#or maybe it's something about the way they work itself

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

To each their own, of course. Everybody has their own methods for searching for something to read, and if that works for them, great! I'm not about to pretend I can change anyone's mind, nor do I believe I have the right to. But for anyone who hasn't established their own method already, or anyone who is on the fence about this, and genuinely wondering?

Please don't go by a story's stats, alone. Please?

I've seen so many amazing stories get little engagement, next to no hits, and only a few bookmarks/kudos, zero comments, etc. The fact that those fics and authors might go forever unnoticed by this sort of search method just...it breaks my heart.

It shouldn't be about the stats. It should be about the summary. The tags, if applicable. The fandom, and the pairing, if any, and the quality of the writing itself, instead. And sure, if you click into one of those low-stats stories, and the writing isn't your cup of tea, you are well within your rights to nope your way out of there, and move on.

I guess what I'm trying to say, with all of this, in my typical, rambly way, is just...please try to give those less popular stories a chance, too. Sure, there may be a reason they aren't getting the engagement some of the fandom "giants" do, but it also stands to reason that maybe that low-stat story is also a diamond, buried beneath all of the other greatness, just waiting for its time to shine.

Just because a story isn't "popular" doesn't mean it isn't worthy. And that's all I have to say about that.

Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?

[revelboo]

what is your worst "hear me out" for transformers? mine is tarantulas like a spider in irl hell no… but a big robot spider thats hot

Probably Tarantulas (I love his Earthspark design) or IDW Waspinator.

I read Windblade for Metroplex lore and it reminded me of this messed up, fatally gullible mech that is everyone’s punching bag and just knows it.

Worker Bee

IDW Waspinator x Reader

• Dragging his broken body, his alt mode scrabbles for purchase in the leaf litter. It’s hard to focus on much besides the pain and finding somewhere safe to hide and heal. He’s not even sure what he did, only that Skywarp had pointed at him right before Megatron went ballistic on him and the two other Decepticons that had been close by. Maybe he had done something wrong. He must have. “Waspinator’s fault,” he rasps, antenna flicking because there’s light up ahead, a building where he’ll be out of the snow just beginning to fall. Leaving the tree line, he drags himself inside, legs scrabbling and knocking over a metal can that clatters as it goes rolling and he collapses on the straw inside. So tired, burrowing in.

• Looking up from your book at the noise, you groan because the raccoons are back and they’ve tipped over the trash can. It’s late and you just want to ignore it and deal with it in the morning, but there might be garbage strewn across the yard by then. Standing, you tug on a coat, grab a flashlight, and a rifle just in case it’s a bear, not cute little trash pandas raiding your garbage. You’d left the barn door open apparently and you find the can turned over, but its contents not scattered everywhere. Maybe the sound scared them off? Setting the gun down, you right the can and turn as something shifts within the hay, rising slowly to tower over you.

• There’s a human with a weapon. Here to hurt him, because everyone does. They always do. It hurts to transform and reach for the human, but his injuries throw him off balance and he crashes down, knocking the little organic sprawling with him. And you’re screaming at him, your fear jangling through him making him curl forward, servos over his head. Waiting for a blow that doesn’t come. “Not hurt Waspinator?”

• Hyperventilating as the monster lifts its big head slightly, you can’t even scream. Voice overlayed with slow buzz, the thing had spoken. It’s gigantic, seizing your ankle when you try to crawl away and dragging you back, looming over you. All you can do is hold up your hands in supplication as those awful mandibles work and those glowing optics stare. “Don’t hurt me.”

• This is new. Someone afraid of him? It should make him feel powerful to be the one feared for once, but it just makes him oddly ill. Sitting up and gingerly touching the wound in his torso sluggishly bleeding energon, he makes a buzzing click of his mandibles. “No hurt,” he says as you scramble to your hands and knees to put some distance between you. “Already hurt,” he adds tiredly, and you hesitate in your retreat. Staring at the energon welling through his servos. You take a hand through your hair, expression twisting.

• All you have to do is run like hell. That thing, Waspinator it had called itself, is hurt too badly to chase you. But there’s something about its defeated tone that makes you feel guilty. This isn’t your problem. Big and scary was already hurt when he crashed in your barn. So why do you go over to the workbench and retrieve a roll of duct tape? He hisses at you, rearing back when you try to touch him and you freeze. “Cut that out,” you snap and his antenna flatten back. Not hurt Waspinator? You’d guessed with the way he’d worded that question that maybe he’s used to being hurt. That he’d fold if you acted aggressive and you were right. It’s unsettling to see a giant, metal death bug cringe like a puppy being scolded. But he doesn’t make a peep as you find the hole in his metal side and gingerly tape the leaking lines, trying to not think too closely on what you’re touching or that your hands are inside him rooting around. “Waspinator, right?” The way he’s just staring down at you with those wide glowing optics just cements in your head that he’s a big, really ugly puppy.

Next

[phyrestartr]

Nemesis (The Man I Miss) | Miguel O'hara x M!BlackCat!Reader (TEASER)

CW: jealousy, violence, brutality, self-loathing, implied depression, possessive relationship #NSFW, Top!Miguel, Bottom!Reader, hurt/comfort, anti-hero reader, complicated relationships, lonely reader, crook turned hero, reader is a tired guy, mutual pining - Note: Posting some WIPs I've had laying around for a while while I try to finish up the next HOUND update! Needed a bit of a break from it since it's pretty long, but I hope some teasers make up for the wait. Tysm for reading!

Taking care of Nueva York was exhausting. You were far too used to being the problem rather than the problem-solver. That job reserved itself for the one and only Spiderman–your Spiderman. 

At least, you liked to think he was yours. 

Knowing my luck, the prick’s run off with his shocking wife or something. The thought plagued your mind too often. And it was true: Spiderman disappeared. He no longer served Nueva York and kept it safe, he no longer caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, he no longer gave chase throughout the city before pinning you down on some rooftop and taking his prize by force. And you liked it–no, you loved it. Fucking with the man who’d always get to fuck you back came to be a part of life you relished. 

But now you were alone. Left by yourself to deal with lumbering lizards and giggling goblins while wondering how the fuck you’d ended up as a hero when you were anything but. Even the police couldn’t believe the switch, which caused some problems, and led to less-sexy chases that ended with you getting away no problem. 

I wish I had problems. Just one problem, though: Spiderman. 

You tossed aside your shiny leathers and collapsed into your bed. He’d never been there, no, but you fantasized about it. You thought about his impossibly wide back and the ripple of taut muscle greeting you in the morning, or maybe his built chest and strong neck–or maybe his handsome face–well, you’d never seen his face, but you had your guesses. 

Your chest twinged the slightest bit, somewhere between where your greed and feelings intertwined.

Ugh. You missed him. 

–

“Who's that?” Peter remarked as he walked up on Miguel. The lab was dark and dreary, spilling with shades of orange and amber where the blues couldn't reach. And Miguel, the source of the cold, stood in front of the firelight, gazing upon your image in the newscycle. 

Miguel frowned. “No one.” But he didn't tuck your image nor the article away. 

“Huh, looks like Black Cat. A 2099 Black Cat? Never thought I'd see the day.” Peter hummed and bounced a sleepy Mayday in his arms. “He up to no good?” 

“He's up to good,” Miguel bit out. “That's the problem. He doesn't do good.” 

“He's sort of an anti-hero these days,” Lyla cut in, blinking into existence on Peter's shoulder like the devil she was. “All thanks to Spiderman's influence–” 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned (begged?). 

“--aaand their sweet, cute budding romance,” she finished with a dreamy sigh. “Doesn't it just melt your heart?” 

–

You pinned him against the wall and let your hands trace through the hard lines of his muscles on your way down to your ultimate prize. Spiderman shuddered and stayed still, much to your surprise, letting you feel him, letting you acknowledge the hardness bulging under your criminal touch. Because he dreamt of this too. Dreamt of you touching him, of you falling down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his masked face even when you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to stretched fabric holding back his filled cock. 

“So strong,” you cooed, “but not strong enough to resist, hm?” You sighed and worked him through the fabric with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be stopping the big bad from manhandling you like this, Spidey?”

“Hardly consider you the big bad,” he scoffed back. Spiderman tilted his head back with a choked groan whent hose diamond-tipped clawed gloves dug into his thighs. “Mierda, you–”

“Oh?” You grinned, so cheshire, so in-theme with your persona. “You can stop me any time, no?” 

He could’ve. But he didn’t. 

–

“A daughter,” you murmured. The flickering images–memories, maybe?–were there, waiting quietly for you, preserved and kept precious in shades of amber. But the scene was so alive; you could feel the stretch of the sun against your gloved touch, you basked in the crisp Spring air of that soccer game, you drowned in the warmth of that father's smile–

Spidey's smile. That was beyond obvious. The mountainous shoulders, the tawny skin, those hands– they belonged to him. Your beast. Your nemesis and lover, the man you hadn’t seen for far too long–

“Because you've been off taking care of a kid?” Your fingers, gentle, feather-light, ghosted across that foreign memory. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Who’s your baby mama?

The lab lights stilted and jittered. You snapped from your trance and made for the window you’d come in through, not bothering to see what was happening with your system jammers–you knew Lyla, she knew you, and that made the whole breaking-into-Spiderman’s-base thing more tricky and risky. Your jammer wasn’t fool-proof. It was quite easy to override, actually, but the interference was the difficult thing to detect in the first place. You only thought you’d need a handful of minutes to see your spider, anyway.

But he wasn’t there. Maybe he was off with his little girl. 

Something cacophonous and nerve-wracking churned to the sound of warping electricity behind you as you dove from the window and slid down the side of the skyscraper, claws shrieking against metal and glass alike until you could launch off and latch onto a passing hover car. The periphery of your mind swore it saw flashes of orange and yellow, more violent and heavy than the screens you stared at in that dower room, and maybe you might have heard a familiar voice too. 

The broad, tiny silhouette standing in that abandoned window gave you much more to think about.  -- Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[misspelledwordswizard]

Some forms of courtship of male wolves are to adopt dominant postures, like show their teeth or they may give gifts such as meat or bones, all to impress the female

I like to think that Twilight unconsciously does something similar, he stands at attention around you, puffs out his chest a little, if he hunts an animal he makes sure to pass close to you so you can see it, finds nice things around and leaves them in your stuff, etc

It's all about you, he wants your attention and approval so much unconsciously that he's like a puppy, If you want, he can lie on his back in front of you (act of submission or surrender) Just so you understand how much you have him wrapped around your finger, But please tell him he's doing everything good 🥺

I really like this, this idea itself is very good, and maybe it's because I like it so much that it was so difficult to do.

It took me a long time to get around to writing something about it, because all the ideas didn't seem good enough, and I still think it didn't turn out the way I wanted. But here it is!

Instincts

The Rancher approached me, with something in his hands, crouched down in front of me, where I was sitting, extended his closed hand towards me and opened it, revealing a golden ring with a blue stone in it. 

— What is this? – I asked, confused about why he had it, and why he was showing it to me, and not about what the object itself was. 

— A ring, I found it in a chest. It’s for you. – He answered, still with his hand extended, offering me the ring. – As soon as I saw it, I thought of you. – He concluded with a sweet smile on his lips. 

That made me smile too, it was really nice to know that someone thought of me seeing something like that, especially when that someone is Twilight. This feeling has been following me constantly for the last few weeks, I feel strangely silly when he’s around, and it feels like I’m going crazy, because I’m starting to think that maybe this could mean something more coming from him. This is probably just my deluded mind seeing things, but it makes me happy. 

I accepted the ring, he didn’t seem willing to give up on the idea of ​​me wearing it, and it fit perfectly on my ring finger, it felt right to be there, and it was really very beautiful.  Satisfied with that, the blond stood up and turned his attention to something Time had said, but I hadn’t heard it, as I was too focused on the present to notice the things around me. 

I sighed and hoped that no one was around to hear my silly act of a little girl in love, especially the Veteran and the Captain. I got up from the place I had been sitting under the shade of a tree. It was still morning, some of the boys had gone out to explore the surroundings of the place where we were camping and had just returned, as had Twilight. This ring was probably found in the surroundings. And now, he, Time and the Champion were going to hunt for our food. There wasn’t much to do. We would be staying here all day to replenish our supplies and regain our strength, as the next city was still far away. 

