with yours, a small smile playing on his lips as he makes his way back up to your face, fingers still playing with your clit.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Fuck, yes.. I- need you inside of me..” You press a kiss at the corner of his mouth, tasting a bit of yourself on your lips.

Peter smiles as he dips down to capture your lips, as hips lined up with yours, replacing his hand with his dick letting it press against you.

“Condom?”

“Bedside drawer.”

Peter pulls out a condom from your stash, flashing it toward you while grinning.

“Naughty..”

You bite your lip in response, “Wouldn’t you rather me be prepared? “

“Yeah, otherwise I’d be running like a madman to my room to find one.” Peter’s brown hair flopped around as he spoke, hovering over you before pressing his lips against yours.

You hum as you feel his cock pressing against your hole, he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks his cock into you.

Muffled moans are exchanged as your tongues clashed with each other.

“You feel amazing.” Peter’s lips nipped at his neck as he thrust slowly, “This okay?” He flashed his baby brown eyes at you.

“Y-Yea I’m okay, you’re just.. a little big.” A whimper slips through as you speak, “Shit, Peter..you’re filling me so- so well....” you squirm, squeezing down on his cock eliciting a muffled moan from his lips.

“Holy shit- that felt amazing please do that again, squeeze me again.” His hips thrust forward, your head throws back, squeezing him simultaneously in response.

“Peter..!” Your hands rake down his chest as he fucked you into the plush bed.

“Fuck, s-say my name again, please- I need I-it.” He grip your hips in a bruising he slams into you, you hummed his name out in chants as he pumped in and out of you.

“You’re so beautiful” his left hand slip up into your hair massaging the roots as his lips graced your skin, his thumb stroking circles into your skin, “Peter- I’m- “

Your back arched from his continuous touches, his hand pressed on your belly making your head loll back in pleasure.

“Oh god- shitshitshit. Right there-!Sosos good- “ your mouth drooled as his pace quickened, “I’m comin’-“

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. I’m- “

Peter’s hands grip your waist as lifting your ass off the bed, ” I’m- gonna cum..!”

“I-I’ve wanted to do this for so so long-“

Your body goes limp as he fucks you through your high, “I love you- fuck I love you so much..!” Peter’s cock swells inside of you uttering more confessions as he cums, until his pace dwindles into small nudges.

His nimble fingers trace your hips before, reaching to engulf you in a tight embrace.

“That..was really really good.”

“It was..”

You both pause, it’s a comfortable silence.

“Did you mean ..that? When you said you loved me?”

Peter’s head which was in the crook of your neck moves to hover just above yours.

“Of course, I meant that.” His hands caressed your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I really do love you, if.. that’s okay?” He rubs the back of his neck, looking away slightly.

“Of course, that’s okay, Peter. Cus I..love you too.”

You could feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, as Peter’s eyes connected to yours in surprise.

“You do?”

“I do.”

His lips are instantly on yours sucking away your breath, you both pull back when you hear his phone make little chimes.

“I swear if it’s a spam call-“ his lips never stop kissing yours as he speaks, making you giggle.

“Sh- that’s the alert for our reservation!!”

“Wait- what?”

Both of you shoot up immediately, hopping on various clothing.

“Are we even gonna make it on time?”

Peter pauses for a second, “Mm, maybe if we swing there..?” His voice cracks a bit, making your lips split into a grin.

“I’m feelin’ adventurous today, why not?”

[realclemhours]

Disclaimer‼️ I am not a professional designer in anyway. These are just my opinions and if you like the original designs that is a-okay and more power to you!

So I found out about the Hundred Line Defense Academy from a repost tweet and checked it out only to find that most of the designs are alright… well except for two. Two of the designs we’ve seen so far were either so bad or so awkward that I felt the urge to redesign them complete with design comments.

Closeups + extra comments + earlier outfits I was struggling with under the cut ✨

Darumi’s original design is the one I actually outright hate. There’s just too much going on (the blue hair that awkwardly goes from black to blue at the top, the bows, the weird face tattoos, the striped sweater with bright red patches randomly thrown on, and the random pins??)

Plus the colors are just an eye sore (bright light blue, bright pink for the eyes, dark blue for the sweater, and strong red for chocked and patches????)

She also gives me vibes of being made in a test tube to be the fan favorite

Not only that but we have only seen two lines of dialogue from her we’ve seen (as of making this post) are just like- groan worthy

I went with the black with bright colors to try and make the whole “bright” colors thing work without making it as much of an eyesore

Anyways I feel like I strayed too far from the original in my redesign. I could’ve stuck to the blue color scheme a bit more instead of making her mostly black and pink. Oh well, it is what it is. I at least improved the colors a bit and still made the design fit her personality which is what matters

Kako’s original design is better to me than Darumi’s. It’s more awkward that outright bad

Again, the colors are a bit weird, but unlike Darumi’s original colors, the original colors could work. Light lilac, crimson red, navy, and white could work. The problem is the placing. By making Kako’s hair light lilac and uniform crimson red, that makes her mostly liliac and red which classes a lot. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the red uniform because it stands out so much instead of her face

However, unlike Darumi, another complaint I have is that Kako just looks like two Danganronpa characters smashed together (which is a fair complaint in my opinion because Kodaka made Kako AND Danganronpa and it’s in the same art style). She has a light lilac hair and purple eyes, which makes her look like Kyoko Kirigiri and a VERY similar outfit to Maki Harukawa (there’s a few differences like how Maki has a white bow with tiny red dots, a striped collar, and infinity pin and how Kako’s uniform is a dress and Maki’s is a shirt and skirt). Like at the very least they could have changed the uniform colors and eye colors

It took me until finishing Kako’s ref up to realize this, but the mini buns and extra strands of hair could work because they are kinda similar to Sailor Moon, and I dig her design. Though Kako’s hair is still off to me despite that for a reason I can’t pin down

Anyways I ended up making my redesign closer to her original design because her original design wasn’t as bad as Darumi’s and because I felt like I needed to balance things out since I made Darumi too far from the original I think

Alright that’s all I got commentary wise. Here’s some work in progress stuff for outfits that I ended up not going with

Hope this was a fun read through, for those interested

[fantasticalchaos]

The First Thronecoming

Chapter 2: Listen Up Everyone!

Summary: A dorm leader meeting is held on the day that Thronecoming will be announced! Meeting entails a short, but personal presentation and run-down of what Thronecoming is and what to basically expect. [Crossposted on AO3, Inspired by Sayuri’s TWST x EAH and LovelyLlama’s Thronecoming Headcanons]

A/N: Part 2 of 4 of crosspoting my work to Tumblr! Made some quick changes and added a few more lines before posting. Brooke Page also visits here in this chapter! Brooke uses these brackets - {} - when she speaks! {Like this! Hello Readers! 👋😄}

⬅️ Ch. 1 | AO3 | Ch. 3 ➡️

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Days flew by since the initiation of Project Thronecoming. The event committee worked hours on end on what needed to be done. Not to mention all the work they did to flip the script on some old Thronecoming traditions and Briar’s original plans for it. Rough drafts ran around on how to present to the headmaster, and later the students. Don’t even get me started on the budgeting!

{But it was worth it in the end right? Just like you said; Headmaster Crowley and the rest of the staff approved it without a hitch!}

Heh, true Brooke! Now this story really got up and going!

Nevertheless, today is the day that Thronecoming will be announced! But not without a forewarning to the dorm leaders first. Considering this is a new fun school holiday for all students, both old and new, there’s gonna be a lot of chaos! As per request from the committee, Crowley granted them an audience with Maddie and Briar as volunteers.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

[Location: Mirror Chamber.]

{And that’s how we got here today! The mysterious, and glamorous Mirror Chamber. Rose-gold lights that illuminate the gothic room. Dark coffins with gold accents dancing in the air to their own beat. Basking in the beauty of the room lies Headmaster Crowley and the dorm leaders. All were standing in a semicircle with Crowley on the opposite side.}

“Everyone is here, Headmaster!” Riddle announces out loud. Crossing his arms over the black jacket of his school uniform. “Just like you promised.”

Thanking Riddle, Headmaster Crowley excuses himself; He goes out into the hallway to fetch Maddie and Briar. Thus, left the dorm leaders of Night Raven in a single room to themselves. Just for a moment.

Actually– Brooke, since you’re here for a bit, can you double check if all the dorm leaders are here?

{Oh, sure! Alright, let me see…

As usual: Riddle, Azul, and Vil are right on time! As hexpected for these people. So that’s 3 down!

Leona’s awake and present too! Still a little grumpy that he dragged himself from his nap over to the meeting.

Kalim and Yuu are busy chatting. It seems those two met while heading here.

Idia is here too, sorta. Looks like brought his blue tablet in place of himself for the meeting today. In reality, he’s in his room right now. Guess he’s got a spare or something?

Oh, and would you look at that: Malleus here too! Hexcellent!}

“Well would ya look at that; Even the Lizard is here on time.” Leona added, gesturing to the man with curved horns. His face remains even, yet the eyes narrowed. “How unlike him!”

Malleus mirrored the glaring beast-man. Eyes darted over to the beastman. He pouted.

“I’m well aware of that, Kingscholar. Is there a problem with my surprise attendance?”

Before Leona could fire back a retort, The Ramshackle prefect intervenes. Despite the calm smile on their face, there is a small bead of sweat sliding down.

“I’m glad you made it on time, Tsunotaro!” Yuu smiles at Malleus, both as a welcome to their horned friend and to prevent any possible argument between the two princes. The dragon fae’s eyes shone down on their human friend.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Child Of Man.” A smile graces his lips, overtaking the passive-aggression earlier. Leona, on the other hand, just shakes his head and sighs.

Argument averted! Much to everyone’s relief.

“It’s true though,” Riddle mentions, resting a hand on his shoulder as he pondered. Choosing his next words carefully, he added with a small smile. “It's quite rare I see you come on time for a dorm meeting, Malleus. It’s quite nice.”

“Yeah!” Kalim blurts out, “I thought you weren’t gonna make it this time! What happened?”

“KALIM!!!”

Vil and Riddle stressed their voices at the Scarabia dorm leader. Kalim, rubs the back of his neck as he apologizes for his forwardnesses. Surprisingly, Malleus shakes his head and chuckles lightly.

“Earlier today, Faybelle asked me to help her and Briar bring a few pieces of equipment here.” Malleus answers. His green eyes sparkled as he reminisce. “I suggested that we could simply use our magic to teleport it. However, the girls insisted I come with them; that we would carry just a few simple pieces over to the Mirror Chamber. Plus, Briar said that she’ll take care of cleaning it up afterwards.”

“Ah! So, you helped your distant cousins without knowing that the meeting was today!” Kalim pointed out, jumping a little forward to his senior before backpedaling. Malleus and his distant cousins, Fayebelle and Briar, all together with the equipment for today! He closed his eyes and grinned at the thought. “That’s so thoughtful of them!”

“I second this!” Azul nodded promptly. He then looks aside, and whispers quietly on Malleus’s commentary. “It was like a calculated precaution to ensure his attendance. Thoughtful… yet very clever.”

While the discussion goes on, Vil’s eyes trailed over to the only piece of equipment in the room Malleus was talking about. From the strange fall blob of the shape, supported by a long black beam with wheels as the it’s bottom. If Vil didn’t know any better, it’s a mannequin. Additionally, a blush pink blanket draped over it until the bottom. A big contrast to the room filled with violet and black.

“Surely this meeting today wouldn’t be too much.” Vil spoke, pondering with his arms crossed. “It’s rather sudden; Classes are still in session.”

Outside of education matters - which is equally important - it was the meeting that concerned Vil. Just a tiny bit! Not that it’s unnatural for Vil! Vil is used to sudden changes and meetings, considering his history as an actor. Simply it’s because there was absolutely no context from Crowley on what the subject matter for the meeting was. “It’s a surprise fufufu~” was all that was said.

“As much as I agree with your concerns, Vil,” Riddle started, sighing. He looks over to Vil with resoluteness in his eyes. “Maddie assured me that it won’t take long. You can take her word for it.”

“It better be.” Idia’s voice came out through his floating tablet. Not a second later, the doors flung wide open. The headmaster strides in, with Maddie and Briar following behind him.

“Alright! Listen up everyone!” Headmaster Crowley taps his staff on the ground, grabbing everyone’s attention. “We have a very important meeting about a surprise announcement coming later today!”

A round of confusion appears on the dorm leaders. How visible their confusion was varied from each leader. Some were more pronounced, with a few whispering amongst each other. The rest were more subtle, holding their tongue until more information came on.

Noticing this, Crowley’s head faces Briar and Maddie.

“Are you two ready to present your upcoming project for the whole dorm?”

The girls nodded. With that, Crowley gives a quick bow as the girls walk up. It’s Briar and Maddie’s floor now!

“For the past few days,” Briar started. “The event committee were thinking of ways to liven up the mood from previous events.”

{You’re telling me! I don’t even want to remember that right now…}

It’s okay Brooke, you did all that you could. Do you need a quick hug?

{Yes… Thank you.}

“We had other ideas… but we all couldn't agree on a single thing!”

“It was just then someone asked what we did back when we were at Ever After High!” Maddie joins in. “That was the starting point of our wonder-iffic idea that we made to present to Crowley! He didn’t think twice of the concept!”

“Ms. Hatter is right!” The Headmaster said, swinging an arm. He places one of his jeweled talons on the top of his shimmering black vest. “After the girls finished their presentation, I immediately felt moved! All the staff to see it! After a few moments of consideration, we all agreed that this project the event committee made is suitable for everyone to participate in.”

“Besides, as your generous and kind Headmaster, it’s best for me to allow my gracious students to have some time off and enjoy yourselves!”

“Man, that must be one big event that could rival my parties!” Kalim pumps his arms up and down, “I can’t wait for it to come!”

“What is it exactly?” Yuu dropped the question.

