#she really could have done with a line or two

[kysstar]

SALT ON YOUR CROWN | CHAPTER TWO : : SILK TO STITCH

pairing : : pirate!kim hongjoong x princess!reader

series synopsis : : a pirate crew kidnaps the wrong girl—princess instead of merchant’s daughter. she offers gold for hiding, not ransom. captain hongjoong agrees, reluctantly. she’s fire on his ship, danger to his rules. one month aboard may ruin them both.

genre : : pirate au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, captor x captive (kinda?)

chapter warnings : : mention(s) of 'y/n', alcohol, wooyoung being a little shit but we been knew

word count : : 5.6k

[series masterlist]

—It might’ve been dawn. You couldn’t really tell.

The sky was caught in that gray in-between, where the stars had slipped away, but the sun hadn’t committed to rising yet. You stood at the very back of the ship, alone, leaning over the gunwale where the wood was cold and slick under your palms. No voices. No footsteps. Just the groan of the ship and the wind threading through your hair, undoing the work of the maids who had fussed over it hours ago.

The wind tugged at your gown, already wrinkled and stained. Crimson silk looked foolish now—too formal, too loud, too royal—on a ship where boots thudded, knives clinked against belts, and no one wore red unless it was blood.

Your hair had come undone hours ago. It whipped around your face, strands catching in your lips, your lashes. You didn’t fix it. You didn’t care. The chill clung to your skin like a second dress, biting under your collar, threading cold fingers through your spine.

The ocean stretched in all directions—endless, silent, godless. There was no shore in sight. No torchlit palace. No Jisoo. No Taeyang. Just the ache in your head and the bruises forming quietly beneath your skin.

You’d made a decision. And now you weren’t sure what kind.

At the time, it had felt like freedom. It had tasted like air after suffocation. One ring for one choice. A simple trade.

But now?

You’d begged to stay on a ship full of criminals. Men who kidnapped people for money. Who carried guns and blades and didn’t blink when they used them. Who tied you up without hesitation and laughed while doing it. You didn’t know their rules. You didn’t know what line you’d have to cross to lose their mercy. If they even had mercy.

What if they changed their minds? What if that captain—Hongjoong—got bored of playing your game and decided you weren’t worth the trouble?

You had no crown here. No guards. No brother to defend you. You were a girl with nothing, floating somewhere between life and death with people who knew how to throw bodies overboard without leaving a splash behind.

What had you done?

You tried to remind yourself: anything was better than being sent back. Anything was better than Chanwoo. That palace. That lie of a life.

But fear had a different voice. A quieter one. It whispered through your bones now, asking the question you hadn’t wanted to consider until the sky turned gray.

What if you made the wrong choice?

You gripped the edge of the ship harder, fingers aching, knuckles pale beneath the cold. The sea below rolled slow and dark, thick with quiet threat. The kind of quiet that pressed too close, like it was waiting to swallow you if you so much as leaned too far forward.

Footsteps approached behind you—soft, deliberate. Not the kind that stumbled. You didn’t turn right away.

Then came the shift in weight, the low creak of wood, and a figure leaned beside you on the gunwale—his posture easier than yours, arms folded, the picture of someone used to standing on a swaying deck without bracing against the motion.

You turned your head slowly.

He had platinum-blonde hair that looked silver in the early dawn light, wind-swept and effortlessly neat in the way only pirates and wolves could be. His face was sharp, elegant even—cheekbones that could cut, eyes narrowed slightly, the sort of man who didn’t need to speak often to be heard. There was no warmth in his gaze, but no cruelty either.

“Your Majesty,” he said, dry as the salt wind. “You’ve been standing here long enough to freeze the blood in your toes.”

You smiled faintly, despite yourself. “It’s Highness, actually.”

That made him turn to you, one brow raised. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No,” you replied, “Majesty is for kings and queens.”

He scoffed, mouth twitching into a snarky half-smile. “Right. Royalty and their rules.”

You paused, letting the wind play between the silence. “Do pirates have roles?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Of course we do.”

You glanced sideways at him. “What’s yours?”

“I’m the first mate,” he said simply. “The captain’s right hand.”

“And if someone called you by the wrong one,” you asked, glancing at him, “would you correct them?”

He looked at you, brow raised, caught in the question’s hook. “Yeah. I would.”

“Then why is it wrong for me to do the same?”

He didn’t answer. You turned back to the sea, its endless blue-black stretch far easier to talk to than the man beside you. But he didn’t leave.

“Why don’t you want to go back to your kingdom?” he asked finally.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

He leaned on his elbows beside you, patient in that pirate way that said he had time—time and nowhere better to be. “Try me.”

You looked at him, really looked this time, and said, “My parents want to marry me off to a prince, Lee Chanwoo.”

His nose wrinkled, and he actually winced. “Didn’t he…?”

“Kill his last two wives?” You smiled faintly, sadly. “Yes.”

“And they still want you to marry him?”

You nodded, voice low. “They want the alliance. It’s only possible if I marry him. My brother—he’s the crown prince, soon to be king—he’s the only one who’s on my side. But even he can’t stop it. In the end, our father’s word is final.”

“And when you go back?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “They’ll just marry you off again. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

You shook your head. “The Lee family, they’re superstitious. The marriage has to happen within a specific lunar cycle. A month from now, the window closes. After that, they’ll call the match cursed.”

He stared at you, lips parting slightly in disbelief. “That’s... complicated.”

You laughed. A soft, tired sound, bitter around the edges. “Welcome to royalty.”

For a while, the two of you just stood there, the creak of sails above, the whisper of sea spray, the distant calls of early gulls.