I went towards where Sky was sitting, he was sculping something on a small piece of wood, which ended up catching my attention.  I sat down next to him and was greeted by a kind smile. He seemed to understand my curiosity, because before saying anything he showed me the object he was working on. It still looked very unfinished, almost shapeless, but I was able to recognize that it was a bird. 

— It’s a hobby of mine, it helps me to distract myself.  

— I liked it, it’s really cool, but it seems difficult. You’re talented. – I replied, enchanted by the manual work, I wanted to know how to do things like that, it would be great to give as a gift.  

— Do you want to try? I can teach you if you want.  

— Are you sure? I won’t get in your way? – He just laughed at my question.  

— No, of course not, it will be fun!  

That was enough to convince me, after all, I was already very tempted. Sky gave me a square piece of wood that I could make whatever I wanted and asked me to choose something to carve. I thought for a moment, but soon a perfect image came to mind. He helped me mark the shape on the wood, and then he showed me how I should use the tools.  

It took a while for me to get the hang of it, but soon I was in the mood and we were both working on it, focused, taking advantage of this quiet time to talk.  He told me about his Zelda, and how he used to make her these cute little gifts. There came a time when we just talked about whatever came to mind, without much concern. 

Until the hero stopped talking, and something covered the sun behind me, creating a large shadow. Sky looked at what was behind me, looking surprised and confused, mostly confused, which made me look back too. And there he was, standing, at his full size, carrying a slaughtered boar on his shoulders with a certain pride, with his clothes even a little stained by the animal’s blood, Twilight. For some reason, he was just standing there, without reacting, staring at his brother with something that looked like a frown, which only made the situation stranger and more confusing. 

— Well, if you’ll excuse me, I needed to talk to Time, now that he’s back. – Sky said, getting up from his seat and leaving, with an expression that looked like understanding. 

I could see the wolf boy’s posture relax drastically, and finally, when Sky left us, his gaze turned directly to me, with a big smile on his face. I stood up, putting my unfinished work in one of the pockets of my belt, and turning my attention to him. 

— I got this. – That was all he said, keeping his proud smile on his lips, making me smile with his attitude. 

— Impressive! I’m sure the Cook and I will be able to make something very good out of this. 

His smile faltered for a moment at my words, but then he just nodded in agreement, satisfied for some reason. 

— Yes, I’ll help you. 

— Oh, no need, you’ve already done great at that. 

— No, it’s okay, I want to help you. 

I ended up just accepting that, so I went over to where Wild was to prepare lunch. He didn’t take too kindly to the idea of ​​the Rancher helping, saying there wouldn’t be much for him to do, but his insistence ended up winning the argument. He ended up only being left with the task of cutting the meat, in the end, but that seemed good enough for him. While the Champion and I took care of the rest and talked, he kept staring at his brother with that same weird frown. What’s gotten into him? 

After we did most of the work, all that was left was to wait until the meat cooked, so Wild released us from the task. I went to a corner to read, and for a moment, I thought Twilight would follow me to that corner, if he hadn’t been called by Warriors, making him sulk again. It’s a shame, I really wish I had his company right now. 

 I didn’t see him again then, at least not until now. After lunch I spent the rest of the afternoon going back to work on the wooden sculpture, I wanted it to be perfect. This was good, because it distracted me for hours, when I saw it, it was already getting dark, the boys who were out, for unknown reasons, returned, including my wolf boy, who came straight towards me, ignoring any calls from his brothers.  

He threw himself down next to me, resting his head on my shoulder and sighing. Poor thing, it must have been a tiring day for him. I put my work, now finished, aside and moved so I could look at him better, making him raise his head, attentive to my movements. I put a hand on his cheek, I felt hypnotized by his beauty, and it hit me even harder when I saw him melt into my hand, smiling. That was, until his smile died, for some reason, leaving me worried. Did I do something wrong?   

Before I could ask him anything about it, he pulled me into his lap, making me squeal in surprise, and pulled me close to his body, hugging me tightly in a protective manner. I couldn’t be more confused, but I’m definitely not complaining. 

— What’s wrong? – I asked softly, and he took a moment to answer, looking thoughtful. 

— You still smell like Sky. I’m taking care of it. 

I didn’t know what to say to that, I didn’t imagine that I could smell like someone else like that, but there was no point in contradicting him about it either, after all, Twilight’s sense of smell is definitely quite sharp. I sighed, relaxing against the strong man’s body with a goofy smile on my face. What a good day. 

— Oh, I have something for you! – I said, picking up the sculpture I had been working on, which was shaped like a wolf, or rather, Wolfie, and handing it to him. – Sorry, it didn’t turn out very well, I’m still learning. 

He held the gift carefully, analyzing it, looking surprised. Then he pulled me closer, giving me a tight hug and burying his face in my neck, I could feel him smiling against my skin. 

— Thank you, dear. – He said, looking me in the eyes again, and placing a warm kiss on my right cheek. 

[lo-bo-tomia]

you open up your phone and look for a picture to show them. You look and look but you can't seem to find any pictures of your friend's face. You tell them your plan and they say they've never taken a picture because it would defeat the whole purpose of hiding in plain sight when they're hiding. You remind them that they could just shapeshift into another face, and they laugh. I sure could...

What an idiot. They're desperate. They need their original form for that date. Certainly they can't go as a hawk. You're good at drawing faces, you say that.

You've been doing that your whole life, to capture people's essence. You enjoy drawing random faces you've seen by memory and sometimes the cute and funny expressions your friends make. They're not really contempt but they seem to absolutely need to go back to their original form.

So you start drawing. It doesn't take long. It looks good, or at least that's what you thought. That moron looks at the picture, and immediately shapeshifts into their original form. But something's deeply wrong. They look like... a shell of themself. It's like they couldn't remember their face even after seeing the drawing and they could only shapeshift into the drawing itself. It looks inhumane. They seem to notice right away, and break down crying. You try to comfort them. There must be a way to make them remember a vivid image of their face. You think about that old guy at the edge of the realm that knows how to communicate telepathically, even with images. And you think they could be able to show your friend their face, recover their memory or at least help them recover it. It's not a bad idea, but what about the date? The best solution would be to just tell the truth. It's a complex situation. Your friend is reluctant, and it takes you a solid half hour to convince them. But they refuse to talk. Your idea means you have to break the news. You go out and your friend shapeshifts into a hamster. It's cute, discreet, and they've got wet eyes. They want to look as pitiful as possible. The date's been waiting. You're late. Your friend points at them and you sit down next to them and say hi. They're confused. "I'm sorry, I'm waiting for someone" squeak. You didn't think a hamster could convey emotions so well with a simple squeak. But you swear that sound your friend just blurted out sounded so sad. "I know" You say "You've been waiting for this" and you point at your friend, the hamster. This didn't clarify anything. "I'm sorry, what?"

Your friend starts talking, in a very high pitched voice. "Hi Erin, it's me Alex. I know you were expecting a human but here we are"

"I swear I'm not a hamster, just an idiot. I'm actually a shapeshifter and forgot how to turn back to my original self. This friend over here is trying to help me with that. Could we maybe reschedule the hangout maybe when I look more... bipedal?" - "We were planning on blasting a memory of their original body in their mind, so that they can remember."

"Oh you mean to go to the mindreader at the edge of the realm to do this?"

"Well yea that was the plan"

"No need, that's my dad, I can do pretty much the same thing and I've seen Alex before. Just, I can't communicate telepathically with animals: I'm a little limited like that. It's not even that I literally can't it's more of a mental limit that I can't seem to shatter"

"No problem! I've got the solution" Squeaks Alex the Hamster. They immediately shapeshift into your drawing. It looks so wrong, even Erin is startled. "Yea I tried to make them remember by drawing them, but they just look like a shell of themself"

"That's terrifying, but I can work with that" Erin lays their hands out towards Alex. Their face lights up and immediately they shapeshift into their original form. "That's much better, thanks Erin, thank you friend"

"I guess there's no need to reschedule now, see you around Alex" You ditch them and go home. That seems to be a good combo. You hope the date goes well.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[melverie]

Last post on the entire date ticket thing and then I will forever shut up about it, but I feel like most people arguing in favor of the price tag are just….missing the point on why people are so angry about the date ticket being $30

I think the one thing we can all agree on right from the get go is that everyone in the staff deserve to and should be compensated fairly for their work. And that obviously includes certain features and items having to cost actual money considering the game itself is free

But the thing is, that $30 price tag doesn't just exist in a vacuum

First off, we can all agree that charging something like $3 would have made the ticket sell far better, right? Several people have already pointed out that they can buy a week's worth of groceries with $30 and depending on how much you earn, the date ticket isn't exactly something anyone can just buy on a whim. Again, $3 would have been far more affordable for most people, and I'm sure many more people (myself included) would have been far more willing to spend $3 just to see what the date ticket is like, and maybe also buy the tickets of multiple other characters. But $30 for a single date ticket is a luxury a lot of people just cannot afford, or would rather put into something else. Even if they lowered the price, they'd surely break even and make profit with how many players there are

And judging by its contents, I think it's fair to say that the date itself is not worth $30. And I feel like Solmare themselves know this because why else would they have bundled it with 300 DP? The only reason is to justify this price tag because "look at how much DP we're getting with it tho!!" when that's not the point. It doesn't matter whether the DP are included, because there is a lack of choice here. We have other options to earn and buy DP, but we don't have a choice when it comes to the date ticket itself. Either you pay $30, or you miss out on a feature that many of us have wanted for a while now. And since it's the DP raising the price tag,what you are essentially paying for is 300 DP with a date ticket as your purchase bonus, even though it should be the other way round

And honestly? Considering the price, the only two times it would make sense to buy this bundle is if you were already considering buying DP anyway, or if you are financially well enough off that the current price doesn't matter to you. You won't convince most casual spenders, and you most definitely will not convince a f2p player to pay for this feature

The other thing is that we had no idea what the date ticket actually entailed because we weren't given any information on it. Thanks to people in the community buying and reviewing this feature for others we now know that the date consists of one phone call, a ~10 minute long, partially voiced date story-line and a Majolish background. Except, those are things that Solmare themselves should have told us right as they announced this feature, ESPECIALLY considering the price point. If you don't, you can't complain if people are accusing your company of trying to rip its player base off and of being greedier than the Avatar of Greed himself. But also, that's the thing!

We shouldn't have people in the fandom be the ones to go out of their way to give us basic info on new features, or to even explain certain business decisions in the first place. That's the company's job. Yes, certain explanations should be a given (such as microtransactions existing so that the staff can be paid the money they obviously deserve), but there are other things that should have been explained by Solmare themselves

Open communication with the player base is the key phrase here, and imo Solmare has been doing worse and worse on that front as of late, resulting in several unexplained choices that just seem questionable at best and scummy at worst, as well as a player base that grows more and more disgruntled by the day. And that frustration within the player base shows in the amount of people dropping the game, as well as in the amount of money it's making

People are willing to put their time and money into something they deem a good, quality product with a justified price considering the content. If your player base isn't putting in the money you are expecting, then maybe you should listen to their feedback and re-examine your product instead of overcharging a feature because "look at this thing you're getting extra that no one asked to be included in the bundle in the first place"

Literally part of the reason LaDS has grown to be so successful in such a short amount of time is because they keep making adjustments based on player feedback, even on some minor things. I mean they literally pushed out an update to correct the color of one of the character's tongue in the newest card because people were complaining, like hello!! Imagine Solmare listening to complains as minor as this

Anyway, whether intentional or not, this entire thing just feels scummy, and that's the problem. The choice we have is either "pay 30 bucks per character or miss out on this feature entirely", the price is artificially inflated with the inclusion of DP that we have other ways of getting, romance is slowly fazed out of the story only to now be put behind a heft paywall, we weren't told what we are even paying for exactly in the first place, and there has been a severe lack of proper communication from Solmare that have soured the relationship to the game's fanbase and, most importantly in this context, their customers

No, companies aren't our friends. Yes, they need to make money. Yes, they should pay their employees fairly. And no, we as consumers shouldn't expect nor are we entitled to everything about the game being free because again, the people working on this game deserve to get paid fairly for all the work they put into it

However, people are still allowed to be critical of a company and its decisions, especially when they feel like they are getting ripped off. The 300 DP might soften the blow, but that doesn't stop everything that has happened before from being a slap in the face. That's why people are pissed right now, and honestly it's been a long time coming

[thoughtfulfiction]

Little Duckling

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

Warning: pregnancy and childbirth

Saturday 10pm

Justin had been asleep for almost two hours as you folded laundry and put it away in the nursery. Your induction was scheduled for Monday morning promptly at 8am and everyone within the Chargers organization knew that this was happening because your husband absolutely hated taking the day off. But this was understandably a special exception to the rule. You’d spent the last 9 months mentally and physically preparing yourself for this moment but the idea of having a human being relying on you for everything was still such a daunting task that you almost wished the day wouldn’t come. Not until you felt completely prepared at least.