“So– back at Ever After High,” Briar recounted, “Everyone had been bustling around to get ready for Thronecoming! It happens a few months after Legacy Day.”

“It consists of getting gifts from our parents that formerly attended Ever After High. Next there is the float-building and a Bookball tournament! Lastly, there is a big party at night where everybody dresses up and dances the night away! There’s also nominees voted to become the Thronecoming King and Queen!”

“Oh, so it’s basically homecoming with a few mixes of prom.” Yuu nodded along, relating the given information to what they knew. Being the only other human from another universe, along with being magic-less, the Prefect had little to work with. So, resorting to any connections that reminded Yuu of their old home helps. “I heard a lot about it back in my world.”

As the words slipped from Yuu’s mouth, warm smiles from Briar and Maddie came. Returning the sentiment, Yuu shoots one back.

“Briar was originally supposed to be holding this year’s Thronecoming in our world.” Maddie explained, gesturing to her partner. “Since we now attend this school, the event committee decided to throw one here!”

“Although, we had to make a tiny bit of changes to Briar’s original plan.”

Maddie inches her fingers close together, but not enough for the pointer and thumb to touch. Closing one eye, Maddie looks through them. It’s as if she is looking through a window. And through that “window,” she could see their audience - the dorm leaders watching intently.

“What kind of changes?” Vil inquires, a hint of curiosity within the short, direct question.

“Well for starters– we had to cut out the tournaments, since there’s already a lot of games this month!” Maddie answers. “We also have to cancel the float-building to fit within our project budget. Don’t worry though, because we’re hoping we’ll visit that idea again! Maybe sometime in the spring!! It sounds too fun to leave it out!”

{Awww, I’ve never seen Kalim beam that excitedly before! The jingles of his earrings as he dances his fists up and down. Plastered with the biggest grin that would would hurt his cheeks; he couldn’t wait for springtime to arrive!}

“Speaking of,” Briar brings out a body mannequin behind her. Tugging at the blanket lightly, Briar says, “Me, Maddie, and some of the others had our dresses commissioned ahead of time! That way, we all have outfits while saving most of our money and time prepping the event!”

“For instance, here’s mine!”

Unveiling the mannequin in a single whoosh, lies it wearing her Thronecoming dress. It’s a hot pink sleeveless top with a dusty pink and white bottom that reaches up to the knees. A hot pink sheer fabric skirt hangs above the blackthorn pattern at the bottom of the dress.

Everyone is left awestruck at the dress, coming closer to gaze at its impressive details. Some awed loudly with stars in their eyes. Others admired quietly on the side.

“Woah!” Kalim’s eyes shined like stars as he gazed admiringly at Briar’s dress. He clasped his hands as his head spun towards Briar. “Briar, this dress of yours looks so beautiful!”

“It looks like it came from a popular dress-up game brought to life!” Idia chuckled slightly at a reference he made the others wouldn’t get. Well maybe a few…

“Indeed, the details of this dress are high-quality and give off a sense of modernity and elegance.” Vil stares with a faint smile on his face. Strutting around the dressed mannequin with his eyes still on the outfit before him, he added. “This dress truly represents Briar’s personality in its entirety!”

Vil gestures his hand from top to bottom.

“From the knee-length size to represent her active and adventurous lifestyle.”

He circled around one last time.

“To the dark thorns that contrast with the bright and bold colours represent your story and dynamic personality. The list goes on.”

Vil’s hand then rested at the bottom of his chin to continue admiring the beauty of the dress and its meaning. His eyes stayed focused on it to the point he didn’t notice the other nods from the other leaders.

“It’s beautiful, Briar! And I’m sure for yours as well, Maddie!” Yuu grinned as they looked at Briar and Maddie. Their eyes bounced back at Briar’s gown. A thought sparked through Yuu’s mind as their smile fell. They then brought back their gaze to the fellow first-years and asked, “Are we all supposed to wear something as extravagant as this for Thronecoming?”

“I agree with this Herbivore, here!” Leona’s voice boomed as he came from behind Yuu, startling the poor Ramshackle leader. He turns his head to Briar. “It’s nice, Briar. Though, I’m not too hung up on the whole dress to impress.”

“Don’t worry!” Crowley interjected, jumping in immediately to the group huddled around the mannequin. He cleared his throat and continued. “As your kind and generous headmaster, and from the event committee, I- er- we forbid the strict dress code formally enforced at Ever After High!”

“You’re allowed to wear whatever you please as long as you’re all enjoying yourselves!”

“Thank goodness!” Leona replied with no shame, making a sigh of relief after hearing this information. Yuu and Idia did the same but quieter.

“Yeah, I know right?” Briar tuned in as she went near her dress. She rested her right arm on the shoulder of the mannequin. “That’s why I’m only just showing you guys so at least you can expect my personal choice to dress for Thronecoming! I mean, this is literally half of my outfit for the dance!”

“Indeed,” Malleus spoke with a small smile as he crossed his arms. “Back in Diasomnia, Briar wore her whole ensemble for her rehearsal presentation.”

“WHAT?!?!”

The Hall of Mirrors were pretty lucky that no matter how high the sheer volume was at that moment, it was enough for it to break. Great Seven, my eardrums…

{You can say that again! Oh my fairy godmother!!}

“She already showed it to you, Tsunotaro?!” Yuu stammered as they brought their head immediately to Briar and Maddie, who nodded. Maddie grinned with a knowing look to Malleus and Briar. Whereas Briar’s smile was more awkward and averted her gaze for a brief second.

“Correct, she and Maddie rehearsed their presentation at Diasomnia a few days before this meeting.” The fae confirmed with the curves of his smile into a proud smirk. He closed his eyes as he remembered the rehearsal. Diasomnia having their eyes open at the idea of Thronecoming, its history and customs. And the dress portion, that became a fashion show. The details and beauty of this Thronecoming has become a memory for him and the others. Both now and in the future when the event comes. “All of Diasomnia were impressed with it! You should have seen it! Even, Faybelle and a few other members showed us their outfits as well.”

As he gradually opened his eyes again to the other bewildered dorm leaders. A flicker of mischief akin to a child who’s holding a little secret flashed through his eyes. Malleus announced with great anticipation.

“I cannot wait for you all to see them when Thronecoming comes close!”

Leona grumbled to himself. He looked away from Malleus with a scowl growing on his face. “Someone sure is proud of themselves.”

To his annoyance, the dragon fae smirks even more.

“Damn right,” In his room, Idia chews his thumb and narrows his eyes brimming with jealousy. “Malleus got the whole beta tester experience!! Lucky!”

“And that concludes our presentation!” Briar and Maddie finished in unison. The girls held hands and took a quick bow, followed by applause from everybody.

“Oh! And don’t forget to calm down the chaos when you tell your dorm about this!” Maddie added as pops back up. She tilts her head with a light giggle. “Well, except for Diasomnia, of course!”

Yuu exhaled a deep sigh as they pinched the bridge of their nose.

“I don’t think I will have to tell them.” Yuu blurted out their thoughts as their shoulders slumped a little and let go of the hand on their nose. “My dorm will already know by the time I arrive.”

And to be fair, they’d be right! Minus the ghosts and the mouse haunting the dorm, Yuu and Grim are the only original members when they first came before the rediscovery of Ever After. Naturally, this singles them both out to the majority of the EAH transfers. And that Yuu and Grim will be out of touch from the culture of their classmates. Not a problem though; Learning is always an option! A wonderful option that will always be happily taken!

“Wonderful everyone! Absolutely beautiful!” Crowley clasped his hands together with a smile. He brings up a finger and wipes a tear from his mask. “My students are going to be incredibly excited and interested by this news!”

A few more sniffles from the headmaster came by. In an instant, he quickly perks back up! Glowing as if he wasn’t (or at least to be) crying. To no one’s surprise…

He brought out a small, chained pocket watch from one of his pockets. Cracking its lid open, he takes a moment to check the time. Crowley then closes and returns the watch back to his pocket, and clears his throat.

“Now, before you can all leave: do any of my kind students have any questions about Thronecoming?”

“Are you gonna answer them?” Yuu asked, pointing an accusing finger at them. Crowley gasped dramatically, as if Yuu had something offensive. Like a child swearing in front of their parents. The crow-man began scolding Yuu as the latter rolled their eyes.

As the two squabble, the rest of the students did their own things. Leona, Malleus, Vil, and Riddle left the Hall of Mirrors early. Either to head over to lunch, a place to chill during the break, or to their previous class for today’s notes.

Maddie left early as well, saying that she - along with a few other club members - will be putting up flyers. Some were for just the general promotions and their information. Others were for signing up for running for Thronecoming King or Queen.

So, the only ones left the room to talk were Yuu, Crowley, Briar, and Azu—

“Do we have to attend this in-game event? Like physically?”

Briar whips her head at the sudden voice. Azul, one of the people she was talking to, also looks behind her. There stood the floating blue tablet on her right. Ah, Idia! Briar never saw Ignihyde’s dorm leader in person outside of a few occasions. Even then, Idia didn’t talk or associate himself with others much. Exceptions aside, he’s the dorm leader Briar has the least connection with. Given the chances of this interaction from happening again though, it’s better to make the most of it!

“Of course, duh!” Briar answers, turning away back to the dress form. She throws over the light pink cover on it. “It’s a party, everyone’s invited to come!”

As Briar turned back around, the sound icon was turned off. She arched an eyebrow on the sudden silence. She glances over to others, who simply shrugged.

“Idia?”

No response came from the levitating device.

“Idia, you’re muted.”

Again, no response.

“I doubt he muted on purpose.” Azul points out.

“You think?”

{If you hadn’t guessed by now, Idia’s panicking in his room… I’ll go hookup Idia’s emotional support chat with Ortho or any of his friends. Let’s see…}

“Idia? Briar is talking to you, it’s rude to leave someone on read.”

The sound unmutes.

“Idia?”

“I’m fine!” Idia’s voice hurried over the device. “I’m okay!”

{Nope. He’s not.}

“Are you su—”

“YES!”

He really isn’t.

RING! RING!! RING!!!

Before Azul or Briar could say anything more, the blue device zooms past them and into the hallway.

FWOOSH!!!

The swift stream of wind from the speed had the remaining people in the room jump.

“K!TYSEEYOULATERBYEEEEEE–”

Everyone’s eyes leaned over and peek out the door the tablet left. Several screams and gasps were heard the further Idia got away. Eventually, the remaining people trickled out and headed to lunch.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

In some other part of the hallway, much less crowded and free from a particular tablet’s speedway, is Madeline Hatter. In one arm, is a stack of posters. Slowing down from her skipping, Maddie plasters a poster for Thronecoming on the wall.

Wait, where the hell did she get those? She didn’t had them in the meeting…

”Maddie!” a cheery voice calls out from behind.

Maddie turns her back over to the voice. There, one of the leaders, sprinting over to her. A young man, with a white and yellow turban-like headband to be exact.

“Maddie!” Kalim called out once to his under-classmate as he ran up to her, successfully grabbing her attention away. Kalim stopped in his tracks and pants.

“Hi Kalim!” Maddie greeted her classmate and friend. As the latter catches his breath and straightens back up, Maddie asks, “Something you need?”

“Ah! Yes!” Kalim realizes. “Maddie, is there any way that I can apply to run for the Thronecoming King? Sorry, I forgot to ask earlier!”

Kalim tilted his head, and his golden earrings jingled. He beamed a smile, “I want to join in on the fun too!”

“Hat-tastic!” Maddie jumped for joy with Kalim. “I’m so glad you asked! I’m in on it too! The more the merrier as they say!”

Maddie took off her little top hat. Her left hand dove in and scoured the insides of it. She lifts her hand back out, but not without her Mirror-Pad suddenly appearing too. (Ahh, that’s where she got the posters…). Kalim’s ruby eyes twinkled as Maddie placed her hat right back on her head and turned on her device.

The two spent a few moments with creating candidate profiles.

“You know Kalim, You’re the first outside of Diasomnia to join in on the nominations! Of course, outside of me and a few others!”

“Really?! That’s awesome! I can’t wait to see who the rest of the candidates are!”

“Anyways, I gotta go head back,” Kalim ushers a thumb back as he begins to run again. “Jamil’s gonna come looking for me if I don’t come to lunch after today’s meeting!”

Kalim sprints off.

“Thanks Maddie! See you around!”

”Bye Kalim!” Maddie waves her hand to her friend as he rounds a corridor. Her eyes bolted to the roof as Brooke spoke.

{Don’t worry Maddie, he’ll be back there quick, safe and sound!}

“I know you can Brooke!” She reassured her. Bringing up the rest of the posters to her attention, all colourful and distinct from one another. Picking up another flyer from the stack, Maddie says, “Now! Back to setting up these posters!”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

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[siryouarebeingmocked]

Someone recently claimed that the new Davies era of doctor who has no more wokism* than the show used to.

Now, maybe I've just changed in the past few decades, but from what I've heard of the 60th anniversary specials it does seem a tad more concentrated. Cherry-picking SPOILERS, sweeties.

- Donna got married offscreen. To what I can only assume is the last black cab driver in London.