And then the ache in your back and hips reminded you that your baby girl was quickly running out of room and would be making her entrance soon, whether you and your husband were ready or not. On the bright side, your stomach had dropped significantly in the last few days, allowing you to breathe easier and for Justin to poke fun at your pronounced waddle. He affectionately started calling you Mumble last week, from Happy Feet. The dad jokes were coming in strong.

You heaved yourself out of the chair you were parked in and were headed off to bed before a slight pain wrapped itself around the base of your stomach. The pressure moved from the back to the front, settling on a spot underneath your belly button. You stopped walking and used the wall to support yourself, rubbing small circles around the area until it passed. As a Braxton-Hicks veteran, you continued your trek to the bedroom, completed your nighttime routine and headed off to bed.

Sunday 2am

It happened again. The slight twinge of discomfort had you holding your breath for about 15 seconds before letting go and you had to take several deep breaths to recover. After a few minutes everything was normal again and you had to turn around to make sure that Justin was still asleep next to you. Throughout your pregnancy he’d become a much lighter sleeper, often waking up at ungodly hours to get you snacks or a few nights when you caught him talking to your belly, whether it was talking about the playbook or just telling her he couldn’t wait to meet her, it warmed your heart just the same. But you were thankful for now that he just missed that entire exchange because you were definitely not in labor…right?

Sunday 7am

You were definitely in labor. On a Sunday, when the Chargers were playing the Broncos at home. Of course. You’d experienced three contractions so far, just about four hours apart so you had plenty of time. There was no way in hell you were telling Justin. As soon as it was appropriate, you scooted yourself out of bed and went down to the home gym for some prenatal yoga and a good stretch, hoping it would provide a boost of positive energy. Then you hopped in the shower, allowing the warm water would relax your tense muscles and maybe help you delay the inevitable.

By 8:30 Justin was awake and making breakfast for the two of you while you sat on the couch watching New Girl. He brought your plate and a cup of orange juice to you which you were grateful for, but the thought of putting anything but the juice in your body made your stomach turn.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely touched your avocado toast and you’ve been devouring it the last few days.” He ran a gentle hand on your forehead like he was checking your temperature and caressed your cheek when he realized you weren’t abnormally warm. “I can make you something else before I leave if you want?”

“No, I’m fine! Just not hungry yet, I’ll probably eat later.” You lied through your teeth, desperately hoping that he would let it go. The excuse seemed to satisfy him enough for him to head back upstairs to watch some film and get ready. An hour and a half later, he headed downstairs just in time to find you stretching out your back, the cramp beginning to wash over you.

He replaced your hands with his own, slightly lifting your stomach to take the weight off for a bit. “Your stomach is hard as a rock,” he observed furrowing his brows and starting to piece things together. “Are you sure everything is ok?” His soft voice attempted to mask his worry filled words.

“Yeah I’m having a fake contraction, you know they’re so common these days.” You rushed out, attempting to use his extensive research against him. He could probably write his own version of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” with his newfound pregnancy knowledge. It was both impressive and scary how much he had grown to know what’s going on in your body before you did.

Although he nods his head in understanding, his face is still full of distress. And you could tell he was analyzing your words and tone of voice for any sign that you were lying, leaving you to mentally curse at the fact that he knew you so well and you’d need to work extra hard to convince him to go on like this was a normal day.

Although he let out a deep sigh, he didn’t ask any further questions. “I know, I just hate the thought of you being in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You tap his wrist so he can slowly drop your belly and you turn around in his arms. “You’re so cute, but it really isn’t that bad. A lot less painful than playing with ankle that’s hanging on by a shoestring I can tell you that.” You chuckle, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back and you felt compelled to return the favor, sensing he too needed some comfort. “Here’s what’s gonna happen today though. You are going to go and kick Denver’s ass then you’re going to come home, we’ll celebrate and then tomorrow you’ll be on your way to being the greatest dad to ever live. How does that sound?”

Justin chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips, nose and forehead. “If I’m half as good a parent as I know you will be, then I know I’ll be golden.”

“Stop it before I start crying, you know I’m super hormonal right now this isn’t fair.” You mumble, tears brimming your eyes. He gives you one last kiss before reminding you to call your friend Dani to stay with you, even though your moms were on their way to your home.

Once he pulled out of the driveway you could relax, letting out a deep sigh and patting your swollen middle. Crisis averted.

For now.

Sunday 12pm

Contractions were officially every hour and Dani was trying her best not to freak out in order not to freak you out. But she was definitely freaking out. What started out as more intense period cramps were becoming a lot sharper, so much so that you couldn’t even focus on Encanto, which was the last sign you needed to know that this was the real thing. You did manage to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and take a nap while she was with you, fluffing your pillows and telling you that you were doing amazing. Three hours later, there was a knock at the door and Dani went to open it for Holly and your mom. The two becoming best friends was probably the cutest thing in the world and your mom had even flown to Oregon three days before just to spend time with Holly and drive to California with her. They were the sweetest. And of course they brought snacks. There were lactation cookies for you in the freezer already but they brought more and they brought an abundance of food to eat during the game, which usually would have made your day, but today all it did was make you want to stick your face in the toilet.

You greeted the two women with hugs as Dani helped set up their spread and they immediately asked how you were feeling.

“I just woke up not too long ago so I’m feeling great now. Very ready to not be pregnant anymore so I can see my f—ohhh wow. Ow.” You groaned, one hand on your contracting belly and the other gripping the counter for dear life.

Dani’s eyes bug out of her head as she moves to rub your back. “That was the roughest one yet.” She was right, this one left your whole body sore, a loud reminder that things were definitely moving along.

“This one?” Your mom questions, looking between you and Dani. Then, she and Holly exchange a look.

“Oh my gosh sweetie, you’re in labor!” Holly exclaims, “we need to get a hold of Justin immediately. I’ll call Mark, I’m sure he’s already at the stadium.”

You cannot shake your head fast enough, “there’s no need to call him yet, that was the first bad one. And this game is important.”

“It’s Justin hun, every game is important,” Holly laughs, giving you a loving squeeze.

“But you know what’s even more important to him? You and that baby girl that’s getting ready to meet us soon. Are you sure you don’t want to tell him now?”

“I’m sure,” you sigh, allowing your mom to guide you back to the couch, sinking down into it with a groan. “Once the game is over he’ll be here and we’ll go have a baby. But not a moment before.”

Admittedly, it was getting harder to focus. Justin was playing great, but of course so was Bo Nix. The Chargers would score and the Broncos would answer. The Broncos would get a stop and the Chargers would force a punt. You were entertained but the battle happening within you was the most interesting one to the people in your house.

Your mom had gone down to find your birthing ball, which helped for about half a quarter, just in time for a Ladd McConkey touchdown to put the Chargers up by 10. By the end of the third you were forced into a squat behind one of the couches, spreading your legs to hopefully ease the increasing pressure on your hips. You breathed through the contraction, the sensation sending a pins and needles feeling near your tailbone. Holly made sure you stayed hydrated, having secretly texted her husband halfway through the fourth quarter when the game was firmly in hand to have their son home as soon as humanly possible. Contractions creeped on 30 minutes apart, leaving you panting and groaning in discomfort until your muscles relaxed.

Fifteen minutes later, you were pacing around the living room and you had to stop to hold onto the couch again, your mom helping you roll your hips as you felt thin beads of sweat building around your hairline. Things were getting real and scary and you needed Justin.

“What time is it?” You murmured, cupping your stomach with a hiss as the baby moved.

“It’s 7:15 and he’s on his way home, baby.” Your mom whispers, sensing your increasing distress, “he’ll be here soon.”

“My back hurts,” you state suddenly, a slight tremble in your voice. “Everything really hurts.”

Your mom grabs at your hips, squeezing them together to apply counter pressure, giving you momentary relief.

Dani was in charge of timing contractions and all you knew was the moment in between them where you could actually form a coherent thought. Time was no longer real. You headed upstairs for some time to yourself and a wave of nausea hit you and you emptied probably everything you’d eaten the entire day, which in hindsight probably wasn’t much. But you weren’t in the headspace to think clearly right now. You walked back towards to the bedroom and clutched the doorway, visibly feeling the heaviness of the baby moving down, almost sending you to your knees if it weren’t for the solid, calming presence that was suddenly in front of you.

“Hey babe.” You breathe out, feeling a little unsure that your legs were capable of holding you up until you could sit on the bed.

He pulled you into his arms as close as your belly would allow and pressed his lips your forehead. “Hi. Glad I could make it back in time. I knew something was off with you this morning,” he narrowed his eyebrows at you when he pulled away, walking you slowly back into the room placing a firm hand on the small of your back, making circles with it while holding your hand with the other. “Alright baby…long have you been in labor?”

You let out a dry laugh at his disappointed dad look. “Since 10 last night I think? But let’s focus on the important things, you played great and you won but man you guys really took a minute to shut the door on ‘em.”

“Right, the important things.” He says with a knowing smile. “I know you love football as much as I do now, but if you told me earlier I would’ve been at your side in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

God, you hoped your baby had his caring heart. “I do know that, I really do. But I also knew that you’d be able to do both. The Chargers are your family too and—”

A contraction creeped up on you, leaving you to hold onto your husband’s forearms with a sharp sound of pain, the pressure reaching an overwhelming peak that you hadn’t experienced before.

“Squeeze as much as you want, it’s okay.” His voice attempts to soothe you but you couldn’t hear him over the animalistic grunt that escaped you. Your body tensed involuntarily and he could see your stomach hardening as the tension continued to build. There was nothing more he could do than hold you through it, until something gave way and the floodgates opened…literally.

Even he sounded breathless by the end of it. “Your water just broke.”

Sunday 10pm

Contractions in the house were terrible. But contractions in the car, with no cushion from the water bag made it feel like she was right between your legs.

“Justin, you have to go faster. Please.” You panted out, desperately clutching the grab handle and leaning your head back with a loud moan. “Can you turn on the air, I’m dying in here. And I need to put the seat back, my back is killing me, I’m sorry.” You felt like a turtle stuck on its back, waiting for someone to turn it over and set it free.

“Yeah, yeah do whatever you need. And you don’t need to apologize,” he pats you on the leg, “do whatever makes you comfortable, we’ll be there soon.” He kept looking between you and the road, slightly worried that he’d have to deliver the baby in the car. The only thing that slightly reassured him the whole drive was your sigh of relief when the fan came on. First babies were supposed to take a while but he’d missed the entirety early labor, so from the sounds that he was hearing he figured you were in or at the very least extremely close to the transition stage. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and remained that way until the birthing center came into view. Your parents had called ahead and would meet you there when given the word, so all you had to do was check in and you were brought to your private suite.

Seven centimeters dilated and without painkillers made your husband question any football toughness he thought he had. You were so close to meeting your baby and he was a mix of anxiousness, nerves and excitement. Most of all he felt so much love and admiration for your determination and strength. Holding off on telling him you were in labor so he could be there to get the job done with his teammates was one thing and it was a complete whirlwind to be there with you while you worked to bring your baby into the world.

Once he was finally able to tear his eyes off the baby’s heart monitor, all of his focus was back on you. He wasn’t going to say anything but the agony in your voice was really starting to take a toll on him. Months of mental preparation for this moment was nothing like the real thing and he felt utterly helpless, desperately trying to maintain some sort of control and be helpful in any way.

“Honey you’re shaking, are you cold?” Without even giving you time to answer he was up on his feet, reaching for his bag to grab the blanket he’d seen you drape over yourself on several movie night occasions.

You shake your head while your teeth continue to chatter, reaching for his left hand, “I think it’s the adrenaline. I’m okay I promise,” you shift uncomfortably in bed, trying to just go along with how your body is feeling and reacting. Your belly tightens, a white hot pain generating an unexpected moan as you palmed your stomach. Justin places his hand on top of yours, whispering to you that the contraction is almost over and constantly reminding you that you’re doing great.

The two of you decided to use gravity to your advantage and walk around the building since the entire floor was closed off at your husband’s request. He couldn’t risk anyone leaking the most private and cherished moment in his life.

“I can’t believe this is our last night as a duo.” Justin whispers, walking at a snail’s pace while you waddled alongside him. “It’s been a great ride, pal.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And I have a feeling this ride is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out.” You gave your belly a soothing pat.

He strokes your back as you sway your hips again, “thank you for choosing me to be the one that gets to do this with you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, more than anything in the world.” You grin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His hand cups your face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss oozed joy and gratitude. Your husband wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes.

You squeeze his arm again suddenly as pain bubbles deep in your core and you rip yourself away from him to press your lips together to stifle a yell. “We need to get back to the room. Now.”

The noises leaving your body would have horrified you if you weren’t already sitting backwards on the toilet wearing only an oversized t-shirt, with your legs spread and the man of your dreams digging his thumbs into your back. “Harder please,” you groan, feeling like your tailbone is seconds away from shattering.

“I’m not getting a break,” you cry, clenching your jaw, leaning back and asking him to help you up. He hooks his hands under your arms and basically lifts you to your feet. “It’s not stopping, I can’t—oh fuck.” It felt like you were going to throw up, but out of the other end, which could only mean one thing. “She’s—Justin she’s coming right now. I have to push.” You took a breath and focused completely inward, your entire body going rigid, shaky straining sounds of effort pouring out of you.

The quarterback immediately sprang into action,“easy babe, breathe. I’ve got you.”

You held onto one of his hands and moved into a squat on your shaky legs as he pressed the red button on the side of the bathroom door, allowing your midwife to come in.

The baby felt like it was seconds away from falling out, everything suddenly feeling like it was moving a mile a minute. The midwife was saying something but the ringing in your ears was so loud you couldn’t focus on anything but getting your baby delivered.

After another throaty shove, you came back to yourself a little, feeling a gentle hand rubbing your shoulder. “Babe? You gotta slow down. Take a second, I can already see her a little bit you can give yourself some time.”

“I can’t, the pressure is too much!” Tucking your chin to your chest, you let out a yelp as you push again, using him as a solid wall to rest against as you spread your legs to give your baby more room. “Holy fuck your baby is huge,” your husband and the midwife both laugh, “I’m sorry it’s just—this is really hard.”

Pushing felt good, even though it left you shaking like a leaf in a cold and sweaty frenzy. At some point during the delivery he’d pushed your hair back with his lucky headband that was always around his wrist if it wasn’t on his head. It was the most intense experience of your life but you took one look at those bright green eyes and he reminded you that he was with you the entire time and you knew you could do anything with him by your side.

Remington Grace Herbert was born Monday morning at 1:42am with those exact same eyes that you fell in love with.

“Hi Remi,” Justin sobs, kissing her cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you, baby girl.”

“She sure knows how to make an entrance.”

You hand her off to her dad after scooting over to give him more room on the bed. He wraps a free arm around you, securely holding her in his other one, totally in awe. “She’s so perfect. You’re perfect. You did so amazing, I’m so freaking proud of you.” He kisses the side of your head.

You cuddle into him with a content sigh, “Our perfect little duckling is finally here.”

[misswynters]

Tag you’re it!

— short drabble

featuring. ekko x reader

Ekkos super lucky to have a cool and awesome partner like you in his life. He gives you his jacket <3 and i absolutely need him fr fr.

Zaun’s night was alive, a symphony of life and danger. Neon lights buzzed erratically, painting the streets in streaks of vibrant pinks and greens. The air was thick with humidity and the acrid stench of fumes rising from the ever-churning pipes of the undercity. You stood alone on one of the higher walkways, gazing down at the labyrinth of narrow streets below. It wasn’t safe to linger in one spot too long, especially not for someone with your reputation.

You adjusted the sleeves of the pink and black leather jacket you wore, Ekko’s jacket. It hung loose around your shoulders, the fabric worn and patched in places but still carrying the faintest scent of him. The shorts and cropped tank top you paired with it left your legs free to move. And an essential choice given your weapon of choice: rollerblades strapped snugly to your feet. It was fast, so fast that it left pink marks on its wake.

Below you, Zaun moved like clockwork. People shuffled between stalls, exchanging goods, whispers, and the occasional stolen glance over their shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, a fight broke out, the sound of shouts and the shattering of glass punctuating the night. You exhaled deeply, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Your girls weren’t with you tonight. The Indigo club, a group you’d built from nothing, had made a name for itself in Zaun. You helped the downtrodden, fought back against the gangs and chem-barons in your own chaotic way, and had fun doing it. For tonight though, you’d sent them home. Sometimes, the quiet helped. But it wasn’t working. The memories pressed against the edges of your mind, unrelenting.

The Enforcers had come without warning. You were only seven, sitting at the dinner table with your parents and siblings, laughing over some silly story your brother had told. Then came the shouts, the crash of boots against the door, and the sharp, metallic ring of gunfire.

Your family’s blood had stained the floorboards, and you’d been left alive, frozen in shock, staring into the lifeless eyes of your mother. That was when Silco had found you, a trembling, hollow child, and taken you under his wing. He’d molded you into something sharp and unbreakable, but even he hadn’t been able to keep you tethered. You’d escaped his world, too, carving out your own existence in Zaun’s shadows.

A sharp sound brought you back to the present.

“Gotta say, you wear that jacket way better than I ever did.”

You turned, a smirk tugging at your lips. Ekko stood a few feet away, his Z-Drive glowing faintly at his side. He looked at you the way he always did, like you were a storm he was more than willing to stand in the path of.

“Yeah?” you teased, placing a hand on your hip. “Could’ve fooled me. It’s a little big.”

He grinned, his gaze sweeping over you. “It’s not the jacket, it’s you. You make anything look good.”

“Smooth,” you replied, rolling your eyes. But you felt the warmth creeping up your neck.

Ekko stepped closer, his expression softening. “You okay? You’ve been out here alone for a while.”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady. “Just needed some air. It’s been quite a day.”

“More like a life,” he muttered, his tone bitter. He reached out, brushing his fingers against your arm.

You looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Atleast i’m not alone. I have my girls, and I have you.”

“And yet, here you are, by yourself,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe I wanted some company.” You shot him a sideways glance, a challenge in your eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I heard someone was lurking on the rooftops in my jacket,” he replied, smirking. “Thought I’d check it out.”

“Well, now that you’re here,” you said, stepping back and adjusting your rollerblades, “how about a game?”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of game?”

“Tag,” you said simply, your smirk widening. “You and me. I’ve got my wheels, and you’ve got your fancy time-travel thing. Let’s see who’s faster.”

Ekko crossed his arms, a playful light in his eyes. “You’re seriously challenging me? You know I can rewind time and i have a hoverboard, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “We’ll see how much that helps you when you’re eating my dust.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, you’re on. But don’t cry when I win.”

“Keep dreaming, Z-man.”

The game was chaos, pure and simple. You darted through Zaun’s twisting streets, the wheels of your rollerblades clattering against the uneven ground. Ekko chased you with his hoverboard, his Z-Drive whirring faintly every time he rewound a moment to close the distance.

You weaved between stalls, leaping over crates and sliding under low-hanging pipes with practiced ease. Ekko wasn’t far behind, his agility and quick reflexes keeping him on your tail.

“You’re not bad for a guy who can rewind time!” you called over your shoulder, laughing breathlessly.

“Ha! You’re not bad for someone I’m about to catch!” he shot back, his voice filled with exhilaration.

Just as he was about to grab your arm, you executed a sharp turn, ducking into an alley and out of his reach. His frustrated groan echoed behind you, and you couldn’t help but grin. The chase continued until you reached an open courtyard, the neon lights reflecting off the slick pavement. You skidded to a stop, panting but grinning triumphantly.

“Give up yet?” you teased, leaning on your knees.

Ekko appeared seconds later, breathing just as hard but with a smug look on his face. “You wish.”

Before you could respond, he lunged, wrapping an arm around your waist and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound echoing through the courtyard, as he set you down and held you close.

“I fucking adore you” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know you do,” you replied, your breath mingling with his. For a moment, the world seemed to slow. His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken connection between you.

“You’re it,” he whispered, tagging your side lightly.

“Cheater,” you murmured, but there was no heat in your words.

“That’s me,” he said with a grin, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. He knew he can never be on your bad side, i mean with the way he always looked at you. With those cute puppy brown eyes. Absolutely cute. Absolutely handsome indeed he was. You were lucky to have him in your life, treating you with the outmost respect and kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner. @anitalenia

[writerspirit]

Chapter I

Pairing(s): Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader

Series: Schemmenti Family Agenda

Synopsis: After a student makes a comment to Y/n, Melissa takes into consideration what the next steps in your relationship should be.

Themes/Warnings: Fluff, Angst (please let me know if there are any warnings to be aware of)

A/N: I first wrote this part in an early morning surge of energy. I've already started on part two, so be on the lookout for that. I've also started an outline for an Agatha Harkness/Agnes x Fem!Reader w/ "magic baby" trope.

WC: ~ 2.15k

Having kids wasn’t something you thought to ever be on the agenda. It never was with you and Melissa. Both you and her being elementary teachers for Abbott, the only kids you two ever talked about “having” were your students. It has been a nice flow between you professionally. You being the other first grade teacher in the school, a good amount of kids in your class progress to your wife’s classroom in their following school year. These handful of kids are called by the other teachers as the “Double Schemmenti” kids, which you and Melissa find endearing.

These little aspects of your life at Abbott make being a teacher for these kids the best job anyone could ask for. Not to mention having the role of being these kids’ mentor, even sometimes their parent, is a gift in itself. So, whenever babies were a thought, it was more of a subtle whisper, rather than a thought-provoking idea.

That is until Melissa walks into your classroom after school one day to find you with one of your students playing with the deck of cards she so graciously lent for the room. 

“Hey, honey,” she smiles, making her way inside.

“Mrs. Schemmenti!” Aspen squeals. “Mrs. Schemmenti is teaching me how to play Kings in the Corner. It helps with my counting.”

“That’s great, sweetheart.” The redhead looks over at his hand and smiles. “Maybe next year you’ll be able to get a good grasp on poker so that you can beat all the chumps at the table.”

Aspen gives her a quizzical look. You, a furrow of the eyebrows, telling her to test the waters. She mouths a ‘sorry’ along with a low smile. Bringing her attention to your cards, she chuckles. “I don’t know, Mrs. Schemmenti. I think the kid’s hand is just enough to rattle you outta luck.”

Aspen’s smile turns to a little dance in place, in anticipation for his next move. 

You bring yourself to feign a sigh. “I think you might be right. I just can’t believe Aspen is so good already, and it’s his first time playing.”

Melissa shuffles back next to Aspen, who glances at her before she nods. “Take her down, kid.”

He rushes for a card before calculating his line of moves to play. With what seems to be one swift motion, his cards disappear from his hand and onto the floor with the others. “I got ya, Mrs. Schemmenti! Victory is mine!”

You giggle along with him. “You got me!” You and Melissa dance with him, doing your own little dances in place. Once he’s seemed to settle down from his victory dance, you help him pick up the cards.

“Why don’t you practice your shuffling while I talk with Mrs. Schemmenti?”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll go sit at my desk.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a quick little guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is. Smartest kid in the class. Maybe the smartest I’ve ever taught.” You peek at him, seeing if he’s focused on the cards in his hand, which he is. “His mom is working a little late today. The divorce hasn’t been easy for either of them, so I told her that I can stay with Aspen a little later than the allotted time for pickup.”

Melissa sighs. “Don’t I know it. Divorce is tough. I can’t imagine the added stress of having a child during the process.”

You quickly take a look at your watch. “You don’t have to wait up for me. Janine and Ava have step practice today, and I’m sure I can catch a ride with one of them if you want to go home. I know you have grading to get done.”

“I can wait here with you and the little guy. Grading can wait a little longer, and besides, I don’t want you catching a ride with either of ‘em as long as I’m here. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I’d been responsible for another Janine car ride migraine.” Her lips perk up into a smile.

"I swear if I hear another lecture on the benefits of different colored highlighters, I’ll–"

“Mom!” Aspen squeals, getting out of his seat and running to his mother’s arms. She lays a soft kiss on his head.

“Hi, Aspen. How was school?” Dina’s eyes turn from his to yours. “Was he okay?”

You nod. “The little champ beat me in Kings in the Corner.”