- Her kid is trans. Specifically, non-binary, female presenting, says the wiki.** - In the next episode, we learn the Doctor is gay/bi when he thinks Sir Isaac Newton is hot. I'd smugly say this bit has no real relevance, but...the actual scene does carry the episode theme of accidentally changing reality. It's just the queer bit that seems tacked on. Though it does carry forward themes from 10s era. - Sir Zack himself is played by a half-Indian actor. It's not exactly hard to tell. I'm assuming they're running on Bridgerton logic. https://twitter.com/frozenaesthetic/status/1731332492282429950 - This episode is basically just Donna and the Doc exploring a weird location, and running into monsters, who happen to look like them. It would be a bottle episode, except for the large vfx budget. And yet ol' Rusty somehow managed to awkwardly wedge in an  progressive issue. - In the next episode, the villain explains how he's just exploiting the divisions that already exist in human society, including cancel culture. - no wait he's got a point. Jpg - This is ironic, given that Davies and/or his broadcasting house masters are pretty blatantly on the team that a) coined the word,  b) cancels people the most often, and c) defends the idea of Internet lynch mobs*** (***as long as they're left wing. If not, they're *ist "trolls", even if they're just complaining about the latest sacred cow.) Maybe the Davies was criticizing his own team. * Because the Toymaker was kind of racist back in the day (white dude dressed like a stereotypical Chinese dude), Davies made the new version a bit racist "as a callback to his original, problematic depiction back in 1966." - TVtropes, ref. DW Unleashed. On the other hand, the Toymaker also mocks and dresses as several other cultural archetypes. All the ones I've seen were white European ones. He just does this to everyone, apparently. - Toymaker also weaponizes the Spice Girls hit "Spice Up Your Life". No, I will not explain. Though I will note that a line about the "Yellow man in Timbuktu" was apparently drowned out in the episode. Probably for being a tad spicy. - One new UNIT character is a lady in a wheelchair. When the new Tardis - no, I will not explain - has a wheelchair ramp, she happily points it out. Which makes me wonder why the blue box would be so limited, considering it often deals with alien species. - Also, the same actress played a disabled Companion in the Big Finish audio dramas. I'm not sure why it was considered essential to do so in an entirely audio format, but there have been controversies over this sort of thing before (EG Artie on Glee, various racial voice acting controversies). - At this point, casting Ncuti Gatwa as 15 doesn't even register. Not really a blip on my radar. Black Doc? Whatevs. His sonic screwdriver has Rwandan words on it? So? I go to church with lots of Africans. Heck, I'm a black immigrant to ol' Blighty myself, just from the other side of the pond. Ncuti is, chronologically speaking, more British than I am. - Though given that he's Rwandan-Scottish, there may be some debate on the "British" part. - Wikipedia says the actor is pretty left-wing, but the actor seems good so far, so I'm willing to give him a sha-

Oh, come ON!

Maybe the original person speaking was comparing it to the Chibnall “history has always been a whitewash” era, which had a character who was a paper thin Trump satire. A tad ironic, when the whole point of bringing Davies, Tennant, and Tate back is to play on nostalgia.

*Tangent: that word was apparently voted  the most annoying words in English. Which is kind of hilarious if you know that it was originally created to self-describe certain progressives. And the "you can't even define that word!" meme was almost certainly ripped off from the right wing "what is a woman?" Meme. ** This is apparently because she's part Time Lord, through Donna. It seems a tad interesting to me that a few works featuring non binary characters happen to make them enby due to some sort of supernatural (Omniscient Reader) or sci-fi (SW Squadrons) influence which the vast majority of IRL enbies don't have. ...As far as I know.

[universitypenguin]

Reissued Post - Backstory

Author's Note: Because Tumblr was having issues when I posted the original version of this, some of my followers are having trouble accessing it. I'm reissuing a few of my side piece stories so everyone can read them.

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,132

Masterlist

When do you think Lloyd realized he cared and had feelings for princess? I recall in the story that the guys would give Lloyd a hard time when princess finally found a boyfriend that Lloyd would be devastated (poor thing 😭) I also kinda wanna know how he felt while she was dating Aiden. Obviously we know he didn’t like Aiden at ALL lol but did Lloyd ever feel hurt in a way watching princess go on dates with him and when she talked about him?

Learning about Aiden

“Why are you being such a space case?” 

You jumped at Lloyd’s question, startled out of your own little world. Scrambling, you shut your screen and re-focused. 

“Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?”

Lloyd’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. 

“Who are you texting?” 

“Uh… no one?”

He leaned back in his desk chair and looked at you steadily. You curled tighter into the couch on the other side of his office, looking down at the floor. 

“I still have that report to do… maybe I should go work in my office. I don’t want to distract you.” 

“I’m already distracted, Princess. What’s the big secret?” 

“I met a guy. You know that alumni mixer I went to a few weeks ago?”

Lloyd grunted. “Yeah.” 

“His name is Aiden LeDoux. He moved in similar circles to me during college. We kind of hit it off.”

“That’s LeDoux, spelled like the country singer? What state does he live in?” Lloyd asked. 

He typed the name into a search engine with the word, ‘Virginia’ to filter the results. 

“Twenty-six, graduated three years ago, and works for AVT security?”

“That’s him. What did you find out?”

Lloyd glanced over. “You haven’t run a background check on him?”

“No. That’s for when I’m deciding whether to go on a date with him. But I’m curious.” 

“Ah. Let’s do this.” 

Lloyd cracked his knuckles and leaned over his computer. Your phone dinged with a message from Aiden, which you responded to as Lloyd typed. 

“No speeding tickets, no parking tickets. His academic record was less than stellar. Apparently he subscribes to the philosophy that C’s get degrees.” 

“Not everyone is academically inclined,” you said. 

“But you are. What will you guys talk about on a date if you have nothing in common?”

“I don’t know. Football?” 

Lloyd snorted. “Doesn’t start until September.” 

“Oh. That’s why you’re not showering me with long winded descriptions of the athletic accomplishments of people I don’t know.” 

“You could always mention how happy you were that the Atlanta Braves won the Superbowl.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “I know that’s wrong, but I’m not sure which part.” 

Lloyd snickered. “If you have to comment, just say that you’re a fan of anyone who isn’t the New England Patriots.” 

“Noted. Anything else on Aiden? Slaps on the wrist from university institutions, or other authorities?”

“Ah-ha. He has three parking tickets at the university. And a complaint for under age drinking. You should reconsider the date. He’s clearly an alcoholic who steals parking spots. One of these tickets was for him parking over the line. Disgusting.”

You laughed. “Terrible. He was probably drunk when he parked. Maybe even high.” 

Lloyd toggled over to a different page, one that Jake had set up for him. He typed in Aiden’s information and was surprised to see several security clearances. He checked out the company he worked for and found they had several Department of Defense contracts. 

Lloyd memorized the contracts and filed the information away for future use. 

Just in case. 

Date # 1

You were wearing a short black dress with tights and a blazer. He’d noticed the hemline was shorter than usual, but the jet black tights made it work appropriate. The color only served to highlight the shape of your legs. Lloyd had tried not to be distracted. He failed miserably. 

It didn’t help that the cut of the dress perfectly flattered your figure. He caught a glimpse of a spaghetti strap underneath your jacket and the image circulated in the back of his head for the rest of the day. 

Fuck. He needed to get laid. 

You were his friend and he needed to put aside this nonsense. The chemistry between you would never be realized and that was for the best. He sometimes wondered if the chemistry he felt was all one sided. Maybe you only saw him as a friend and a coworker, not a man. 

“Has Y/N mentioned that she has a date tonight?” Jake asked. 

Lloyd stiffened. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering.” 

He tried to brush off the irritation, but it bubbled up throughout the day. 

You had a date. That was fine. It was what single people did, right? They went on dates. He could arrange a date of his own, if he liked. With an age appropriate woman and not someone who was starting on soft foods when he was choosing a college. Lloyd’s eye twitched. 

He glanced at the clock. If he wanted an update on the insurance investigation reports he needed to catch you before you head out. Reluctantly, he set off down the hall for your office. 

Your door was closed, so he knocked. 

“Just a sec!” 

Did you sound breathless? When you opened the door, he saw why. The black tights were gone. In their place was a different kind of tights, made of mesh with a floral pattern that wound around your legs making them look long and sexy. The blazer was gone and your dress was held up by the thinnest of straps connected to a tight fitting bodice. 

Your height was different, which prompted him to look down. 

Fuck me heels. That’s what they’d called shoes like that when he was young. As the saying went, ‘you can’t walk in them, but you can wear them in bed.’ 

“What do you think?” you asked. 

“Is this a first date?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have any concerns about breaking an ankle? Or perhaps an entire leg?”

The shoes bothered him more than the dress. 

You laughed and turned to the mirror you’d hung on the far wall of your office. He watched as you applied a fresh coat of red lip lacquer. The shiny finish made him think it wasn't lipstick, but at the same time, it had more color than lipgloss. He wondered if it was one of those fancy products with the no transfer formulas. The kind women usually wore when they planned on kissing a man. 

A vibrant image of you on your knees with your lips around his dick came to mind. Lloyd shook his head to dislodge the image. 

“Okay, now what do you think?”

“You look beautiful.” 

He genuinely meant it.

“Really?” You tilted your head. “What’s missing? Please, just tell me.”

“Well… maybe it’s the context, but you don’t look like you in this outfit. It’s probably just me. I usually l see you in office wear.” 

You flashed him a smile. “That’s perfect. I’m going more for attention than authenticity, you know?”

He didn’t, and couldn’t untangle the concept behind your statement. The authentic you was a far better version than this glamorous photo shoot ready version of you. With a quick peck on his cheek, you skirted by him and down the hall to the elevator. 

Lloyd stood there, confused, disgruntled, and irritated that he hadn’t even asked about the insurance investigation he’d planned to bring up. He rubbed a hand over his face. 

Fucking hell. 

When he stepped into your office to lock the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. An imprint of red lipstick was on his right cheek. He stared at it for a long moment before he rubbed it away with his thumb. 

Lloyd returned to his office in a much better mood than he’d left it.

Date #3 

Jake had informed him of your last date, but this time it was Zach who let him know you were going on your third date with Aiden. 

Lloyd ground his teeth. 

“Careful there. Don’t crack a molar.” 

“Shut. Up.” 

“Would I do a thing like that?” Zach asked. 

He was grinning like a little boy with a sadistic streak and a magnifying glass on a bright summer day. 

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Heck yeah, I am. Have you met the dude?” 

Lloyd’s head swiveled. “No. Have you?”

“Yep. I waited outside, pretending to be on a call, so I could catch a glimpse.” 

“That’s creepy.” 

“No, it’s being nosy. I’m a private investigator. Being nosy is literally my job.” 

“Well?” Lloyd said. 

“He’s six foot three and probably weighs one forty. It’s like looking at a baby colt - all arms and legs, no substance.” 

This was great news. If you weren’t attracted to him this would probably be over quickly.

“Did you to talk to him?”

Zach smirked. “I texted her that you needed an update on the insurance case and cornered him in the lobby.” 

“She’s going to kill you when she finds out.” 

“I bought him a coffee and did a twenty minute interrogation. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He thought I was just being friendly.” 

Friendly wasn’t a word often applied to Zach Hightower. Lloyd got along with the Texan because they shared a devious streak and could lose themselves in the hunt; especially when the prey was other human beings. 

“Give me your impression.”  

“He’s squirrely. I don’t like him one bit.”

Lloyd focused completely on Zach. 

“In what way?”

“He used the phrase ‘I was in a mood,’ and not ‘my mood was.’ Stuff like that. Princess got pretty annoyed when she found me getting cozy with her boyfriend.” 

“She probably thought I sicced you on him.” 

“She asked me what I thought of him this morning and I had to dodge the question,” Zach said. “Landon noticed I didn’t answer and asked what was up. When I told him about interviewing Aiden, he said the mood thing is a sign of a personality problem.” 

“What kind?”

Zach shrugged. “The kind that makes you an asshole.” 

“She’s going out with him tonight?” 

“I guess so.” Zach said. 

A long moment passed as Zach stared at Lloyd, expectant. 

“Well?” 

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to say something to her?” Zach asked. 

“You’re the one who thinks her boy toy has a personality problem. You say something.” 

“Landon said that, not me. I can tell he’s the kind of guy things just ‘happen’ to. The kind that doesn’t realize they’re responsible for how they act.” 

“I’m not going to disturb her relationship.” 

Zach sighed. “You’re such a bitchy little girl.” 

Lloyd sneered. “And you’re a nosy old woman.” 

“It’s my job, asshole.”

Date #5

Lloyd should’ve been suspicious when Zach brought him to a bar that didn’t have chandeliers made of antlers. 

Obstensivey, this outing was to distract him from your date tonight. When he found himself sitting at a table on the mezzanine of a place called “Club Violet,” questions should have come up. 

Jake sat to his left and Zach across from him. When Zach’s eyes began to stray around the room, Lloyd mimicked the behavior, almost out of habit. The lower area held the majority of the crowd. Its large dance floor pulsed with activity and the bar was packed. 

Then, he saw what Zach was looking for. You were perched on a barstool, your arms twined around Aiden’s neck. He was standing in front of you, his hands caressing your hips, straying lower than they ought to. 

Lloyd’s breath hissed. “Jake, if I throw Zach head first over this railing, do you think he’ll die?” 

“Huh?” Jake’s head snapped up from his phone. He stared. “What?”

“I could just snap his neck with my bare hands.” Lloyd’s tone was conversational. 

Jake looked between them and then back to his phone. “Landon will be here any minute.”

“Off topic, boy wonder,” Lloyd grumbled. 

“It’s relevant. We need two of us to break you up.”

“He’s been waylaid,” Zach said.

Lloyd glanced down and saw that your position had changed. You’d let go of your boyfriend to speak with a newcomer. Even from a distance in dim lighting, he could identify Landon’s fade haircut and the military straight posture. 

“Damn it.”

He snarled at Zach, who returned a Cheshire cat grin. 

“Well, well, well… look who's coming up the steps.”

Lloyd didn’t need to look. He knew you’d be on your way over. He covered his eyes and groaned. 

“I’m blaming you for everything. Everything.”

“Why are you guys playing the role of protective older brothers?” Jake asked.

“Because Aiden’s a squirrely little punk,” Zach said. “See? He isn’t even coming with her.”

Lloyd uncovered his eyes and frowned when he saw Zach was right. Aiden was still at the bar. He’d turned to a girl with raven’s wing hair and was chattering away, looking suspiciously like he was trying to pick her up. His eyes narrowed as something cold moved in his chest. 

You arrived on the second level with Landon and were rapidly approaching.

“What’s our cover story?” Jake asked.

“No cover story,” Zach said.

At least Zach was being straightforward, even if he was obnoxious. Lloyd tossed back half of his bourbon and hoped some liquid courage would take the edge off. 

Your eyes cut to Zach when you stopped at the head of the table.

“What are you? The Gladys Kravits of Bishop & Howard?” 

The big, blond Texan flashed a smile. 

“Why thank you, sweetheart. In my profession, that’s the highest compliment one could hope to achieve.” 

With an exasperated groan, you dropped into the chair beside Zach, and turned to Lloyd with an expectant expression.

“Can’t you collar him?”

“I’ve tried. Shock collars, choke chains… Nothing has worked.” 

Zach slung an arm around the back of Princess’ chair. 

“Your boyfriend is an asshole. Landon? You talked to him.”

“Just for ten seconds.”

You shared a look with the dark haired man and slanted Zach a sidelong glance. 

“You’re paranoid. I think you should see someone about that.”

He laughed. “I have. They can’t fix me.”

It was annoying that Zach’s arm had moved forward on your chair and was now pressed against your back. Did he think he was your best friend, rather than Lloyd? He had the urge to kick the other man under the table. 

You turned to Jake.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re right. These two,” he gestured to the older men, “are crazy. I think it’s age.”

“Shut up, punk. I can kick your ass any day of the week,” Zach said.

It was pretty much true. Zach only had two inches in height on the young man, but it was the solid 60 pounds of muscle that made him an immovable force. You couldn’t see the weight until he took off his jacket and even then, there was only a hint of the musculature. Zach never wore clothing that drew attention to his physique. He let it come as a nasty surprise to anyone stupid enough to mess with him. 

You were bantering with the Texan about him being your nanny. Lloyd watched closely and all he could see in Zach’s behavior was a paternal kind of affection. He knew a thing or two about Zach and because of that, he doubted there were any hidden motivations behind his actions.

What about Aiden had triggered Zach’s instincts? The way he talked. The lack of ownership of behavior. Lloyd tried to evaluate that on its own, treating it as fact. He could see the issue Zach was insisting was such a problem. Sitting there with the others bantering around the table, Lloyd turned his thoughts inward, pretending to present as he ran through the logic in his mind. 

He was paying enough attention to the conversation to notice you were gently trying to soothe Zach’s nerves. It seemed to be working, too. Landon was watching you closely and asking questions from interrogation school 101. By the time you left the table, pausing to hug Zach and reassure him that you were totally fine and had listened to all of his red flags, Lloyd had come to a decision. 

“What do you think?” Zach asked Landon when you were gone.

“I’m not sure. He seems insecure but hey, some guys of his age just are.” 

Zach groaned and shook his head. He picked up his beer and tilted it at Lloyd in a salute. 

“Look at the benefits of being nosy. I talked some sense into her.” 

Lloyd grunted. He waited for the right moment to corner Landon alone. He caught his shoulder and turned him away from the bar, where he’d been heading. 

“Come on. You don’t need another beer.” 

“Excuse me?” Landon demanded. 

“I want to talk to this Aiden kid. If Zach’s this worried about him, we need to check him out.”

“When did this become ‘we,’ rather than just you,” Landon asked. 

“Hurry up, we’re losing him.” 

Aiden was heading toward the door and the crowd prevented them from following as closely as they would have preferred. By the time they hit the sidewalk, Aiden was out of sight. Lloyd spun around, scanning the area. 

“Shit. We lost him.” 

“Is that him?” Landon asked. 

Lloyd whirled. 

He searched the crowd for a tall, thin man but didn’t find him. 

“Where?”

“With the blonde.”

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed on the silhouette of a couple standing in the shadow of a street lamp. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“No,” Landon said. 

Lloyd was almost ready to approach when the couple turned and began walking away. 

Landon grabbed his elbow. 

“Come on. Let’s not be weird. If you have something to say about Princess’ relationship, say it to her.” 

“What, exactly, am I supposed to tell her that Zach hasn’t already?” 

Landon snorted. 

“You know he’s only saying it because he knows you won’t.” 

Lloyd paused. “He is?”

“Yeah. We were expecting you to meet him at least before date number three. But she said you didn’t seem interested, so she wasn’t going to bother.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because we talked about it-”

“We? We, as in who?”

“Everyone. Except for you and Princess.”

Lloyd grunted. “Which is why Zach decided to get nosy.”

Landon shrugged. “He’s your best friend and you’re her best friend. It balances out. We get why you don’t want to step in, and that’s why Zach did.” 

They were nearly at the entrance of the club again, when Lloyd stopped short. 

“Should I be worried about this guy?”

Landon grunted, rocking back on his heels. The look on his face was all the answer Lloyd needed. 

“Right. I’ll look into it.” 

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

Masterlist

[hexagonspress]

you are (not) becket by @gyzym

Here, it's simple: you and me and your dead brother are all swimming in the sick stillness of the water after the storm.

Titles: Mrs. Eaves Body text: Garamond Case title: OCR A Extended

3,079 words | 108 pages

Binderary book 2 (these are absolutely not in order of when I finished them. This was a frantic ten-minute case-in on the morning of the 27th before being three minutes late to work because I was washing my glue brush.): Pacific Rim is a story that went inside my ribcage and my brainstem and won't ever leave. It was my first exposure to a character who's dead from the beginning and who haunts the story for the rest of it and I think about Yancy Becket every two days and I will for the rest of my life. And thus, from there, I get here, where "my name is Becket and I didn't ask to be your gravestone. Like I wanted this, Becket, I swear to fucking god" is just a line that is tattooed on my brain. I've cried over this fic a bunch of times. It makes me feel ice-cream-scooped out in the middle of my chest. I love it and it needed to be in printed form.

More pictures/design/process under the cut.

Design and Construction Case and covers: Flat-back case binding with bradel board covers and spine. This was my first time experimenting with layered materials for the case, because I wanted to mirror the missing pieces that are such a prominent part of the vibes of the fic to me, and oh boy. Layer 1 was on the front board, Hollander's Mango Leaf tissue in blue. Layer 2 was a full-cloth binding with Hollander's pearl linen cloth in charcoal grey, with the upper left half of the title text cut out using a Cricut. Layer 3 was again on the front board, Hollander's Lokta paper in natural. All of the title text was cut out with a Cricut and then I ripped the paper in half (an ordeal) and glued it down with a glue stick. I chose to tear the front because there's a lot of imagery of being torn free versus letting go in Pacific Rim in general, and this fic specifically, and yknow, it felt right.

Insides: No endbands; the book was too small for the pre-sewn ones to work. Endpapers are black cardstock and torn Lokta paper. The casing in was done with PVA, gluing a small tongue of the black cardstock to the case, and then I glued the torn Lokta paper over the rest of the bare board to create a faux endpaper. The torn papers are the same idea that I mentioned with the cover. The front paper is a torn piece of a whole - Raleigh, after Yancy. Mako, after her parents, after Stacker. Yancy. The back is a set of torn pieces pasted back together - Raleigh-and-Mako, without the people they've lost. Yancy, after. I don't know. I think about this a lot. (Also, I'll come clean. The black ink on the back endpaper is eyeliner. My deepest most sincere apologies to any archivists. I don't own black ink and it was three in the morning.)

Typesetting Typeset was done in InDesign. It's nothing fancy. Grief, in real life, and in the way that it is in Pacific Rim too, is a stark thing, and I wanted to reflect that. So, no headers, no page numbers even, and just plain black page breaks for each of the numbered sections. Garamond, my beloved.

We All Do It, or, the Mistakes Section Honestly, this was one enormous oops after another. Since the book's so small each page had to be cut out individually and I won't even get started on the number of mistakes I made doing that. Then I utility knife trimmed and sanded down the edges maybe six times because I couldn't achieve a straight line (I had to change my knife blade. This did not occur to me). The top margin is like 1.3 times bigger than the bottom margin. The Lokta paper faux endpapers were because I cut the original cardstock papers an inch too short and didn't feel like cutting them again. And then the big one...I measured for the case and then didn't write down which measurement was width and which was height. The case is literally the wrong orientation and I didn't realize until I put the block in and the top/bottom margins were wrong. I'm so fucking lucky that the margins were already so small that the block covered all the exposed board so I just cased in anyway but I did have to sit on my floor in despair for a good ten minutes.

Here's the French link in progress because I didn't want to end on my series of fuck-ups. This was incredibly fun but I never want to make a book this small again. That's a lie. It's going to happen again but better. <3

[ginnyrules27]

Okay so I saw 'Once Upon a Studio' yesterday and I mean...I did not ask to be punched in the gut with emotions Disney! Spoilers under the cut in case you haven't seen it yet

-First off, just the concept of the animation studio almost being like Night at the Musem where the pictures come alive was so much fun.

-TREASURE PLANET GOT ACKNOWLEDGED! I GOT TO SEE JIM IN HIS JACKET ON HIS SOLAR SURFER!

-Dodger with Vanellope in the candy racer was adorable!

-Hearing Peter Pan say 'Here we go!' felt so weird when it wasn't followed by Jack Sparrow saying 'We have our heading', those commercials were the pinnacle of my childhood

-Did I mention Treasure Planet?!

-The 2D and the 3D animations really melded well together, especially the scene where Moana's holding Flounder!

-There's an elevator gag that made me burst out laughing when I first saw it

-ROBIN WILLIAMS' VOICE AS GENIE! And no, it's not AI! Disney got permission from Robin Williams' estate to use outtakes from Aladdin for this.

-Milo Thatch getting ready in the men's bathroom with Gaston, Chicken Little, Prince John, the Headless Horseman, Thomas O'Malley, and Doc! Oh, and the Cheshire Cat!

-Antonio Madrigal happily making his way to the photo with Pascal, Cri-ki, Pua, and Meeko and saving Jaq and Gus from being eaten by a lizard-type thing (okay I haven't seen the Rescuers Down Under so I don't know all the characters by name lol) with some help from Pluto!

-Kristoff and Sven hanging out with Ryder!

-"Come on puppies, you're going to get nightmares" is Kristoff's only line and it's to the 15 Dalmatian puppies watching Night on Bald Mountain and yet I feel that's peek Akiho energy and it may find itself into one of my fics

-ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN STEALING MONEY FROM SCROOGE AFTER THE PUPPIES KNOCKED HIM OVER!

-Pat Caroll's voice is the voice of Ursula and I'm loving the thought that the original voice actors stay the voices of these characters after their deaths

-Also what movie is the blue blobby thing from that's following Ursula?

-Also also why did Flounder need water but Ursula can walk around in her half octopus form?

-Can't have a Cinderella cameo without someone losing a shoe

-CINDERELLA HAS THE CORRECT COLOR FOR HER DRESS!

-"Eric, get your dog!" You can pry the fact that the princes are friends out of my cold dead hands!

-"Go Max go!" Aww, I love the fact that Cinderella can be goofy when she's not living with her abusive step family!

-The moment with Mickey and Walt's photo and 'Feed the Birds' in the background...yeah it's okay, I didn't need to do anything but cry for the next seven days

-Jeremy Irons as Scar!!

-"Make it pink" "Make it blue" was such a good bit

-The classic Goofy scream!

-STITCH!

-All of them coming to sing When You Wish Upon a Star...Mirabel playing with Scat Cat, Belle singing with Beast, James Woods as Hades' voice, Jodie Benson reprising the voice of Ariel...just all of it!

-Snow White bringing Asha from Wish to stand next to her with Mulan on the other side and characters from Disney's 'Dark Age' on either side in the background

-Speaking of the Dark Age characters, how do you think they were treated during all this at the time? Especially Black Cauldron since that almost saw Disney Animation close its doors but it was nice to see all the characters be part of the short

Safe to say I loved every second!

[runwayrunway]

No. 45 - BermudAir

Sometimes, when I'm especially bored at work, I find myself idly checking to see if there are any interesting planes at Logan Airport. It's common to see an MD-11 or A380, but every once in a while we get Blueprint, for example, or Vatnajökull or Hekla Aurora, or the Blackpink plane, and I always have my fingers crossed one day Xáat Kwáani will be there.

Today, the 23rd of August, I opened FlightRadar24 and was startled to see we were graced with the presence of a British Midland Embraer E175.

What is an airline which hasn't existed since 2012 doing operating a flight to an airport it never served using a type it never flew? Well, disappointingly, they aren't.

As far as consolation prizes go, though, I'm perfectly happy with a brand new airline to discuss.

So I'm reasonably sure what happened here is that BermudAir is using British Midland's old ICAO designator, BMA, and FlightRadar hasn't updated its data to match yet. They do this. I regularly get a kick out of the fact that their map insists Cape Air's Tecnam P2012s are jets.

Regardless, it was a good way to grab my attention! When I say BermudAir is new I do mean brand new - as in, they haven't flown a single revenue flight yet. Their plan is to begin service to Boston Logan and Westchester County Airport (located just north of New York City) on the 31st of August and Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood on the 15th of September, connecting all three destinations with Bermuda's L.F. Wade International Airport.

So let's take a look at this girl, temporarily local to me! This is VQ-BLU, but you can call her Topsey, which is an adorable name. She's an eleven-year-old Embraer E175, formerly of Flybe. And wow, is she tropical. Fort Lauderdale is one thing, but just imagine this plane parked in Boston in the middle of a blizzard. Oh, no...it'd just be her bright little tail poking out in a sheet of white...

If you look closer you can see that the interior of the winglet is a very washed out blue with the BermudAir logo on it.

She's vibrant! She's tropical! I love this design, obviously. It would be difficult not to. It's just...visually pleasing, right? It's bright and pink and colourful and gorgeous. While I initially thought this design was sort of familiar I think it might just be a very popular style, because if it's actually taken from a specific preexisting piece rather than commissioned for BermudAir it's certainly not one I could identify. Anyway, it looks nice.