“And I know how to shuffle now. So now I can help you when we play Uno.”

“Great job, honey. And I’m sure now you can help me beat Grandpa when he comes to visit next week.”

Aspen seemingly lights up brighter than before. “Grandpa’s coming? Yay!” He envelops her in a hug.

“Honey, why don’t you grab your things so I can talk to your mom?” Your eyes quickly glance at his belongings that sit on and around his desk. 

“I’ll give you two a minute.” Melissa moves towards Aspen. “I’ll help him get his things.”

“Thank you for everything. Really, you’re a lifesaver.” Dina lets a sigh leave her lips. “He’s really been doing great through this whole thing.”

“No disruptions, no problems. I wish I had his positive attitude all the time. And hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind getting beat at cards. He’s a smart kid.”

Dina smiles.

“I’m ready,” Aspen says. He walks up to meet his mother’s side, where she places a hand on his shoulder. “Mrs. Schemmenti?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You’re gonna make a great mom one day,” his smile widens before he says his goodbyes to you and Melissa. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, kid. We’ll see ya,” Melissa adds. She turns to you. “Ready to go?”

“Mhm,” you grab your bag’s handle, but it’s quickly taken away from you when the older woman grabs it. “Melissa, I can carry my stuff.”

“I never said you couldn’t.” She smiles as you grab hold of her arm.

Walking out of Abbott, you both send smiles and your own goodbyes to a few colleagues. Your hand never strays from her arm, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So what are you feeling like for dinner?” She asks.

“Are you asking because you feel like cooking, or are you asking me because you want to just order takeout?”

She chuckles. “I was actually asking because I could go for anything you wanted to cook.”

“Enchiladas, then.”

“Well, they’re your signature.” She places a kiss on your temple.

When you reach the car, she walks with you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you. “My lady,” she smiles watching you take your seat. She hands you your bag, and closes the door.

You reach over to the door and pull the door handle for her. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Anything for my girl,” you say. Her hand instinctively rests on your thigh as she starts the drive to your shared home. You move a hand to graze her arm.

“So,” Melissa starts up a new conversation when you hit upon a red light. “Aspen gave you a really nice compliment there, huh?”

“What?” You take a moment to think back. “Oh… yeah, he’s a really sweet kid. I hope you get to teach him next year. I mean he already loves you.”

Melissa turns the music up a bit, as your favorite song plays. While you’re jamming, she hums along, singing the words in her head. Unbeknownst to you, Melissa is thinking harder than she’d care to admit to about Aspen’s words. Had you given any thought to having a child of your own? She hasn’t expressed any interest in having a mini Melissa since she was younger, when her sister had her first baby.

As if the memory played out word for word, she remembers how crushed she was when, while holding her then baby nephew, Joe completely shut down the idea of growing their family. 

As if you know she needs a distraction of sorts, you speak up, taking her out of her thoughts. “Oh, honey, I think we need to stop at the grocery store. Is that okay with you?”

She nods and forces a smile for you.

– – – –

Melissa’s hand never leaves the small of your back while you push the cart. Along the journey of getting the ingredients necessary for your dinner, she looks around every aisle that you walk through. Almost finished with the aisle you two are currently in, you start your way towards the registers. As you wait in one of the lines, Melissa picks up bits of the couple’s conversation happening in front of her, talking about their excitement in welcoming their own bundle of joy in seven months. 

“Melissa?”

“Hm,” she turns her attention towards you.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been almost quiet since we left school. The only times I ever experience quiet Melissa is when you’re scheming. Well, that or you’re planning someone’s meeting with justice.”

“I’m fine, hon.” She places her hands on either side of your waist, and places a few light kisses on your temple. “I’m perfect.”

– – – –

“Amore,” she starts.

“Hm,” you hum, sipping your wine.

“Nothin’.”

“Baby,” you reach your hand and place it gently on her own. “What’s up?”

She has a glint in her eyes. One you’ve only seen two other times – when she was too nervous to ask you to be her girlfriend, and then again when she asked you to be her wife. By this, you know she has got something big on her mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, her voice not leaving a low tone. She focuses her attention on her plate, trying to collect her thoughts.

“Okay…” you start. “But I will. You have the look.”

“What look?” Her eyes bounce to you, now wide, awaiting your response.

“You’ve only ever looked at me twice like that before, and both times they were because you had something big to get off your chest. Now please…” You place your hand on her thigh. “What is it, Melissa?”

“You ever thought about maybe… I don’t know… it’s just us here. And sometimes I feel it. The… space.”

You stay silent, trying to piece together what she’s going on about. Was she getting sick of you? Was this marriage too much for her? She doesn’t skip a beat though. Her rambling is starting to sound like she is convincing herself of something, in hopes you’ll say what’s bothering her, so she doesn’t have to. That’s when in the midst of your spacing out, there is only one sentence that makes you freeze.

“Maybe an addition to us wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“You want to have a baby,” she can’t tell by your tone if you were stating it as if it were a fact, or rather forming it in a question. “Like… a baby.”

“No, wait, I didn’t say that,” her voice rises in pitch. “Per say.”

You wait a minute, in case she has more to say. “Okay…”

Crap! May day! May day! Retreat! Her thoughts tell her.

She downs the beer that is left in her bottle. Her hands grab for your plates and starts her way to the kitchen. “Just forget I said anything.”

“But, Melissa–”

“Please, just forget it, Y/n.”

– – – –

After dinner, you and Melissa snuggle up on the couch. Your face is nestled in her neck, giving soft kisses where you know she loves them. This would usually lead to you ravaging each other until the sunrise spills through your curtains. Tonight, however, doesn’t look like that is in the cards for you.

Your hand begins drawing patterns on her thigh, as you continue your kisses on her skin. “Your thoughts are loud tonight, my love.”

“Hon,” Melissa whispers, her voice almost impossible to hear over the television. As if on cue, the Dancing With the Stars theme sings for you. “Look, the show is starting.”

The rest of the night is much quieter than usual. Adding to your worry, Melissa doesn’t seem as enthusiastic about the episode as she usually is. There’s no yelling at the television, rarely a chuckle, and not even a snack to go with the episode.

As the episode ends, Melissa breathes a heavy sigh. “Ready for bed?”

You take a look at your phone which reads the time. “Yeah,” you say with simple directions. “Just… give me a minute and I’ll be up.”

She nods as she rises off the couch. She makes sure to place a gentle kiss on your cheek before heading upstairs.

At the sound of Melissa ascending the stairs, you quickly grab your phone. Opening your Contacts app, Barbara Howard’s phone number is already in view for you. With a second to think on a decision, a sigh leaves your lips, and the clicking of the power button shuts the device off.

Sleep on it. Whatever it is.

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 21 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: In the small town of Ogallala, you and Arthur nurture feelings for each other that become increasingly hard to deny with each passing day and each word spoken.

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one took me so long. I couldn’t get it quite right for weeks, and part of me hates to part with it anyway because I’m getting so close to the end 🥲 Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty-one of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Twenty-One: Love

Word count: 3726

This room was unlike the others. That airy barn had the memory of your childhood home and Beth on it, the last hotel room the sharpness of fear. You’d thought that that room would be the one to stay with you, but you tried to forget it now. Now, there was only this room, the safety in it, and Arthur. Maybe the latter two went hand in hand.

Your eyes found said safety in the growing darkness, watching him reverently in the low light. He’d lit a lamp earlier, and its golden glow reflected in his shining hair, his exposed skin, his gemstone eyes. You would never tire of that gaze. Normally, you found a smirk beneath it, but now his mouth matched his heavy stare—thoughtful and filled with something very close to desperation. It wasn’t difficult to guess why. Love did that to a person.

You had thought there would never be a feeling stronger than grief, stronger than the helpless agony that came with it. But love was the one thing to outweigh it. Rather, requited love was. Feeling wanted again was all your heart needed to stitch itself back together. To be loved was to be needed. And that triumphed grief every time.

You weren’t only thinking of yourself as you studied the man beside you. You thought of him and of how unlikely a match he was for you. But it was beginning to make sense. He, like you, was all wild animal, untamed, worth more than mankind could give. He wasn’t defined by the constructs of a normal personhood just as you weren’t. Neither of you were made for fleeting little relationships, if any at all. And perhaps that’s why it worked so well to be together, the feeling as natural as breathing. Because there were no expectations. He made sure of that, and you were too inexperienced and fond of him to form them. Being with a man emotionally or physically scared you before because it had always seemed confining. But you knew without a doubt that if you chose to go alone to the next town and never look back at this trip and all it brought between you, Arthur would let you. He wouldn’t hesitate. And because of that, he was freeing in a way no one had ever been to you. Not even your parents.

You were so caught up in his gaze and your thoughts that you were startled by the sudden sound of bootsteps opposite the door, flinching in his grasp as deputy badges and blood flashed across your vision.

“Easy,” he said lowly, pulling you in closer on the bed as the sound faded.

“Just…jumpy over the last time that happened.”

“Ain’t no law here to worry about,” Arthur said, stroking your hair.

He was right. And you were again reminded that this hotel room was very different from the last.

“I know,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite convince yourself after having lived through the hell that was the last town. That ringing gunshot that would never leave you be sounded again.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin so you would meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words hit you like a physical blow. His protectiveness made you feel loved, but it was the truth of it that drove his point home. Because you had no doubt he would tear apart the world to keep you safe. Just as you had. You’d broken every moral you had just to keep him from harm. But you would do it all again. And, knowing Arthur, you bet he felt the same thing tenfold.

You smiled against his hand. “I know.” This time, you meant it.

After a moment and a smile so sure you wanted to keep it there forever, Arthur shifted. “Sit up.”

You did as he asked, watching as he reached for his journal. Thinking he meant to draw you again, you blushed. Especially as there was no coat this time, just bare skin between you only partially covered by a blanket at your hips. But to your surprise, he reached for your hair and tugged on that horsehair braid he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of, flattening it so that he could see the contrasting colors better.

“What is it with you and this braid?”

He shifted again so that he was far enough away to get the general picture of you sitting there, though that wasn’t saying much in the tiny bed. He was still close, and you watched his eyes focus in on your braid as he flipped to a blank page and readied his pencil, ignoring your question completely.

Wanting to know what it meant to him, you pushed. “Hard of hearing?”

“I heard you,” he said, still focusing hard on your hair. A few seconds passed as he began drawing. You didn’t think he would answer you until he shook his head, continuing to look down at his journal as he spoke. “I draw things so I don’t forget ‘em. There are a few moments I’ll never forget when it comes to you, but that braid, I want to remember even after it’s gone.”

You were warmed by the sincerity in this, but your curiosity got the better of you. “What moments will you never forget?”

Again, he took a beat to answer. “Looking at your side all bruised and bloody and my shitty attempt at stitches holding it all together. When you said ‘how could you’.”

You’d forgotten that. It had been months, and somehow his words had you remembering how the wagon you’d woken up in after he had stitched you up made your skin crawl. He went on, dispelling any further thought about it.

“The first time you let me touch you. The way you said ‘don’t stop’.”

This one made your heart race. He still pushed on.

“When I killed those wolves and came back in the tent to find you with that look on your face, like you were ready to die. The way you pulled me to you.” He stopped drawing and looked up at you. “That was the first time I felt like you really cared whether I was there or not. The first time you wanted my comfort.”

It was true. It was the first time you’d relied on him in your brokenness, the first time clinging to him felt like healing.

You smiled at him.

He went back to penciling in his journal. “And,” he said, drawing the word out in that drawl of his. “You asked me for that horsehair like it was the last gift you could give that horse. I knew it right then, the kind of woman you was. Thoughtful and tough as hell.”

You’d thought nothing of the act at the time, at least not in the way it would be viewed by Arthur. It was natural. Maybe that was why he admired you for it.

He went on. “I didn’t realize I enjoyed getting to know the woman you was before all this mess until then. Until I thought you would slip away again. But then you came out of that tent with this braid in your hair…”

He stopped and admired it, a smile turning his lips. “And you was still with me. And I was…relieved. Happy, even. That braid shows that strength of yours.”

For the first time since arriving in this town, you felt like crying. But not over any sadness. He had a way with words that surprised you. Your eyes fell to the page, to the way he had drawn part of your braid with such tenderness. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he meant every word.

Unable to voice your thoughts, or perhaps wanting to hold what he’d said in your heart a little longer, you teased him instead. “So, when you drew me in that barn, what were you trying to remember then?”