...wish they'd painted the rest of the plane, though.

So this is VQ-BLW, Willy to her friends. If the names Topsey and Willy have any particular origin, it's not one I'm aware of, but as always I prefer named airplanes to unnamed ones. Willy is also eleven years old and a Flybe veteran, and is currently parked at Muskoka, presumably waiting to be ferried to her new home.

One thing I do quite like is the degree to which the design changes depending on the lighting. This sort of fuchsia is great for that. It looks pastel in the light and luminescent in the shadow, but never looks washed out or dusty. The composition of the blues and pink is absolutely beautiful.

For a minute there I thought the engines had some sort of pink design which made me think of a flower for some reason, but upon closer inspection it appears to just be an engine cover lashed on with ropes of a similar dusty pink colour. This is a shame. More airlines need to do creative things with their nacelles. Even if they're subtle, it can make a huge difference when you consider it's one of the most foreground things period when seeing the plane from the side.

That's a shame. Oh, well.

As for the primarily white portion of the body, it could be worse. They've chosen a tolerable sans serif, and they've made it dark grey rather than black to avoid it looking too harsh and out-of-place. I also like the location beneath the window-line, something more typical of turboprops which I think adds a nice bit of variety when done in large text on a jet like this. The stylized A in the logo and Topsey's name are both rendered in cyan, keeping some of that tropical energy throughout the airframe. That said, while the text is quite legible (the generous but not excessive space between letters and the size it's printed in are both excellent) I really wish the cyan-on-white was a bit easier to read.

While somehow the abstract nature of the tail design combined with the massive wordmark at the front prevents the plane from feeling lopsided as many similar layouts do, I still think this could be improved. Beyond the simple fact that it's boring, I distinctly dislike the very luxury-hotel feeling of combined tropical colors and sterile white. That sort of thing has always given me the ick, and also just feels unsure of what it wants to be. Are you having fun or are you going to perform a surgery? Are we a bunch of businessmen in suits having their meeting inside of a hot tub drinking Mai Tais or are we a group of seven to ten college-aged girls with modest Instagram followings playing beach volleyball in a conference room? You can't be both.

But, I mean...in terms of vacation branding, this is about as standard as you get. This is every big resort on St. John's and every luxury cruise to the extremely teal oceans of some archipelago somewhere. So despite my personal distaste for the style in general I have to admit this is a well done instance of it. That art on the tail really is nice, it really just is. I wish I knew who the artist was, because they know their way around a color palette.

So how do we...well, I don't want to say fix this, because I do think it gets the job done. I think I need to reframe my phrasing for this and future reviews: how do we make this an A? And I don't know. There's the obvious, extending the design to the whole plane, but I don't even think you need to go that far. A bit of light colored remnant trailing off into the rest of the plane, maybe a shift for the fuselage itself from pure white to a dusty pink or cyan...or, if you commit to the idea of the beach, both, for a sunset over an ocean. Add something to the engines, you might have something!

But this livery is already kind of admittedly more than adequate. I feel like people who are more receptive to this...vibe than I am would really rate this. And that isn't not a factor in my decisions. I don't just base these off aesthetics, or my rating for Saudia wouldn't be what it is. There's a degree of...trying, here, and a degree of succeeding, even. I do think it's well designed even though it reminds me of the little bottles of shampoo you get at hotels.

So, um...B-, I think. That's what I'm going with for the moment - could someone please "accidentally" get some grapefruit juice on the front fuselage, though? Just as a favor to me.

Okay, wow, Runway Runway. Nice post, but uh...is this really what took you so long to finish? And don't you normally give some background on the airline you're talking about? Is this some sort of joke?

Well...no. I wanted to put the review in the start of the post for a couple of reasons, but I'd appreciate if you continue reading for some background on BermudAir. There's a lot about the airline that requires some pretty extensive context, and I think it would be actively irresponsible not to talk about. The rest of this post is going to be long, but that's for a good reason, so please bear with me.

BermudAir is actually a milestone - Bermuda's first airline, apparently. I was startled to learn this, and it made me pretty excited. Bermuda is a British Overseas Territory - this is to say, a colony of the English Empire which even in the modern day has not gained its independence and retains the King of England as its head of state despite being self-governed in every practical sense of the term. It would be fantastic to see Bermuda establish its own flag carrier, to have more of its own infrastructure, and just broadly more to call its own that isn't imposed by the British Empire.

And that's when this stopped really being a normal Runway Runway post.

I was surprised to learn that BermudAir is the first airline in Bermuda's history. It turns out that's because it isn't true - though it might appear that way until you roll up your sleeves and root around in the compost bin of publicly available records. While Bermuda's Bermuda Civil Aviation Authority (BCAA) has issued Air Operator Certificates (AOC) multiple times in the past, most were for startups that fell through. People have been trying and failing now for literal decades to make an airline stick. But while no scheduled passenger airlines have gotten off the ground, BermudAir is not the literal first airline in Bermuda. Leisure and charter airline Freedom II appears to mostly fly to Anguilla and is headquartered in Florida but is registered in Bermuda, and supposedly an airline called Brisair also operated from Bermuda but Planespotters.net says it's Swiss and all photos seem to be from Finland, and they don't appear to so much as have a website, so...I'm not sure. I don't even know if Brisair is still in operation. There's also charter and cargo airline Longtail Aviation, which made the news in 2021 when one of its planes disgorged a few assorted engine gubbins while flying over the Netherlands.

This is at least two and potentially three things operating in Bermuda which I would definitely describe as airlines, so BermudAir is not the first Bermudian airline! They appear to be the first Bermuda-founded airline to operate scheduled service to Bermuda, and will be the only one to operate year-round service from the island, but that isn't the same thing as being the first Bermudian airline. You can't just say things that aren't true! And even the government seems to be repeating this.

"We are very happy to welcome BermudAir as Bermuda's first carrier, as they work toward setting a new standard for travel," Bermuda's Minister of Transport Wayne Furbert said in a statement celebrating the carrier's launch. "This partnership represents an exciting milestone for our island, as it enhances connectivity and strengthens our position as a premier destination. With BermudAir's commitment to providing convenient connections, we anticipate a significant boost to our tourism market."

And this just feels wrong. The Bermudian government's enthusiasm about this project doesn't actually fill me with very much optimism given the context in which they're saying this and in which BermudAir exists.

All of what I'm going to say right now is incredibly oversimplified and I don't have the necessary background to not oversimplify it, so keep in mind these are very broad statements and that for a better picture you would need to seek out Bermudian writers. But even my simple version is pretty long, and a little bit technical. All of my sources are going to be at the bottom of this post and I'm sure there's a lot I've overlooked, so if you have anything to add or correct please do so. This said, BermudAir is not for Bermudians.

The flag of Bermuda. Pay close attention to the best coat of arms I have ever seen in my life. Can you imagine how good this would look without the Union Jack cluttering it up?

Bermuda is a very 'prosperous' place, a statement which is deeply misleading. It has a colossal GDP, driven not by any domestic industry but from its status as one of the world's best-reviewed tax havens. Indeed, tariffs imposed by the US have essentially meant that agricultural exports are a nonstarter as an economic pursuit and their wealth comes instead from tourism and thousands of foreign businesses with no real connection to Bermuda flocking there to take advantage of the almost nonexistent taxes.[10]

At various points anywhere between 20 and 30 percent of those residing in the country have not held Bermudian status. This is a term that should be clarified upfront. Bermudians, and anyone born in Bermuda, are British nationals but do not have British citizenship. They instead have 'British Overseas Territories Citizenship', which does not confer the rights associated with actual citizenship, such as that of work or abode. Many Bermudians accordingly do not consider themselves to be British.[17]

However, there exists a local 'citizenship' called Bermudian Status. Bermudian Status is given to those with at least one parent who holds Bermudian status, or by formal government award. It is not given to those born on Bermudian soil, cannot be bought, and is very difficult to obtain if not born into. I have literally never seen such stringent requirements for a citizenship in my life, and this does actually have meaningful consequences. Rights such as those to work, own businesses, obtain scholarships, and vote are restricted to those with Bermudian status. They also cannot purchase property - with one exception.[17]

All of the above sounds pretty horrible, and I'm sure it sometimes is, but it needs to be taken in the context it exists in. Bermuda is an incredibly popular tax haven for the ultrawealthy[10] and accordingly flocked to by nationals of other countries. Although Archibald[17] makes it out as if there is some sort of epidemic of arbitrarily disenfranchised Bermudian-born individuals this doesn't actually seem to be true, as 97% of those born on Bermudian soil actually do hold Bermudian status, as do 31% of those born elsewhere.[18] It may be difficult to obtain, and that may well be a problem, but this does not appear to be an epidemic of people disenfranchised from birth, which does exist elsewhere. For instance, former USSR citizens in Latvia and Estonia were not granted citizenship and many remain functionally stateless, and residents of American Samoa are considered US nationals but not citizens. This makes them, among other things, ineligible for any government benefits for disability or medical care.

These people without Bermudian status aren't just stateless, though. They hold the same British Overseas Territories Citizenship as Bermudians, and may well hold others - for instance, those born on US military bases are US birthright citizens. The majority of these non-Bermudians are foreign-born and thus presumably hold a different citizenship. And citizenships can be something pretty lopsided. A US, UK, or EU passport holds an absolutely outsized amount of power and convenience when it comes to free travel and may entitle you to myriad benefits from said governments. I know a lot of people with dual citizenships who have no love whatsoever for the US or UK but keep their passports because life without one is measurably harder. And think of it this way: a non-Bermudian living in Bermuda is less like someone born in American Samoa, who has no nationality other than the US but cannot vote or derive government benefits, and a little bit more like a permanent resident, who can't vote, a system had by just about every country.

And there's probably a reason Bermuda is so stingy about Bermudian status. I'll be honest, it's pretty telling that unlike many other jurisdictions Bermuda doesn't allow one to pay their way into citizenship. I'm sure some people want that to be the case, given the demographics of non-Bermudians in Bermuda, but the distinction between people actually from Bermuda and those who are just using it for a tax break is actually meaningful. I'm sure there are people genuinely harmed by this law, but there's one more thing I need to point out: non-Bermudians are allowed to own land. The only restriction is that they're limited to the most expensive 5% of it. This sends a pretty clear message about who non-Bermudians are.

Since agriculture is mostly a non-starter and so much of the country is foreigners, aside from tax breaks and registering yachts Bermuda's main industry, particularly for employment of locals, is tourism. The need to satisfy tourists makes everything else frequently secondary to avoid upsetting the fulcrum of the economy and can impede efforts of worker's unions. What taxes do exist are placed on workers and end consumers rather than those who own businesses and property. The majority of taxes come from customs, and though payroll is taxed personal income is not, meaning that all income tax is paid off of wage labor and none off of personal accumulated capital. Land tax does exist, but makes up the smallest portion of tax income.[4] The cost of living is commensurate with the GDP and benefits for the elderly and disabled are notably lacking[13]; most disabled and elderly residents are Black[11].

As with many places with a similar history under colonial rule, Bermuda has an extensive history of violent racial oppression and the effects are still clearly seen today. According to the most recent data I could find, admittedly from 2012, though Black Bermudians make up the majority of the population their average income is 22% lower than that of White Bermudians and their median income 30% lower[1]. While I don't have the data on hand, just the analysis the government itself published, my assumption would be that this means that, though the wealthiest Black Bermudians still make less than the wealthiest white Bermudians, they are still significantly pushing up the average, and a heavily disproportionate number of Black Bermudians make up the ranks of the absolute most impoverished Bermudians.

Most tellingly, from my own perspective, non-Bermudians have a 20% higher median income than Bermudians of any race, and this is increasing at a higher rate than that of Bermudians as well. In the past decade the greatest increase has been seen by non-Bermudian women, and the least by Bermudian men, suggesting that the gender gap is slowly closing while the nationality gap is widening[1]. The Tax Justice Network's 2018 report notes that the Bermudian government has 'conspicuously' never produced a study of income inequality and does not provide equivalized numbers, which makes it difficult to properly derive true numbers and compare to other countries. Still, here is what they found:

While while wages did rise between 2008 and 2016, the highest-earning only just kept up with inflation while those earning lower wages have, in real terms, had their earnings fall by 5%. Although clerical jobs are low-paying compared to the (very inflated) average, they're doing fantastic compared to the 32% drop seen by workers in Agriculture & Fisheries.[4] While in countries like the United States these jobs are primarily sloughed off to migrants with little to no recourse against poor treatment and pitiful wages, in Bermuda these jobs are presumably similar in implementation but half of them are worked by native Bermudans.[4] Black Bermudians are the majority of the workforce, yet 65% of those in managerial and professional occupations are white.[11] This means that most of the people having their wages functionally decrease were Black, further exacerbating the racial wealth gap.

When comparing average to median income Bermuda has some of the highest income inequality in the entire world, comparable to that of the United States and worse than that of London.[4] That is unbelievably dire, especially given how often Bermuda is represented as some sort of poverty-free paradise when attempting to galvanise tourism among the US's upper classes.