His smile turned into a smirk, one you were all too familiar with. “How good you looked in my coat.”

His gaze was hot on your skin, growing wanting as he watched you. And in seconds, his journal was pushed aside and forgotten, traded for his want of you, his need to touch you, his desire. To be that desire meant so much to you that your heart pounded a heavy beat in your chest, like it wanted to be loved by him too, craving that closeness.

Falling into him, you granted your heart exactly what it asked for.

~

The days bled together, and Arthur had no intention of moving on to the next town. As long as you wanted to stay here, he would stay with you. The only bit of business he attended to in the meantime was sending a letter back to the gang, thinking it was likely they’d made it to Denver a while back and would stay until they heard from him. The thought made Arthur smile—that wild bunch on the edges of town, restless and ready to bound out of there at a moment’s notice. They weren’t meant for staying in a big town like that just as he weren’t.

The only trouble with the letter had been what to put in it. Arthur hadn’t known what to say to the group he considered family. He was torn between staying with you and going back to them, knowing either would serve him well. But he was leaning toward staying, starting a life he had only ever dreamed of. Every time he considered it though, it felt too good to be true. It always was when he was younger, and who was he to deserve it now? Had he really changed at all? The truth to that was no, he hadn’t. Maybe he could be decent, but he still had a past on him that he didn’t want catching up to you. But so did you now, killing that deputy. All things considered, he was left feeling even more confused every time he pondered it. So, his letter had been short and nondescript, stating where he was and to write back when and where the gang inevitably moved. He posted the letter and left all thought of it behind him, knowing going in circles about it all wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, he returned to you and vowed to keep his mind on you, on this time you shared together and how right it felt. No matter that, like always, the town and its memories would soon be behind you both.

It wasn’t difficult to keep you in the front of Arthur’s mind. You were a gift, something he didn’t deserve. And all this time spent with you kept him sated like he never had been, his restless heart daring to settle for the first time since he was a boy.

The day had reached its end with the two of you still in bed. Arthur had done exactly what you’d asked of him those days ago, teaching you all the ways he knew how to pleasure a woman. But this was perhaps different, as there never was any meaning behind it until he met you.

Even worse was your blunt curiosity and the things you asked that got him so hard he could hardly see straight. He figured the worst of it was when you’d asked him to teach you how to pleasure him. He was wrong. It was moments ago, when you’d turned to him with a blush on your face and asked if you could ride him. Well, those hadn’t been your exact words, but that was all Arthur could come up with now as you made to do the very thing.

His hands found your hips in seconds upon you climbing on top of him. It took everything in him to be gentle.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you said in a voice close to a whisper.

He found a lazy grin sneaking its way across his face, for the way your shyness showed, for the way you climbed on top of him anyway. Sure as ever.

“What?” you said upon seeing his smile.

“I like you on top of me,” he said honestly. Because he did. Nothing turned him on more. But he couldn’t go on without teasing you at least a little. “I like you wantin’ to ride me.” He squeezed your hips with his fingers, tugging you closer. Your face went bright red at those words.

“What’s the matter?” he teased.

You kept looking from his eyes to his mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. The smile on your face was timid, but it was blatant as the day was long that he’d called you out and you wouldn’t well deny it.

You wouldn’t meet his eye as you said, “I like it too.”

Arthur’s grin went wide, and he bucked his hips underneath you for good measure. Pure pleasure met him as he did, the movement against your slick like heaven.

You let out a little moan, bracing your hands on his chest as you made to line yourself up with him. He would never tire of the distracted look you got on your face, like his body and what he was doing to yours was all you could think about. It made a pride he could hardly contain take hold.

You reached your hand down and fisted him so gently he couldn’t stand it. That is, until the head of his cock slid into you, and you met his eye and sat completely, making him suck in a sharp breath. He still held your hips with gripping fingers, but it was all he could do not to focus solely on how deep he was buried in you, on moving fast and hard. Instead, he let you set your own pace as you watched him with a heavy gaze, your lips parting when you began to move up and down on him.

It was downright sinful, the feeling it brought him. He pulled you in tighter, moving his hands with your hips. Ignoring all else. He didn’t give a shit what he looked or sounded like, so long as you didn’t stop.

“Arthur?”

He met your eye, only able to do so since your tone had the hint of a question in it. You kept riding him, grating and slow, as you spoke. “I want to- oh…”

You drug the word out, your head falling back in your pleasured state. It was so goddamn arousing Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He held you down against him and bucked upward, hard, making you moan for him as your breasts started bouncing with how fast he moved. Fuck, that did it.

“Want to what?” he gritted out.

You looked downright erotic, your heavy eyes falling over him like sex given form as you answered, “Want to feel your release inside of me.”

Arthur slowed his pace, your words hitting him so hard he knew he would spill inside you anyway if he weren’t careful.

“Ain’t too smart, darlin’.”

“I don’t care.”

In this moment, he didn’t either. He didn’t care about the consequences, even though it would normally bother him after Isaac. If anything, he was in a place to be with you, to raise a child with you if it came to that. So to hell with all his usual fear and regret.

“You sure?” he grimaced, still pumping his cock into you as deep as he could.

“Yes. If you are.”

Surprising himself, he was.

Arthur lifted you up and off of him, needing to do what he’d been wanting to for some time now. Of all the pleasure the two of you had wrought from each other, there was one remaining untried thing Arthur felt was a bit selfish but knew you would get just as much enjoyment out of as he would. And he did that now, turning you so that you remained facing the bed as he crawled behind you.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please…”

“Please what?” Arthur pushed your shoulders down to the bed gently, the head of his cock meeting your slick again. He nearly shook in anticipation.

“Please take me. Hard.”

If that weren’t encouragement enough, Arthur slid into you so deep you tightened around him. “Christ,” he grimaced. Then he moved. And he had to close his eyes and focus hard to keep his release at bay.

Arthur rocked his hips fast, knowing the second he watched how perfectly your bodies met, this would be over. So he focused on you first, on the sounds you made and what you seemed to like best. You moaned the loudest when he gripped your hips again and fucked you harder, so he kept on, letting you feel just how much you affected him as he drove deep.

“Arthur,” you whined, his name so needy on your tongue he almost lost it.

“That’s it,” he said lowly, taking one hand away and moving it around you, his finger coming down on those nerves that made you buck against him.

That really made you cry out. And Arthur felt a pride like none other, a protectiveness and a possessiveness that made him want to spend inside you, make you his. His grip on you tightened as his finger swirled against you.

In seconds, your pleasure rocked through you, making those inner muscles of yours flutter and work against Arthur’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure took over. Then it was all feeling, all you at his mercy, pleading his name like he was actually worthy of this.

For once in his life, Arthur let go of all the control, all the responsibility and sense he held so close. He released it like a breath and took you like a man should take a woman, for the sheer purpose of desire and need and maybe even love. He shuddered then slid home one last time with your name on his lips, spilling inside of you as you continued to come down around him. It was comforting and fitting and so incredibly right that his chest caught at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

He wanted to repeat it back to you. But he stayed there silent, finally daring to look down at where you were met. And Christ, was it a sight, almost like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips, unable to resist wanting to keep his spend deep inside you. It was primal and perhaps idiotic of him, but he couldn’t help it. He already wanted to do it all over again.

You both breathed heavy and refused to separate, caught there in this moment that, if you were lucky, would never have to reach its end.

But end it did, only because your body was giving out. He hadn’t realized how hard he took you until then, until your muscles protested enough to make you begin to fall to the bed. He slid out of you and caught you, letting you down slowly. He rolled you onto your back, meeting your satisfied gaze. “You okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s all I ever wanted. And all I’ll ever want again.”

A smile turned his lips, catching him off guard. He never expected to smile after doing something so reckless, hope filling him where regret normally would.

“Good,” he replied. And you smiled back, the sight a tired thing. He leaned down and kissed you. When he broke away, the look you gave him hit him just as hard as all his arousal had. It was a look of complete trust. Like you’d found a home in him. He never thought he’d see the day a woman looked at him like that.

“Don’t know about you,” you said laboredly, “but I’m spent.”

He chuckled at just how spent he was, not bothering to reply as he wrapped you up in his arms to sleep. Nothing more than a man and the woman he loved, as normal a life as he could have ever imagined.

~

You and Arthur very much overstayed your welcome in the small town of Ogallala. Both of you mentioned leaving a time or two but could never quite convince yourselves to saddle up and do it. So you stayed, carving out a little life for yourselves filled with the ease of routine.

Eventually though, you could tell money was getting tight when Arthur began choosing dried meat over his preferred canned goods from the general store. It made you guilty enough to know it was time to move on. Maybe your end destination would be as kind to you as this town had been, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ending this precious time together. You hadn’t talked about it, but you were beginning to believe that Arthur would stay with you. So, holding onto that hope, you finally gave in to leaving.

“What, tired of my company?” he’d teased when you brought it up, both of you already at the stables visiting your mounts.

You shot him a look that warned of a swat to the arm but said, “Not even a little.”

That earned you one of those genuine smiles he rarely gave, like your words were healing him stitch by stitch. But he agreed, and the pair of you gathered up and mounted.

You watched the town slowly fall away into the distance as you left it, turning to look at it so many times Arthur laughed at you. “It ain’t going nowhere, you know.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“That’s what you’re always saying.”

He shot you a smirk that could tear down the world and every forlorn woman in it. How lucky you were that he was yours. You thought of telling him so, of telling him how much you cared for him, but your heart began racing, and the words died on your lips. Instead, you opted to tease him right back—his and your form of endearment. And his resulting happiness made you know that it was just as special to him as saying those three precious words.

_________

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[sparkylilacs]

told myself I wasn’t going to go on a rant, but here we are…

I don’t know why the new live action HTTYD exists besides money. Because it was always obvious to me that if HTTYD went live it would be to differentiate a more book centered remake.

I have pictured how it could work for years, dreaming of seeing my beloved arc of a small scrawny hiccup of a boy become King of the Wilderwest. Of becoming a hero the hard way. A series of two part episodes modeled after Netflix’s Series of Unfortunate Events.

Opening scene:

Setting a dark room lit by flickering candlelight. Viewers only catch glimpses of the room’s furnishings. Some items still stick out, a chess piece of the rough hewn desktop, a square shield just discernible leaning against it as well. In the center of the shot an old man is taking out a quill to write on his arm a bracelet glints slithering around his wrist. You only see the back of his head and his hand shakes slightly as he writes, “There were dragons when I was a boy” and a voiceover says the words (possibly in Norse for brownie points). As he reads out Hiccup’s first prologue the scene blurs into a gust of snow that clears to reveal a group of motley youths standing at the bottom of an imposing cliff face. Most of the boys are wearing little clothes despite the chill their skin reddening, but near the back of the group two smaller boys huddled near each other as a big wild bearded man yells out their instructions.

And every episode could follow that pattern of showing old Hiccup writing his journey, reading the epilogues and prologues with more little bits and pieces revealed in the room as the series progresses. Like showing old Hiccup’s chest to see he is still wearing Snoutlout’s gold star. And the best part of a long series like the books is that having the actors age throughout is a plus not a minus since Hiccup and his friends start as kids but end as young adults.

Finally the last epilogue once Hiccup sets down the quill and places the pages in a sturdy wooden chest locking it shut, a noise makes him look to the window where something is scratching. He makes a pleased gasp to let in Toothless who is as much the same as he was all those years ago.

But that isn’t quite the end after the first credits the screen goes black to saying “Many Years Later”. A clear day on a quiet beach comes into focus, a young blond girl maybe 8 or 9 is digging in the sand. In the distance getting closer her father is calling to her. Something about a bird’s nest he just climbed up the cliffs to see and he wants to point it out to her. Ignoring him the girl digs deeper and *thunk* her shovel hits something solid. Scraping it out she reveals the sturdy wooden chest, old and weathered itself now. “What’s that?”, her father asks now behind her. “I don’t know, what do you think could be in it?”. “I’m not sure,” he replies, “but let’s find out together,”.

El Fin

Sorry that got sooo long. Rant over I promise, had to get that out before I exploded!

[cavedraconem]

Local Maximums

A while back I read an opinion piece my a woman who was upset about the state of grocery shopping these days. I can't really disagree with the basic premise that food in NZ is too expensive and this causes a lot of trouble for people who are living paycheck to paycheck. And shopping at the supermarket can be pretty stressful for a variety of reasons!

BUT, when the writer started to describe her shopping process... it was a massive odyssey. Of a Saturday she was dragging herself and her kids through multiple different shops - a Pak n Save, a Countdown, a fruit & veggie shop, maybe even a butcher as well - looking for the cheapest everything to stretch her budget, the particular whatever her husband wanted, the brand of snacks that her autistic child would eat. Of course she was sitting in traffic and fighting for parking and struggling with the kids and navigating trolleys at every single one of these locations. It sounded incredibly stressful! And she was incredibly stressed about it by the time she got home (and so were the kids).

"Surely just buying food shouldn't be this difficult?" she cried. And, well... no, I don't think it should be. Obviously I don't know every detail of this woman's life and I probably have extreme DINK privilege, but the ordeal she tried to pose as relatable seemed to me largely self-inflicted. Some of these issues seem trivially solvable: if you know your kid will only eat one type of snack, why wouldn't you just buy ten boxes at once? Can you plan ahead and click & collect any of these shops so you don't have to drag the kids around the supermarket itself? Can you pop out by yourself on a quiet evening?

And then we get into some more speculative cost-benefit questions that will depend on the exact details. Are the vegetables from the fruit & veggie shop cheaper enough to make up for the petrol you spend driving there? (Petrol is also expensive in my beautiful country.) What value do you really place on your time and stress? Is the money saved or the special thing for your husband really, genuinely worth the effort? If you are doing all of this work to save money, could you instead work a bit more to earn more money instead? Add a couple of extra hours a week onto your contract so you can afford to shop at a nicer supermarket or get groceries delivered, and save that much time or more on the weekend, plus less screaming from your children.

(By the way, I got that last idea from an old flatmate of mine. His philosophy was that it was better for him to work an extra hour every night and get takeaways for dinner than to spend that hour cooking something cheaper but not very good. I would have been more convinced by this [and his related opinions about division of labour] if he hadn't been allowing his PhD student girlfriend to cook him literally three meals a day.)

Anyway, this writer spectacularly failed to make her problems relatable to me, but there probably is something to be learned here. It's about how easy it is to reach a local maximum in your life: where you look at what you're doing and think, this is the best way I could possibly be doing it. But you're wrong! Maybe you've optimised your routine along one axis (e.g. cost) but totally neglected other axes (e.g. time/stress). You're making tradeoffs that you don't realise you're making. Things that you think are non-negotiable might actually be pretty easy to compromise on. It can take an outside perspective and a bit of convincing or experimentation to even realise that other possibilities exist, and maybe some of them are even better than what you're doing now.

So, in the end it's a good reminder to me to question my routines and ask whether I've trapped myself in any local maximums. What is stressing me out now that could be easier? Does everyone else have so much trouble with this? What opportunities am I missing? Surely it shouldn't be this difficult?

[librarycards]

Jenny Odell: I sometimes feel that in an individualistic culture, people get freaked out by the idea of being tied down or responsible for anything. Thinking about a gift economy, they might say, “I want the gift part but not the accountability part.” Lately, I’ve been volunteering in this native plant restoration group, and one of the most surprising parts has been how enlivening it is to help keep something else alive (I’ve never had a garden before). Sometimes I truly can’t tell whether I’m giving or getting. What are some ways that you see participation in a gift economy changing the participant’s sense of herself and her place in a network? In other words, is participation itself part of the gift?

RK: Yes. Exactly. Participation is part of the gift, where giving and getting meld into one another. A garden teaches you that every day. Gifts and responsibilities are always coupled to each other.

Of course, you’re right that given our hyper-individualistic culture, many people are not eager to embrace responsibility. Its often confounded, I think with the notion of “obligation”. Obligation feels to me like an involuntary demand on our time and energy, imposed from outside without the assurance that you’ll benefit in return. I’m sometimes reluctant about that, too. But, responsibility is an invitation to respond to need, an opening to reciprocity in which the benefits flow both ways. The benefits of participation in a gift economy are not only flowing to the gift recipient but the giver as well. Working on your restoration project, or any other gift exchange strengthens your own sense of agency, doesn’t it? It awakens care and compassion, builds relationship and nurtures your own identity as a person of capacity, of having enough abundance in your life that you can share it. I think it contributes to a sense of purpose, which we know is good medicine. It reminds you that you matter, that you’re part of something. That’s a big reward.

I find that some of the times that I feel most fully alive are in experiences of shared physical work in community with others. Like an old-time husking bee or shared planting. We’ve lost so many of the opportunities for that and gift economies provide the opportunity to work in common, to satisfy the need for belonging. And when that work is on the land and the benefits flow into our neighborhood of many species, the benefits are multiplied beyond the boundaries of ourselves.

JO: There is a really beautiful analogy you draw between the economy of nature and the human gift economy. Asking what in the gift economy functions as the “sun”–the constantly replenishing source of energy���you speculate: “Maybe it is love.” Reading this, it occurred to me how love is in essence a surplus, the force that gets things going. Could you speak more to the emotional and practical role that things like love and gratitude play in a gift economy? And how do they change the way we see “resources”?

RK: The fundamental currency of a gift economy, is relationship, not money. I suppose it’s what some people call “social capital”, but I’m not fond of that term. Participation in a gift economy could create a whole continuum of relationships, from the warmth of being cared for or an expanded sense of justice to just plain neighborliness. This can create a sense of security because mutual reliance grows from gift exchange. There is a sense of satisfaction in being able to give, and a sense of kinship in being able to receive, when we share the mutual acknowledgment of human vulnerability. For me, that continuum of relationships includes the possibility of a currency of love and gratitude that motivates the gift exchange, which is the source of the flow, between people and between people and the earth as well.

Gift-giving is a way of saying “I see you.” I see what you need and I see what I have to share. My well-being is tied to yours and yours to mine. It develops a trust that when I am in need, there will be abundance shared with me. The giver and the recipient are honored at the same time. That seems a lot like love to me.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, interviewed by Jenny Odell, Gift Thinking. [emphasis added]

[y-so-hungry]

could you do 💙? for any of your OCs, i love your writing! :)

This was written in the spanse of about three hours in a horny fever dream. It's got my OC Adam with @lotsa-viscera 's OC Joseph!

Content: lots of hunger, eventual NSFW (masturbating), hungry character eats at the end!

Blue Food, Blue Belly

“Blue?” Adam moaned, scratching his brown beard as his top lip curled up at the word on his screen. Joseph was away visiting family, and had proposed a game to play long distance. Joseph would send a color, and Adam could only eat foods of that color for the day. 

The worst part is, food coloring didn’t count. Or at least, it didn’t count if he put it in. Sure he could eat blue lollipops all day but a pancake with a couple drops of food dye mixed in the batter? No dice. Had to come out of the package blue as the sky itself. 

Adam’s stomach rumbled and he put a hand on it, feeling the vibration under his fingers. Who knows how the hell he would work with this.

Adam started looking around in the cupboards for his breakfast. Somehow he could see nearly every color of the rainbow in here, except blue. Blue packaging, yes, obvious by the hunger pang he felt looking at the blue package of cereal. But blue food? If only Joseph had sent brown, then I’d be having a goddamn feast, he thought. 

He checked the fridge next, and didn’t find much better. It was only when he looked in the freezer that he found something that might work: frozen blueberries. 

His stomach gurgled at the sight, seeming to understand that Adam had found it’s meal. He sighed, getting out the blender. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he could put more into the smoothie? He had some protein powder, and milk, and those would be blue when mixed with the blueberries, right?

It would have to be right, because there was no way he was eating ONLY blueberries for breakfast. The smoothie probably wouldn’t be enough by itself anyways, Joseph would still get the hungry belly he wanted. 

So Adam set about making his smoothie, his stomach giving the occasional rumble along the way. He poured in the milk, blueberries, protein powder, and ice, and began pulsing the blender until the mix became smooth. But as he did so, his heart sank. 

The smoothie was obviously, undeniably, purple. Not blue. Honestly he wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten, there’s not really naturally blue foods, they’re usually actually purple, and blueberries were the classic case. He sighed, leaning back against the counter, rubbing his belly as it gave a mournful rumble. It was getting deeper now, the growls shaking his hand harder. 

Adam sighed, wondering what the hell Joseph expected him to eat. Clearly he must’ve thought he could eat something since he didn’t just skip over the color, but what blue foods did Joseph know of that Adam didn’t?

The tan fingers of Adam’s hand dug into his belly as he thought, trying to think back in his mind to a time where he might’ve seen Adam eating something blue. There was blueberry muffins, blue corn tortilla chips, blue lollipops, and… a blue drink?

He could remember it now, Joseph had been drinking a blue tea of some kind, and called Adam over to see something. He watched as Joseph squeezed a lemon over the tea, and it turned bright pink. 

Joseph quickly moved over to the cabinet where Joseph kept his tea, and there! Butterfly pea flower powder! Adam laughed in triumph and quickly pulled it out. There wasn’t much left so he dumped the rest of the bag in and pulsed the blender. 

Lo and behold, the smoothie began turning a brilliant bright blue. His stomach moaned loudly at the sight, and he quickly poured a large glass full, chugging it until a sharp pain went through his head. 

“Ow! Fuckin brain freeze…” Adam muttered. He looked at the clock as the pain went down and sighed. It was almost time for him to go to work, no time to stop by somewhere and see if he could get a proper blue breakfast. 

Not that he knew of many places that served blue pancakes. Or blue croissants. Blue breakfast burritos…

His stomach moaned again, grumbling thickly around the few gulps of smoothie in it. He texted Joseph a picture of his small breakfast before downing the rest. Dammit… I’m still hungry.

He sighed and went to his room to get dressed. 

~~~

Adam was shelving books at the bookstore when his stomach rumbled again. The smoothie had only lasted him a couple hours, even with the protein powder in it. Luckily it hadn’t gotten loud yet, but the hunger still gnawed at his belly. He wished Joseph was here, he would be able to rub his belly, tease him for the noises it made… If he had to be hungry it would at least be nice to have someone there to tease him for it. 

“Excuse me sir?” Adam jumped and turned to see a woman standing there, holding up a book. “Do you know if I could return this book? I didn’t notice one of the pages was ripped until I got home.”

Adam glanced at the book and felt his stomach shift ominously. It was a cookbook. On the front was a picture of some kind of grilled sandwich, bright and so, so delicious looking…

“Oh, um, yes, of course!” Adam led her to the counter, where he started the return. The whole time he could feel his stomach shifting hungrily, and all he could do was try and get through it as fast as possible and silently beg his stomach not to make any noise. 

Eventually the transaction finished and he handed her a return receipt with a smile.

“Thank you, have a good–”

*Groooooooowwwwwlll*

Adam’s face blushed under his dark skin, a hand instinctively moving up to clutch his belly. 

“Hungry?” the woman said with a laugh, apparently not minding the interruption. Adam however hoped the ground would open up and swallow him. 

“Heh, a bit! My break is soon though so I can eat then!”

She laughed and waved goodbye, but as soon as he was out of sight Adam groaned and put his head in his hands, fingers scrunching up in his long wavy hair. His stomach rumbled again and he slapped a hand to it. 

“Shut up.”

~~~

A couple hours later and it was finally lunchtime. Adam could hardly stand it now. His belly was rumbling so much his coworker had sent him on his break early, and his ears still felt hot from the interaction. He held his stomach in his hands, feeling it growl desperately under his fingers. It felt so good in some ways, but goddammit he wished he could properly enjoy it. His mind was caught between work, his starved belly, and all the horny thoughts that come with said starved belly. 

The grocery store right next to his work wasn’t helping much either. He was walking around, looking for a blue food to eat, but that meant he also had to walk past microwave pasta meals, meat and seafood, the entirety of the snack aisle that made his stomach moan louder than it had all day. Each growl felt like it was getting louder by the minute, and he couldn’t tell if his knees were weak from arousal or hunger. Probably both. 

There were few times he felt lucky to be trans but this was one of them. He was hard as a rock but at least he didn’t have to try and hide it. 

In the end he turned down the chips aisle and found a large bag of blue corn tortilla chips. Blue enough for me, he thought. He also went and got a blue gatorade as well. It was his least favorite flavor but being so hungry he figured maybe it would help. He also bought some packets of blue kool-aid, and blue takis, and some blue sour candies. Guess that’s dinner then. Especially since they were out of that blue tea at home, couldn’t pull off that trick again. 