As for independence, a referendum was actually held in 1995, and the prospect was defeated by 74%, with a worryingly low voter turnout of 59%. While this clears the required bar of 40% of eligible voters opposing independence, it is still not an inspiring number. Apparently this is fairly normal, with only 60% of eligible voters registered[13] and reliably low turnout[10] suggesting this is the norm rather than the exception. This becomes all the grimmer when a Cabinet Minister "[...] compare[s] the Country to a business that had prospered under Bermudian management". Additionally, said Minister "had detected 'a shift in attitude' against blacks in the UBP. Caucus members who she would not name felt 'too many concessions were being made for black people,' and Government was doing too much to level the playing field.'"[2] Bermuda has for most of its history been ruled by a conservative party which remained in power despite being supported primarily by the white minority, and has had consistently low voter turnout[11]. Their Governor is still appointed by the English Crown, and in 2020 Bermuda was generously granted its first ever Black Governor! She is not, however, a Black Bermudian, and in fact many in the government expressed displeasure at the fact that Bermuda is still not independent, calling for at least a Deputy Governor who is actually from Bermuda, and mentioning that they had been asking for a Black Governor for a majority Black society twenty entire years ago![12]

Now pair that with the knowledge that the Governor appoints the Premier and Senate as well and that these positions are held until the Crown decides otherwise and that racial wealth disparity begins to make more sense. Legal power is concentrated in the same hands it has since its inception as a British Territory, that of wealthy white Britons. It didn't surprise me to learn where the opposition to independence came from. "The powerful families who control much of the island's commerce wish the issue of independence would simply go away," wrote Aline Sullivan for the International Herald Tribune in the leadup to the referendum. From the same article: "One private trust manager, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said that if Bermuda became independent, the financial community would 'have to rethink everything. Unless we are careful, we may start losing business' to the Cayman Islands and elsewhere, the manager said. 'People may not think of us if we can no longer market Bermuda as a British colony.'"[3] It seems blatant, reading over this, that while there was a genuine push for independence by the primarily Black permanent population, the question for the actual government was always one of optics and how best to cater to the financial giants using Bermuda as a tool.

The takeaway from this is that Bermuda's wealth is not generated via authentic economic prosperity but by offshore banking conducted by already-wealthy individuals born elsewhere exploiting the country's permissive tax laws, while those who are truly Bermudian have essentially no choice but to lean heavily on tourism as a source of income. Bermuda is not unique in this sense, but it surprised me they'd never so much as had a national airline. That's right, this is a blog about airlines. As best I can tell, this is because it's a particularly popular destination for yachts, and presumably nobody in a position to start an airline ever wondered about whether things should be made a little easier for the yachtless underclasses. When I heard this was going to be the first airline founded in Bermuda, I foolishly assumed that it would be an attempt at a flag carrier to make travel to and from Bermuda broadly more accessible.

Oh, and as for the concerning lack of figures - Bermuda appears to be ridiculously understudied. Although plenty has been written on the wildlife and ecology, and in some specific fields like midwifery, I had a very hard time finding detailed studies of the population and for each useful thing I found I also got around seven articles about marine invertebrates and occasionally something like this.

So if people have done analyses of the publicly available census data, or research of their own, most of it is in places where my student-going-into-archival-science's ability to use databases and my university's JSTOR credentials can't reach. And, well, that's bad. It's pretty bad that aside from the sources I'm using the only thing I could find was one study conducted on seniors' ability to access healthcare. It's not great, by the way.

But that is literally not even why I'm meant to be here.

Okay, enough of the politics! Time for some business speculation! As an undergraduate history student I have even less authority to speak on this than I do on the history of Bermudian wealth inequality, so take this with an even larger grain of salt, but I'm going to spend a moment to discuss the most noteworthy thing about BermudAir - its business model.

BermudAir is a boutique airline which will operate nonstop flights to three destinations on the US East Coast from Bermuda year-round.

This is already a weird concept. To begin with, this isn't a service anyone is in dire need of. Although the only one of their three destinations which currently has a direct flight to Bermuda is Logan (operated daily by a jetBlue A220), flights from the East Coast are not lacking. Delta, United, JetBlue, and American Airlines all fly to Bermuda, and the fact that Westchester doesn't currently have one isn't strange given it's mostly a regional airport and the nearby JFK absolutely does have direct flights to Bermuda. This makes me think they may well be frozen out of business for half of the year. Sure, their passengers won't have to deal with seeing poor people at the airport, but they also won't be able to use their SkyMiles.

This service will be non-stop and year-round. Right now tickets are $199 or so, but when they get their planned cabins installed in November prices will immediately jump to quadruple digits.[6] (...this honestly makes me a little angry. That is an immense difference in price for a service that differs only in initial cost of installation.) This is because the entire airplane will be business-class only. This is actually pretty cheap for business class, apparently. I wouldn't know, I'm not really BermudAir's target audience. The Business Insider article opens with the phrase "Bermuda just got a little more accessible," which is really...a thing that they said in their article.

Business-class-only travel isn't unheard of or anything. Private jet rentals are a thing (for people willing to spend between tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars per hour) and carriers like Qatar Airways and British Airways have had similar models on a limited number of retrofitted planes. There's also La Compagnie, an airline which flies in an all-business-class configuration primarily Orly to Newark. And, I mean, that makes some sense, Paris to Newark is a popular route for business travelers...not sure about Boston to Bermuda.

image: Adam Moreira They're actually one of the airlines I wanted to talk about when I first started this blog. Still might do.

A 'boutique airline' is meant to be the equivalent of a boutique hotel - nice fluffy transport for wealthy business and leisure travelers. This definition gets a bit fuzzy - Asiana Airlines and TAP Air Portugal have both been described this way at least once, and that's definitely not true - but I think BermudAir has helped codify the definition. Though Bangkok Airways self-describes as such, I think airlines like BermudAir and La Compagnie are the true exemplar of the category. A luxury vacation airline that isn't quite renting a private jet or owning a yacht, but is still a luxury airline for luxury. There have been attempts at such before. David Neeleman, known recurring character of this blog, has been involved in two such ventures - Superior Air Charter (formerly JetSuite) and Climb. But those are just affordable jet cards with a Neeleman management style (Neelemanagement?). BermudAir and La Compagnie are fundamentally different. They've just eliminated economy class so they can fit more business class on the plane.

image: BermudAir Pay particular note to the pink mood lighting! Apparently it's meant to evoke the color of the sand on a Bermudian beach.

They refer to it as 'Aisle Class', because everyone gets both a window and an aisle seat (and enough storage space that overhead bins just aren't in the equation, which begs the question of...what if I want to put my things away?). 30 such 'suites' will be installed on each plane on the first of November, but for now passengers can pay a steep discount to fly in a normal cabin where only half the seats are actually sold. I don't know if this is a good business class cabin before, I've never flown business class as I'm not the sort of US national who has a bank account in Bermuda. The pillows have the same design as the airplane's livery, which is nice. An entire paragraph on the website is devoted to describing the luxury meals available to passengers. The real Bermuda experience - clean white walls and a Dark ‘n Stormy, am I right?

image: BermudAir

Hey, um...where are the leg rests? Do those seats even recline? I know this is a mock-up but...are there no seatback screens available? Seriously, what if I want to put my bag somewhere? I know checked bags are free, but I kind of...don't think I would want to do it anyway, because normally it's a waste of time when I can just toss my luggage into a bin large enough I could comfortably ride in it if they were out of seats. Also, are there not...seatbelts? Are passengers going to go flying into the seat in front of them every time the plane lands? Is any of this...even remotely crashworthy? Honestly, is it even comfortable? That's so many hard surfaces and just one little pillow and you can't even move the head-rest. This is worse than the average seat on ferries I've been on.

But enough about the interior! They don't even actually have it yet. What are they doing? In their own words, "BermudAir was created to provide frequent‚ well-timed and comfortable flights for business and premium leisure travellers between Bermuda and the East Coast of the U.S.". So...not much of a flag carrier, is it? That said, the government is pretty jazzed, according to Travel Market Report - it'll be fantastic for tourism, of course![5] Up to 18 weekly flights, and maybe even charters if the FAA allows it[6]. That is a stunningly large output for an airline just starting up with only two planes, and I am honestly afraid.

(And there is a bit of worry in my brain that I have no idea what sorts of regulations airlines with Bermudian AOCs are held to. Ben Schlappig of One Mile At A Time thought maybe the 30-passenger limit was to stay within Part 135 instead of the more restrictive Part 121, but that shouldn't matter as they aren't a US carrier - but what are they, then? Does Bermuda even have the necessary infrastructure to oversee a full-service air carrier with multiple regularly scheduled routes, or are they just going to let BermudAir do whatever it wants? That never ends well at all.)

That said, I'm also not sure it will work in the simplest sense. I'm kind of lost as to how putting less seats on an airplane will create more tourism. Founder Adam Scott claims that somehow their fleet of two E175s makes them equipped to serve the demand for the route, unlike airlines like Delta and American[7], which makes me wonder if he lives on a different planet. Delta and American have the two largest fleets in the entire world, plus regional subsidiaries, and they operate regional jets like the A220 and A319 which are both more efficient than an eleven-year-old E-Jet and filled to capacity. Besides, they have a little advantage called 'the ability to not cancel half their flights if one plane has a mechanical fault'. He also claims using Westchester Airport will save passengers time, and I'm just not too sure about that. Sure, JFK has delays on landing, but at least you don't have to then drive to New York City proper, if that's where you're going (and statistically speaking it probably is).

So how about that founder? His name is Adam Scott, so I will until told otherwise assume he is the same Adam Scott as the actor best known for his role as Jacques in my 7th-favorite Hellraiser movie, "Hellraiser IV: Bloodline" (1996).

If you think of Hellraiser: Bloodline as a Hellraiser film, it's really quite bad. But if you think of it as a Dr. Who special where people have their skin torn and warped in extremely graphic and upsetting ways, it's decent, I suppose. Did you know this was his first ever major role, by the way?

Jokes aside, this Adam Scott is Canadian and a former Goldman Sachs executive. He was among the people who worked on the now-discontinued British Airways business-class-only transatlantic A318 service, and after that ceased operation he became involved with similar startup Odyssey, which planned to replace it. They haven't made a peep since 2018 despite wanting to start service in 2020, but Scott does claim it still exists[7].

Well, I will have things to say about this if it ever launches, considering I now specifically hate this particular man.

Scott describes Bermuda as a 'mini version of London City with very similar demographics and a similar target audience',[7] which sort of made me laugh a little bit, although I'm not sure what emotion was primarily driving said laughter. This feels like a parody of a parody. But they're definitely way closer to being a reality than Odyssey, whether they can make enough money to keep it that way notwithstanding. Their chances are probably better than Global Airlines, at least. But hey, wait a minute...Bermudian airline, Canadian founder...weird, isn't it? I mean, who is this airline for?

image: BermudAir

I know, they said business and leisure travellers, but...isn't that so strange? 'Bermuda' is in the name, but the one year-round service to the US East Coast is going to be inaccessible to most of the people who live there, deliberately carrying as few people as possible!

image: BermudAir

This is actually a reminder that I needed - whenever I find something happening in the US to be cynical and disturbing, there is something out there even worse in a place I'm not supposed to care about. Breeze Airways having first class is pretty philosophically horrifying but at least they do still mostly sell affordable plane tickets. Azul leans quite heavily into its Brazilian branding, but David Neeleman is Brazilian, and their tickets are affordable and their service is accessible. That's just worlds apart from this! I've described flag carriers as being a service provided to a country, but this isn't that, and it's not even a product being sold to a country. This is an airline named BermudAir that Bermudians are just not meant to be involved with. I wonder if this is just something Scott never realized, or if he realized and doesn't care, or if that's actually part of the draw! I wonder the same things about the government, given they seem to have a mindset less suited for a government and more suited for the board of directors of a bank.

And I'm sure they could actually find a bit of a market for direct flights to major cities in the US year-round, when the vacation market's dried up and the only way for someone living in Bermuda to get someplace like New York is to pay way more than the asking price of a BermudAir ticket for long and inconvenient multi-stop flights. But that's so clearly not the point. A lot of those people also probably can't afford BermudAir, and the marketing clearly isn't targeting them.

Here are some posts from their Facebook. Some of the most recent, too. An "idyllic island paradise" where a smiling local Black man will serve you some delicious beverages! How tropical. He might even tell you some anecdotes about how wonderful it is to live in a sunny beach utopia where taxes don't exist. Just take a look at that palm tree! And something that frustrates me even more: just a picture of two Gombeys. The Gombey tradition of dance, costume, music, and performance is unique to Bermuda, and particularly its Black population, originating from the African slaves brought there by British colonists. I find it beyond tasteless to just post a picture of them without so much as a mention of what these costumes represent or who is wearing them, just a caption of boilerplate about your airline's upcoming launch. BermudAir's marketing places these people as literally just part of the scenery. I find this extraordinarily disrespectful.

There's nothing wrong with mentioning Gombey exists - in fact, there are events specifically for it! Gombey festivals! Boxing Day is the biggest day of the year for Gombey, don't you want to book a ticket for December? You could be in Boston eating swallowing mouthfuls of snow every time you try to breathe while a man with a Dunkin Donuts cup in his hand screams rude things at you from his car window, or you could be watching Gombey performances in Bermuda! You could even, for example, describe what these people do, or what troupe they're from, or even just mention them. Just mention them at all. I do find it pretty disrespectful when specific traditions are just waved off with a little vague non-description like 'two individuals on a beach in their traditional costume', but BermudAir didn't even do that little insufficient trifling amount.

It's the complete inverse of BWIA's steelpan logo. Steelpan is a major part of Trinidad and Tobago's history as the birthplace of dozens of musical traditions. Music is a huge part of the cultural history of the country, and part of that music was steelpan. The artisans who make steelpans and musicians who play them are something the people who created BWIA's logo thought was so fundamental to the very idea of their country that they put it on their government-owned national airline, making it the very first thing people who travelled to Trinidad and Tobago on a BWIA flight would see. I didn't end up mentioning it in the post (which is weird, because I have a false memory of including it - I think I may have in an earlier draft but then decided I couldn't fit it in even though in retrospect I obviously could and should have? Or maybe I mentioned it in reply to an ask I now can't find) but when I did my research I kept finding people talking about how much they adored BWIA and reminiscing about everything from watching their planes flying overhead to specific people they worked with, and it was really clear that this airline, beyond just nominally being owned by the government, was created by people who put real love for their country's heritage into their design.

BWIA certainly carried tourists and foreign businessmen but it wasn't made by them. That really, historically, hasn't been how things worked. You wouldn't make an airline in one country with a primary purpose of serving a market in another.

A ribbon-cutting ceremony following BermudAir's AOC being issued, featuring Adam Scott, the guy holding him, and tourism-and-aviation-related government personnel of Bermuda. One of them appears to be wearing a navy suit jacket, black-and-yellow tie, and pink shorts. image: Akil Simmons

Adam Scott describes Bermuda as his 'happy place', where he has 'developed links' for ten years.[14] Even when discussing BermudAir he doesn't describe himself as Bermudian, just 'linked' to it, a vacationer. There are spaces in BermudAir for Bermudians, though, he makes sure to clarify. They can provide "the flavours of Bermuda and the island’s renowned hospitality" to the actual clientele. Minister of Transport Wayne Furbert expresses his enthusiasm at the new jobs brought on by increased tourism[14], as if a year-round way for his actual constituents to get to and from Bermuda is simply...not something he's concerned about.

I think I need to cut myself off here, but the last thing I need to mention is this: a Bernews article was written on BermudAir, and their website allows comments. Here are some things people had to say.

Daniel G DeSilva: Although this is an “elite” air service, with BERMUDA emblazoned on the fuselage, it would be great if the tail design even remotely connected visually with Bermuda.

Paid off government: First of all this airline will be flying to other places. People forget that there are hundreds of Russia aircraft registered here that have never been in or out if Bermuda. This is not a Bermuda airline. Its just conveniently named after Bermuda and registered here. [...] And if you have to ask about the price then this airline is not for you!

(There was also some scattered speculation about it being some sort of front or scheme, which I definitely have no idea about, though I won't pretend it didn't occur to me while attempting to reconcile just how much this airline is definitely not going to make money. Having looked at their various publicly listed employees they all seem fairly credentialed, but...who even knows at this point. Maybe this was all an elaborate proof of concept for Odyssey all along. This is all so cynical it makes me want to scream.)

And that's just the thing, isn't it?

BWIA used beautiful colors vivid colors, never hiding the fact that Trinidad and Tobago are, indeed, very sunny islands with nice beaches, but that wasn't the point of it. It's so easy to make a plane that looks tropical, but BWIA didn't do that - they made a plane which represented Trinidad and Tobago.

And if I'm being fully honest, I like Topsey. I think she's adorable, and I think the design on her tail is pretty. But she wasn't designed by Bermudians and she doesn't represent Bermuda. BermudAir is an airline for the East Coast US, where people are taught in schools that the victims of an empire are colonists, taking a necessary stand against the iniquity of taxes, and the Wampanoag are no longer mentioned once the first Thanksgiving is over. The people who make up Bermuda are treated as structural parts of the tax haven England built, not citizens of a state or members of a culture. "Bermuda's first airline" ends up having very little to do with Bermuda, somehow. And I couldn't really bring myself to talk about Topsey without talking about Bermuda.

Will BermudAir fail? In my opinion, probably. But in the meantime, one of their airplanes is parked at Logan, and that's because this airline is for people from Boston, not people from Bermuda.

Sources:

[1] Government of Bermuda Cabinet Office, Department of Statistics. "Personal and Household Income: A 2010 Census Analytical Brief." www.gov.bm. Bermuda, December 2012. [2] Egan, Paul and Jeremy Deacon. "UBP about to Self-Destruct, Says Gordon." The Royal Gazette, August 8, 1995. [3] Sullivan, Aline. "Will Independence Spoil Bermuda?" nytimes.com. April 8, 1995. [4] Fowler, Naomi and Stubbs, Robert. "Bermuda: Inequality and Poverty in UK Overseas Territory." Tax Justice Network. Bristol, United Kingdom, June 21, 2018. [5] Bonfiglio, Briana. "BermudAir, the First Bermuda-Based Airline, Launches with All-Business Class Seats." Travel Market Report, August 24, 2023. [6] Schlappig, Ben. "Bermudair: New Bermuda-Based All-Business Class Airline Launches Flights." One Mile At A Time, August 24, 2023.  [7] Rains, Taylor. "A New All-Business Class Airline Is Launching Flights between the US and Bermuda — See What It’ll Be like Aboard."Business Insider, August 24, 2023. [8] BermudAir Fleet Details and History [9] Bernews. "BermudAir Aircraft Arrives In Bermuda," August 20, 2023 [10] "Bermuda." United States Department of State Bureau of Public Affairs, 1985. [11] "2010 Census of Population & Housing Final Results." Hamilton, Bermuda: Bermuda Department of Statistics. [12] Bell, Jonathan, and Fiona McWhirter. "First Black Woman to Be Appointed Governor." The Royal Gazette, June 14, 2020. [13] Forbes, Keith Archibald. "Bermuda’s Resident Population of 63,779 and Local Expatriate Organizations: Origins of Citizens and Residents, 64% Black, 32% White, 4% Asian and Other." Bermuda Online, 2020. [14] Finighan, Gareth. "BermudAir Spreads Its Wings." The Royal Gazette, July 27, 2023. [15] Jeffries, Bayyinah S. 2022. "Race and Racism in Bermuda" Genealogy 6, no. 4: 89. [16] airlinehistory.co.uk [17] Forbes, Keith Archibald. "Bermuda Citizenship or Status: Deserving long-term foreign tax-paying residents including those with over 25 years residency are denied this." Bermuda Online, 2020. [18] “NATIVITY, MIGRATION AND BERMUDIAN STATUS.” Bermuda: Government of Bermuda, 2000.

[old-square-wheels]

Wuh oh looks like I completely redid my Thomas model :O

So yeah I made the old version of this way back when I first started modeling and found that it looks a little amateurish. But now I'm big, I'm grown, I know a paintbrush like tha back of my boney hands, I will be Tumblrs #1 railway modeller (maybe :/).

One of the big things I wanted Tomtom 2.0 to have was his extended side tanks. HOWEVER the original Hornby model that I used didn't have such extensions so after stripping the previous paint off I chopped off the air compressor and the other bit as they were in the way and fashioned myself some tank extensions using foam board and thin Plastikard. Once they were glued on nice and strong I used Liquid Green Stuff that I got from my local Warhammer shop to fill in the seams (to varying levels of success).

After priming it again I used my newly acquired airbrush to spray on the blue coat. Gold accents were added to the rims of the windows and the cab doorway(?) as well as his builders plates, the safety valve and the two bits on either side of the smoke box whose names and use escape me. Being a big fan of Awdry's models and chimney caps in general I gave Thomas's chimney a quick bedazzle which I think looks wicked.

While waiting for the transfers for the lining to arrive I gave Thomas some lamp irons what were made from a couple of staples and painted black to fit.

Once the transfers had been transferred from Fox Transfers' warehouse and into my room I started the long and tedious process of lining the thang. The lettering is of Great Western origin and the 1s were made using the back of an R.

To finish up I gave him some vacuum brake pipes and only one chain link coupling on his front buffer beam as the other one got dragged into the fog never to be seen again (I lost it). REAL COAL was also added to his bunker which is well neat, innit?

[thefuchsianeko]

As a "fun" design exercise I decided to mess with the Hazbin characters' designs... Not really "redesigns," but more so "refined-designs"-- Keeping their overall look or "essence" while trying to simplify them and clean up their colour palettes, as well as making sure they all look distinct from one another.

I tried to stick close to the original's style but I couldn't help using thick lines, lol. Along with the simplified shapes, it gives them an early 2000s cartoon vibe I think.

For the colours I tried giving them more unique palettes, as well as making sure that they had enough contrast (the colour value of this show tends to be... not great). Also the lineup at the bottom isn't my final selection, it's just a selection to get a better idea of how they all might look together side-by-side.

Eh, tell me what you think. I could keep editing these but like, I'm tired of looking at them lol. More info on each design (plus a speedpaint) under the cut. It gets wordy, sorry.

Charlie: Not much to say besides she needs more contrast in her colours. I changed her shirt to the same colour as her corneas (yellow) so it doesn't blend in with her skin. I wish her eyes were still black (not only does it bring better attention to her face, but it works better with the idea that she's a doll-- yknow, painted on eyes? Does that make sense lol). In retrospect, maybe it would've been good to try some browns with her colours? Idk. I kept her red since she's the princess of Hell, and Hell's main colour seems to be red. Oh also, I gave her some lines on her face and hands just to make her look more like a puppet/doll. The rest of her body would have the same kind of joints/segments.

Vaggie: Ok I know her hair technically looks more moth-like in her og redesign but... it just seems like too much? Yknow? It's kind of outrageous. Idk how well my solution works but I tried simplifying it. I simplified her bow as well and made her stockings more like leggings. Her X-eye now hides behind her hair. Her gloves are shorter. Also I took away that thing around her waist that.... seems to be a different colour than everything else??? Idk what's up with that. Sorry I took away her feet. I tried out some blue and purple with her, I think it looks nice. Only thought about keeping the red bow because I thought maybe it'll match her with Charlie. Also sorry I took away her boobs 💀💀💀

Angel Dust: So unsure about how I drew him... Specifically, his 2nd set of arms looks so floppy and tacked on, and his legs... Idk I'm not great at digitigrade legs but I'm pretty sure that's officially what kind of legs he has. His head is weird. I think I got the idea of giving him big feet from Meppity's redesign video (her redesigns are some of my faves). I took away his bowtie because... too many of these guys have bowties, and he already has a choker too. Also I had the funny idea of all the Hotel employees wearing bowties/bows of some sort, and Angel is a patron but not an employee... Anyway. Kept his gold tooth to link him to Val (who also has a gold tooth), and kept the dots under his eyes since I THINK they're supposed to be representative of his spider eyes? They can be taken away if need be, though. His gloves don't go all the way up and kind of look like dish-washing gloves again but, the way his gloves go all the way up and his sleeves go into them... it just looks so weird to me. Idk, maybe I should've just given him shorter sleeves, or even no sleeves at all 🤔 And honestly I still have no idea what's going on with his pants. Are they short-shorts? Underwear? Didn't change them anyway. For the colours, I made sure all his gloves were the same colour (still don't know WHY they decided to make his 2nd set not only a different colour, but the SAME colour as his skin/fur????). Turned down the saturation on his hot-pink, and gave his right eye the light pink instead of that almost-black colour (still kept his eyes different colours because I remember seeing a really old sketch page of Angel that insinuated that there was a reason for his eye being black). Made some of the darker parts straight-black just because I've been using that in all the other character's palettes, but this can be changed to his almost-black colour. Also tried a more purple palette to get away from all the pink, kinda really like it.

Alastor: I originally tried his coat with coattails, but wasn't sure about it and made it the original shape. Took away his monocle because fuck that it's unnecessary and clutters his face. Made his antlers bigger. Swapped out his shirt collar to be like the one Charlie's og redesign has, because the way it goes all the way up like that gets on my nerves? Idk maybe I just don't know anything about fashion design but it doesn't scream 30's-suit to me. You could probably take away the collar, though. I wanted to try a lot of darker colours for his palette since he's like... kinda the bad guy. Dark colours would work well for him. I'm worried about his arms getting lost in the black of his coat, but that's why his cuffs and hands are a different colour. Really wanted to give him more than just red so I spread out the yellow of his teeth; I like how it looks for his shirt, it also works well with his eyes to draw you towards his face. I also tried to (again) lessen the saturation of his reds and pushed them more towards orange to better match the yellow. Kept all the brighter colours to his upper body to keep your eyes there, too.

Husk: I think Husk was one of my least favorite designs when the pilot came out because he's a real mess of detail. His wings are the worst. His redesign isn't much better (like dawg why's he got these random-ass hearts everywhere). Simplified his wings to just have some circles and rounded shapes. Kept some heart shapes (like his nose, bowtie, and paws) but added a couple diamond shapes, too (mainly his suspender buttons and the shape of his white chest-fur). Really wanted to have more blatant club and spade shapes too (to add to the poker theme), but didn't want it to get crowed and decided the rest of the rounded and heart shapes worked well enough. Made his eyebrows shorter and more square-shaped. Didn't have many ideas for colours but knew that I wanted to try some oranges and yellows. Made his eyebrows a darker colour, and changed his eyes to yellow corneas with black pupils. Stands out more that way, I think.

Niffty: Did you know her name is spelled with two Fs? I didn't. I don't like it... Anywayyyy. Swirled her hair a little more, and took the yellow streak out. Added some fluff under her dress just to match her apron. Kept the dots on her shirt (though there are only two now instead of three) because I'm assuming it'll make sense later (like idk maybe she was shot to death and that's what they represent), but I wonder if you can take those away for a cleaner design? Gave her more rounded shapes. I said before that all the Hotel employees would have bows/bowties of some sort for these designs: Niffty's would be her handkerchief (yknow, it's tied into a bow in the back? That works right...? Eh.) I took away her cheekmarks 1) to clear up her face and 2) to make Charlie's cheek marks seem more unique and doll-like. For Niffty's colours, I (again) turned down the saturation on her pink. I wanted to try using some green and purple on her, since her inspirations include B-movie aliens and the song One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People Eater. Tried using different colours for her skin, since a lot of characters in Hazbin have white skin, and for Niffty specifically I think the white skin along with her white apron dries-out her look (if that makes sense?) Though I do agree her having yellow skin is NOT good if she really does end up being Japanese. I think pink skin works well for her, though. Oh! And again, it helps make Charlie's design more unique with her white skin, making her seem more porcelain. I made Niffty's eyes yellow like her teeth, and then used the same colour for her apron to unify the palette.