Eventually Adam settled down in the breakroom and began eating, hungry rumbles sounding between each chip he stuffed in his mouth. Eventually his stomach quieted down a bit though, especially as he guzzled down the gatorade, muffling the rumbles under the weight of the liquid. 

But just as he thought he might actually be able to eat enough to be full, he put his hand in the bag and found… nothing. His heart sank as he looked inside and found only crumbs. He sighed and checked his watch. 4 more hours until he could go home. 

He texted Joseph a picture of what he ate and then sighed and threw away the empty bag and bottle, rubbing his stomach and hoping maybe this would last him longer than the smoothie had. 

~~~

The noises Adam’s stomach was making on the drive home were so loud he could hear it over his music. His dick throbbed at a particularly loud growl and he shifted in his seat. It felt like every sound was going straight to his crotch. 

When he finally got home he tore open the bag of takis and ate them as he set down his things, stomach howling with each bite he swallowed. It wasn’t long though before those were gone, as the bag was even smaller than the bag of corn tortilla chips. Soon the sour candies and kool-aid were gone too, and he sat back on his couch with a heavy sigh. 

Still not enough. 

It made sense, he was a big guy. He worked out often, and even though he skipped his workout today it seems his body was desperately missing the calories it normally got. But he was out of blue food today. This was all he would get. 

It was only an hour later when his stomach growled again. 

He’d been looking at cooking videos. A terrible idea given the circumstances but gods he was hungry. It was all he could think about. It came in waves, the sound rolling in his stomach like thunder. He pressed his hand into his stomach and bit his lip, swallowing hard as it moaned against his hand. He was so hungry, stomach shaking and growling so much…

Adam was about to reach down his pants when his phone suddenly rang. 

It was Joseph. 

“Hey baby,” Adam said. 

“Hi! How ya doin?” Joseph answered. 

“Ugh, fucking starved.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, my stomach’s been growling all day.”

“Aww, poor hungry boy. Blue food’s not enough to fill that belly is it?”

“Of course not, but you knew that.”

Joseph laughs. “I sure did. Your stomach must be making so much noise.”

As if on cue, Adam’s stomach gave a desperate rumble, loud enough to shake his ribcage. 

“Wow,” Joseph said with a laugh. “You sound starved.”

“I am,” Adam groaned. “I’m so hungry. You could probably hear my stomach even if you weren’t on the phone with me. It won’t stop rumbling, Joey!”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re hungry.”

Adam laughed, and his stomach growled again. His dick throbbed again and he groaned. “Gods it’s turning me on too, fuck…”

“Oh? Getting excited from your own stomach are you? Usually it’s my stomach getting you all riled up.”

“Well with you gone I gotta stoop to a lower level now don’t I?” Adam teased. His stomach rumbled in protest however, pulling him back to the space between his legs. “Mmh, fuck…”

“Hey, why don’t you go get that vibe I bought you? The blue one?” Joseph said, his voice low and smiling.

“Hm? Oh, the one you said had a ‘surprise’ with it?” Adam said, shaking his head doggedly to clear it of the arousal. 

“That’s the one.”

It took a moment for Adam to find it, but eventually he did, and got undressed, laying down on his bed. 

“Now how the fuck do you turn it–”

Suddenly the vibrator turned itself on in his hand, a low, rumbly buzz. 

“It’s remote control,” Joseph said. “Figured it would be fun for while I’m gone.”

Adam grinned. “You’re damn right.”

He put it against himself and immediately moaned with pleasure. His stomach growled again, making his dick throb against the vibrator. 

“Good boy,” Joseph murmured into the phone. “Hungry thing, aren’t you? You barely got anything to eat today.”

“Mmh, I’m so hungry, I can’t stop thinking about food,” Adam sighed, his breath heavy. 

“Getting so worked up will only make you hungrier won’t it? Poor thing you won’t be able to catch a break.”

Adam’s stomach growled again, and his back arched, drawing out the sound even deeper. 

“Aww, your stomach is begging for food isn’t it. I bet you wish you could have all your favorites. Especially meat, you poor thing, I bet a nice, juicy, red steak is just what your belly needs right now.”

“Mmh, fuck, Joseph, I’m so hungry, I want that so bad–”

The vibrator suddenly kicked up a notch, buzzing harder against him and shifting in waves, making him gasp and squirm on his bed. 

“Oh gods, oh that feels good,” he panted. His stomach groaned desperately again with the increase in his heart rate, and he gave a breathy laugh. “My belly doesn’t like that at all–mmh.”

“I bet it doesn’t. Poor thing doesn’t want you getting so worked up,” Joseph said. “All it wants is something warm and filling, but all it’s gotten are chips and berries. Not nearly enough to fill you up, big boy.”

“F-Fuck, Joseph, I think I’m gonna–”

“Mmm, not yet, hold on a little longer, I want your belly to growl one more time. Really show me how hungry you are.”

“I-I’ll try, this thing has a mind–fuck–mind of it’s own though, I don’t know if–”

*GROOOOOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLL*

“That’ll do it,” Joseph said, and suddenly the vibrator kicked it up one more notch, rumbling hard against Adam’s dick and he gasped, unable to hold back anymore and he came, waves of pleasure shaking his legs and arching his back. 

It was a minute two later before Adam found the ability to speak properly again, panting out a few words at a time. 

“That… felt so good… fuck… ugh my stomach…”

“You okay?” Joseph asked, his voice now the more gentle one he had when helping Adam in aftercare. 

“Yeah, just hungry,” Adam laughed. 

“Of course,” Joseph said, laughing himself. “I already ordered you some doordash, it should be there in a few minutes. Just make sure you’re wearing pants when you go to the door. It’s your favorite Chinese place.”

“I thought I was only supposed to eat blue food?”

“Yeah, but I’m not dumb, I’m not making you go to bed hungry,” Joseph said, and Adam could almost hear him roll his eyes. “You were good today, you deserve a nice reward. Also you need it, that’s how humans function and all that.”

“‘And all that,’” Adam echoed, sitting up slowly, still feeling a bit dazed from arousal. “Thanks Joey. You’re the sweetest.”

“Ya damn right,” Joseph said. “Now go eat, I don’t want you going to bed until every last noodle is in that belly.”

Adam laughed. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

[maxdibert]

Look who's back, I hope this isn't bothering you, but my friend really thinks that suffering violence doesn't justify being a violent person and I really need to talk to someone about Severus.

Not long ago I asked my mother with exactly these words “if a person grew up amid violence and only suffered violence, is it abnormal for them to be violent?”.

And she said: Not always, it depends from person to person. Some will be different from the experiences and environment they lived in, while others will not. But the chances of a child who has suffered violence also being violent is 98%.

And it made me think about how people see Severus as an exception and not a statistic. And, for some reason, they make it a competition of traumas and belittle his suffering because he is not a perfect victim who swallows his spite, forgives those who hurt him and pretends that everything is fine when it is not.

Experiencing violence doesn’t justify being violent, but it can explain it. There’s a substantial difference between justification and understanding. The reason why someone is the way they are doesn’t mean that behavior is acceptable, but it helps to understand their character. This is essential if you’re working with that person professionally, for example.

That said, this has many nuances because experiencing violence is just one of many factors that can lead to antisocial behavior. If violence occurs in isolation and the victim has resources and support, the likelihood of them developing violent behaviors is significantly lower. For example, take an average bullying victim. They may have suffered a lot at school, but that’s just one part of their life. What if they had a group of friends outside school? What if they had a stable relationship with their parents? And if none of that happened, what if they found a safe space with people who respected and valued them when they went to university? The environment is crucial both for healing trauma and for the development (or prevention) of problematic behaviors. The problem for victims of violence, in terms of their cognitive development, isn’t so much the violence itself but the resources and tools they have to heal afterward. And healing requires many factors.

Severus represents the case of a victim of violence who suffered it not just in one environment but in all of them. As a child, he experienced abuse at home, and as a teenager, he was bullied at school. He comes from an environment where he has no tools to cope with that violence because he grew up extremely poor, and his parents were participants in the abuse. The abuse continues at school, where bullies make his life hell, and once again, the adults around him not only fail to intervene but either force him to keep quiet or even reward his abusers (James being made Head Boy, for instance). He grows up in an environment where violence is normalized, and the adults in his life constantly justify or validate it. The only people who accept him are the Death Eaters, who are themselves a highly violent group. Everything around him during the most crucial stages of his cognitive development fosters not just a normalization of violence but a justification of it.

When he leaves the Death Eaters, instead of finding an understanding environment where he can start fresh, discover himself, build friendships, and maybe construct a new life, he is trapped in the same school that was a nightmare for him, with no tools or ecosystem that might allow him to heal or attempt to overcome his trauma. Dumbledore doesn’t help; he treats Severus like a soldier, trapping him in that violent cycle with his role as a double agent and feeding his guilt precisely to make him more effective for his plans. Severus isn’t a colleague; he’s a tool.

In my opinion, if he had been able to escape all of that, focus on his own life, and build something for himself, yet still remained violent, then his behavior would be absolutely inexcusable. He would have had opportunities. He would have had the chance to choose to change but refused to do so. However, a person with Severus’s past, environment, and position had no opportunity to change because he lacked the space or means to do so. No one offered him a hand. He was alone, he had nothing, and when someone finally gave him something, it was only to imprison him in the cage of his demons and use him for their own ends. He couldn’t escape from that.

It doesn’t make sense to blame someone for being resentful when their entire life has revolved around an endless cycle of suffering. People like that never end well.

[decaffeinatedcupcakekid]

If I had to change something about Boruto, it’d be the characters. Not that they don’t have a good basis, it’s just that their potential was absolutely wasted. They feel soulless. Like they have no personality whatsoever.

And I know that factually they’re all very unique like Chocho, Sarada and Kawaki, they all have the potential to be very motivating characters in their own right.

Except they aren’t.

Kawaki is a mirror to Sasuke, we’re meant to see him as Boruto’s rival with a tragic backstory. A brother, a sun and moon narrative that’s a complete replica of Sasuke and Naruto.

And that’s where the problem lays. They’re all just replicas of someone else. The og series also had this issue of making new characters like old ones e.g. Sakura & Rin, Sasuke & Madara etc. but those were actually well done. This is just a cash grab trying to replicate the previous series.

The Boruto series should stop trying to be something it’s not and actually embrace itself as a new idea while also NOT ruining previous characters. Ame was left in ruin, something Naruto never would’ve stood for, the boy we grew to love in the previous series is unrecognisable. And I get it, people change, which would’ve been cool and all to see if it wasn’t so poorly done.

For what reason does Naruto genuinely have to act like this? Yeah, he has a village to run that’s been booming ever since the war, except he has advisors in Ino, Shikamaru, Sakura and literally every clan head is on his side. His village is best friends with every other village. There is hardly any conflict. And you’re telling me he can’t come to his children’s birthday party? Mr ‘I want to be Hokage so people won’t look down on me’? But also he wants that because he has no family so he wants the villagers to love him. And he forsakes his family, who’ve loved him since the beginning, so easily?

They ruin old characters to the point where they may as well be from another universe because if they were half the people they actually were, that’d stop the conflicts before they start. And yeah, maybe the previous main character overshadowing the new one is a bad thing, I get that.

But if they were going to character assassinate Naruto as a way to solve this, I’d rather they have him killed before the main Boruto series started. That’d cause conflict. The pillar of peace just dying. Or like, anything else. There was no need to ruin Naruto for a soulless series like Boruto that only focuses on power ups.

And I know there’s going to be people who think the power ups are cool, that the two blue vortex is actually kind of cool. But that’s because literally every other character from the Naruto series is gone so that they can’t overshadow Boruto.

Naruto and Hinata? In another dimension. Kurama? In Himawari and weaker. Sasuke? In a tree. Gaara? Also in another dimension. Everyone is gone, and yeah, it’s tragic, but the shock effect wore off after Sasuke, it’s overdone now.

Every single character with depth is gone or hardly in the series. Sakura gets to stay because she’s a medic ig but as soon as Sarada needs a more dramatic route to her story, I guarantee she’s getting sealed off too.

The authors are scared to kill off actually important characters from the og series but are more than willing to ruin them. Everything is about them. Not Boruto.

No one was going to be happy with Boruto, I get that, people hate sequels. But the genuine apathy radiating off of that work kills me. The shock factor is over, move on.

I have so much more to rant about but I’ll end it here or I’ll never stop.