Cherri: Ok Cherri's design was my ABSOLUTE least favorite from the pilot, too many senseless details I HATE her ripped pants. So hard to look at. Idk if you noticed in the time lapse but I had to re-sketch Cherri because 1) her pose was too similar to Niffty's (I was making their poses similar to their official art) and 2) her hair was giving me trouble... I kinda hate how her hair hovers to the side like that? Tried re-shaping her hair and now it looks like she uses a TON of hairspray or something, lol. Took away her tattoo but kept her freckles. Took away the skirt thing(?) she's got on her pants. Took the symbol off her shirt, but added an X to her pants (can be taken away, though). Simplified the rips on her pants to just be ripped knees. put a heel on her left shoe so she doesn't look unbalanced/uncomfortable. Made her gloves shorter. For colours, I again took away her white skin for the same reason I took away Niffty's white skin (less "dried out" palette and makes Charlie look more unique/porcelain). Afaik Cherri's not Asian so yellow skin could work for her, though I also tried green skin. Since one of her themes is cherries I wanted to use reds, pinks, greens, and blacks. I tried some green for her clothes (and again her skin), and also turned some of her pinks more red. Made her hair darker for more contrast, and tried using some red for her hair instead of pink (I like the pink hair, but again... red like cherries). In general her colour palette was the hardest to figure out but I think I found some interesting things.

Sir Pentious: Sir Pent was my 2nd least-favorite pilot design by only a little 🤏. It's all his eyes. He's very hard to look at. I took away all the eyes on his tail, and turned down the saturation on the rest of the eyes EXCEPT the ones on his face (maybe I should have just made those reds much different colours, but it still looks a lot better with just the saturation down). Took away his stupid-ass goggles and made the face on his hat a lot simpler (combined the mouth with the hat band; it can still emote btw). Replaced his bowtie with... *quick google search* A jabot? It's supposed to be a jabot I think. I think that's what it's called. More 1700s than 1800s, but eh. Maybe I should've given him *quick google search* a cravat maybe??? Eh, eh, not a fashion expert but anyway. I thickened his mid-section so it eases into his tail better because, the way it is in the official design it always made him look like a slug to me? I looks too... squishy. Banana-slug-lookin' ass Also took away his red-tipped claws and made them straight black. For his colours, I think the grey and yellow works for him already, though I do wanna see how he'd look with more green or blue. Most of what I did colour-wise was the eyes, but also his suit; still grey, but trying both darker colours and pushing it more towards blue and purple. I wonder if I made his skin a little too dark? Is it kinda hard to see his features? Idk. Idk how I feel about these colours. Bleh.

[onaslansside]

We finally watched Alice (2009) after seeing the mutuals yell about it for years and. oh. such a good decision. Thank you to @as-dreamers-do, @taleweaver-ramblings and everyone else who insisted on yelling repeatedly about how much they loved this movie. I have a stash of DVDs for movie nights that no one has ever heard of but everyone winds up loving, and this movie is about to go in that stash. After watching, we both dived for our phones to see what all the other liveblog reviews said, so assume we yelled about all the normal things, and please enjoy this list of a few more unique/underappreciated reactions.

Alice is an A+ street smart heroine, love her. Every time we'd yell at the screen, "BAD VIBES, NO" she was also aware of the red flag and doing something about it. I feel as delighted about this as Hoid was about Tress requesting parental assistance/advice.

"Oh this is very Between." "Yeah."

Why does she run like that. I get that the blue dress, half updo, and mincing steps into the unknown are a homage, but SHE IS A BLACK BELT, WHY DOES SHE RUN SO BADLY.

I can't tell what's up with Hatter, every single description everyone has given of his possible motivations doesn't quite match. Like, he does think Alice is pretty, and he does want to help the resistance, and he does want to make money while doing so, but it feels like there's another more consistent reason lurking in his eyes and I have NO IDEA what it is, not even after watching Gen and Athelas for years.

"The decor of this casino is excellently stupid, this place would have Thumb Thumbs- *spots the Ten of Clubs* THERE'S ONE!"

LOVE a fight scene that understands that a gun within lunging range is no longer a particular advantage!!! Was NOT expecting Hatter to step between Alice and the threat with that little hesitation, that brings him up several points in my estimation.

That Jabberwock is so stupid. I love it. The design reminds me of the two-headed dragon in HTTYD.

I'm no film nerd, but the camera work is so good even I keep noticing it. The Scooby Doo chase with the Jabberwock, the focus shifting between Charlie and Hatter, the sliver of light when Alice opens the study door... *chefkiss*

I have known this knight for five seconds and I love him.

I need to rewatch this entire thing already, because the body language of EVERYONE is so good and so detailed that you can't get it all, especially when paying attention to the lines being spoken.

Every single shot of Hatter's reactions to Charlie are so funny.

Love both Hatter and Ten of Clubs doing beautiful sliding halts on the casino floors.

Wait, did the King just rescue not one but two of the clubs from the consequences of the Queen's temper tantrum?? I think he did. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Is he figuring out he's not okay with this situation? Is he secretly undermining her?

Somewhere in the middle of Jack explaining that Alice's father was being brought to the city, I suddenly began to wonder if he might be the Carpenter, because he'd been shown onscreen an awful lot so far...

"Hatter's going to follow her, isn't he. ISN'T HE? ... oh look, so is Charlie, that's great."

We made identical little sad sympathetic sounds when the explosion knocked Charlie over, but we were both very unconcerned for his safety.

I said, "That can be arranged," at the same moment as Alice and I'm very smug about it.

"YOU BETTER NOT GIVE ME THAT 'IT WAS ALL JUST A DREAM' NONSENSE!! >:(" Melwa smirked very loudly because A) that's canon for the original Alice, and B) she'd already seen spoiler gifsets of the end.

And T_T she flings herself at him before we can see if its like in Wizard of Oz and he just was glimpsed and got into her dreams vs he's real, and then we turn around and he DOES know her T_T, and THE POOR MOM who is cropped out of all the gifsets ajghksjfbfbk

[megamindslair]

Sit Still (Look Pretty), Part 1

Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some unresolved tension, mutual voyeurism, cursing, mentions of female and male parts, Nomad Steve x Black!reader. Nomad Steve x plus size reader. Part 1 of ? Not sure how long this will take to resolve. Age gap, reader is mid 20s, Nomad Steve is mid 30s.

Summary: AU where Steve was born in modern times but still received a serum in the Army to make him more efficient. He's moved in next door and has noticed you watching him. You and your mom have gone over to introduce yourselves.

Word Count: 1,857k

A/N: I've been reading a lot of age gap fics so decided to try my hand at another. Apologies if I miss any warnings or this is super corny. But this was fun. While likes are awesome, please consider reblogging to help writers!

Fuck, your neighbor was hot as hell. You sat on your window seat gawking at the tall, sexy neighbor as he picked up huge boxes and carried them in the house as if it weighed no more than feathers. 

Muscles rippled in a dark blue muscle shirt as he moved and bent over. And that ass. You bit your lip as the neighbor bent further down to lift a chair. Oh and those thighs. You sighed. The Lord took His time with this one. 

The man was at least six foot tall, dark blond hair and a full trimmed beard. He wore a pair of dark jeans and boots. All week, you had watched him go in and out of the newly bought house next door. He carried lots of boxes but none of them gave any clue to his story.

Was he married? Was he expecting? Surely someone that damn fine had a wife heavenly pregnant and ordering him about. You weren’t sure how he didn’t have eleven rugrats running around. There were no other movers and the neighbor had rented a small truck for his sofa and dressers. 

You also saw the neighborhood crones using any excuse in the book to talk to him and be nosy. If he thought someone that looked like him was going to move here without raising any alarms, he was sorely mistaken.

You gasped as he stopped to stretch, moving his body beyond his limit. You just wanted to lick him. Just once. You fanned yourself as you watched him. You imagined all kinds of filthy things when it came to him. 

You imagined him grabbing your fleshy thighs and shaking them before slapping them. You imagined him in between your legs coating that full beard with your juices. You imagined him breaking your back. Like, literally breaking your back. Because he could put you in the hospital and you’d say thank you.

He disappeared into the house. His curtains were thrown open so you could still watch him moving around the house. The downfall to stock houses was that they were lined up just so. The houses were nearly identical. Your bedroom window faced his bedroom window on the second floor. The angle you had was just enough to see his kitchen sink. It’d be possible to see his arms and hands as he washed. 

You spent plenty of nights this week just watching his hands work over his meager dishes. If he was married, she didn’t live with him. You never saw anyone coming or going from his place. He didn’t have a second car. 

Your mom called your name. “I’ve got this cake for the neighbor, let’s go introduce ourselves,” she called. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, your mom was very much just as gossipy as the neighborhood crones. Everything you’ve heard of the neighbor was through her and probably had twisted from its original message. 

You weren’t dressed yet. You had made watching him your dirty hobby. But you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes, you got the eerie feeling as if he were watching you too. You had taken to keeping your curtains open and your light on. 

You never saw him look over here. The random times he was in his room and moving around, he never gave any indication that he knew you were looking. Still, you pranced around in your bra and panties every morning or before hanging with your friends as you decided what to wear.

Sometimes, you even faced the window as you decided between two shirts or two skirts. You pretended that he was picking your outfits, telling you what he likes seeing you in. That he would imagine ripping it off of your body all day and it would drive him crazy. Knowing you’d be capable of making him hard and uncomfortable all day turned you on so badly. 

You stood and did just that. You faced his bedroom window even though he was probably still on the first floor. You held up a red, frilly shirt and a light ocean blue plain shirt. You flipped back and forth, imagining what he’d like.

You put the shirts on your bed and then flipped between jeans and white shorts. You held up the red shirt and white shorts. If you were going to meet him, you might as well show him what you’re working with. You turned around and imagined him at the window, getting dressed for him. 

You bent low and shimmied into the white shorts as slow as you could. Then you slipped on the red babydoll tee. It made your breasts look good. Plus it was hot as sin outside. 

You ran down the stairs and sat on the steps as you slipped on your shoes. Your mom floated into the room holding a small box. “I went with chocolate,” your mom said. “Everybody likes chocolate and those who don’t are lying to get attention.”

You laughed as you shook your head. Your mom was gorgeous, with flowing locs and a great figure. She wore loose tan pants and a cream shirt. 

“Isn’t this a little Southern of us?” You asked. You lived in Suburbia with the white picket fences and neighbors who’d gone to high school together. It was capital boredom and should be labeled as a torture method.

“Best way to meet your neighbors. They associate you with good food and are less likely to be rude to you by throwing loud parties and orgies,” your mother said.

You snorted. Your mom never had a filter and would often say the first thing that comes to mind. Your dad hated it but you caught him smiling more than a few times. 

You trudged over the manicured lawn, over the small concrete divider, and onto his property. The door was closed. He was probably taking a break from moving things. Your mom rang the doorbell and you waited.

The door finally opened and you gasped silently. He was even more gorgeous in person. Fuck, it had to be illegal to carry those arms. They looked big enough to crush a coconut in one grip. His hands were large and his fingers were long, like a musician's fingers.

He smirked at you and your mother. Your mom stepped forward. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, we’re your neighbors on that side,” she said and pointed to your house. 

She told him your names and all about the chocolate cake, including her joke about people lying. He threw his head back as he laughed as if it were that funny.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He shook your mom’s hand and then moved to yours. His grip was firm but not crushing.  

You looked down at your combined hands, loving the way that your copper skin contrasted with his creamy skin. He held on a second too long before turning his attention to your mom who asked him a million questions.

“If I heard all of those, I’d say I moved here for work, not married, and I work for the military. Did I get it all?” He asked.

He had a bit of an accent. You guessed somewhere on the East Coast. Your mom giggled. You looked at her as if she grew a third head. She widened her eyes at you and then smiled back at Steve. She prattled on about her career, that fact that you were in college for your master’s, and that you were always available if he needed you. 

Since his attention was on your mom, you took the opportunity to study him up close. His blue eyes were sharp, giving one hundred percent of his focus on the person speaking. He had a prominent vein on the side of his neck and you imagined licking it. 

“Oh, I have to take this, excuse me,” your mom said. She answered her phone and stepped off of the porch. 

You turned to Steve who had his eyes trained on you. He barely blinked and did not look away. 

“So, military huh? That explains that,” you said. You waved at his figure and he laughed. It was deep and made you tingle.

“Thank you. I’m not active duty anymore, I’ve transitioned to the state side and do boring office work now. You home for the summer?” He asked.

“Yes, I am. Taking a break so no work, no homework, just time to decompress. Usually in the pool. This is one of the worst summers ever,” you said and fanned yourself.

Steve slowly perused your body. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He faintly smirked as he took in your outfit, your wide curves, your generous hips, and your thick thighs. 

He slowly dragged that gaze back up until he reached your face. “Make sure you stay cool, then. Dehydration is nothing to play with,” he said. 

Your mouth went dry under the intense heat of his gaze. You were aware. You were aware of him and aware of his focus. You bit your lips and his eyes zeroed in on it. His eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You shifted your footing, trying to find some relief. The heat outside had nothing on his face. 

Your mom’s scuffling shoes took you out of the moment. He winked at you before your mom joined you. Though it was Saturday, her job needed her to come in and solve an emergency. She waved goodbye to Steve and told him not to be a stranger.

You waved bye, unable to speak at the moment. As you turned to leave, Steve grabbed your hand. He ran his fingers over your wrist as he leaned in.

“My favorite color is light blue. And you should get more of those garter things. They look divine on you,” he said. Gravel skated over ‘divine’ and you whimpered. You hoped he didn’t catch that. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and his eyes narrowed again. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. He knew what you had been doing all along. Your skin heated for entirely different reasons as you thought of all the different lingerie combinations you tried on in front of the window. It somehow made it filthier that he was getting naughty glimpses of you. It made you horny all day thinking of wearing the lingerie and that he didn’t know it was for him. 

It had gotten so bad, that you didn’t care if your parents were home. You had to get off on thinking that he helped select the combos. And those were some of the best orgasms you ever gave yourself. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered and licked your lips. He smiled and nodded his head as if he were dismissing you. As if he had any right to order you around. 

Yet you left the porch and nearly skipped across the lawn like he told you. Before getting in the house, you looked back. He stood on the porch, facing you, with his hands in his pockets. You smiled and went inside, thinking of how many blue outfits you owned.