Then he asked, “What’s your name?”

You turned to him, surprised. He raised a brow. “Unless you’d prefer I keep calling you Your Highness,” he added, lips tugging into a teasing smile.

You laughed again, more real this time. “It’s Y/N.”

A small smile curled on his lips, rare and flickering. He extended a hand, firm and calloused. “Seonghwa.”

He let go first. “You should come inside. You’ll freeze standing out here.”

You shook your head. “I’ll stay a while longer.”

He nodded once, stepping back. You didn’t watch him walk away. But you heard his boots fade toward the upper deck, slow and even.

You knew he had come to see if your little plea to stay was sincere. To test the story, maybe repeat it to the captain. Maybe let the others laugh about the princess who ran from a wedding and thought the sea was safer.

You knew that.

—The sun had risen. Pale and gold, stretching across the endless water like it had nothing better to do than shine where it wasn’t needed.

You were still there.

Leaning against the gunwale, ankles stiff, the soles of your feet starting to ache inside shoes that weren’t made for wooden floors. Your dress had gone cold hours ago, and now it felt like wearing damp velvet armor—beautiful, useless, and heavy.

You didn’t exactly know what to do.

You’d never been on a pirate ship before. You didn’t know the rhythm of things, when you were allowed to move, when it was smart to speak. On royal ships, you were waited on. You never had to learn the parts or the process. Everything came with a bow and a silver tray.

Here? There was no tray. And no one bowed.

And after last night, it was obvious they didn’t like you. Not as a person. As a type.

So you stayed at the back of the ship, fingers toying with the few rings you still wore. Twisting them, turning them. The metal was warm from your skin, and playing with them gave your hands something to do, even if your mind stayed too loud.

“Morning.”

The man standing in front of you was tall—taller than anyone had a right to be, really—and broad-shouldered. His dark navy blue hair was tousled, the tips catching the light like ink brushed with silver. There was something open about him, something easy in the way he stood, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, a half-smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m Yunho,” he said, friendly but not too forward. “Figured I should say hi before we sail too far into awkward silence.”

You blinked once, surprised. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He grinned. “You’re kind of a hot topic around here.”

You smiled, just barely. It wasn’t cruel, what he said. Just honest.

“You planning to stand here all day?” he asked, tilting his head. “You know, no food, no water, slowly turning into a very expensive statue?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” he said, already stepping forward like he didn’t believe you. “But if you faint and hit your head again, the crew’s going to blame me. And that’s bad for morale.”

You couldn’t help it—your lip twitched. “Is that how you treat your guests?”

“You’re not a guest,” Yunho replied easily. “You’re cargo we can’t sell. At least not anymore.”

Charming.

“Come on,” he added, motioning with a tilt of his head. “You should eat something. Worst case, you hate it and spit it out. Best case, you survive and we keep our investment breathing.”

With no better option and a stomach that had long stopped growling out of pure pride, you followed him.

The ship’s corridors were tight and low, the wood groaning beneath every step. You walked behind him, your skirt catching now and then on corners, one hand brushing the walls for balance. Overhead, you could hear the low rumble of voices and the steady thud of boots—crew, working above deck.

Yunho led you through a narrow passage and into a wider space where the air was warmer, laced with spice and something that smelled vaguely like bread.

The kitchen was small, cluttered in a way that felt lived-in rather than neglected. Metal pans hung from hooks. Herbs were tied up near the window to dry. A small table sat tucked near the far wall, barely big enough for three people.

Yunho clapped his hands once. “Woo!”

There was a long pause before, “Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” came a voice from somewhere behind the shelves.

You turned to see another man step out, wiping his hands on a towel. He was shorter than Yunho, with light blonde hair falling over his forehead, pushed back just enough to show a glint of a silver earring. His eyes were sharp—mischief lingering behind them like it had found a permanent home there—and his mouth was already curled into a smirk before he’d even said anything.

“Well,” he said, giving you a once-over that wasn’t impolite, just observant. “If it isn’t our royal stowaway.”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, unimpressed, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Probably the latter.

He leaned against the counter, cocking his head. “So… what would Her Highness like today?”

You opened your mouth, half a reply already forming—

“Wooyoung,” Yunho cut in, rolling his eyes, “two plates. Please.”

Wooyoung smirked, not bothering to argue, and turned back toward the shelves.

Yunho gestured to the table. “Sit. Before you fall over.”

He dropped into his seat first, elbows on the wood, fingers tapping out some idle rhythm. You moved more slowly, settling in across from him, posture instinctively proper—straight back, shoulders poised, hands folded neatly in your lap.

A moment later, Wooyoung returned, balancing two chipped plates. He slid one in front of you and the other in front of Yunho, along with mismatched forks.

You looked down. There were mashed potatoes and a piece of fried chicken. You barely stopped yourself from frowning.

Mashed potatoes? For breakfast? You didn't say it aloud. You figured you were already on thin enough ice.

“Not palace cuisine, I know,” Wooyoung said, watching you with a grin. “No gold-plated cutlery or twelve-course meals. Tragic.”

You smiled at him tightly. “And no servants to taste it first. I suppose I’ll take my chances.”

His grin widened, and he walked back behind the shelves with a short laugh.

You picked up the fork, stabbing a cautious bite of the potatoes. They were a little cold, a little uneven, but not terrible. Certainly not the silky, butter-laced ones you were used to back home—but edible. And if you were going to survive here for the next month, you’d have to get used to food that didn’t come with garnishes and three sets of forks.

Wooyoung came back a minute later with three metal mugs, sloshing with something dark.

He passed one to Yunho, took one for himself, then offered the last to you.

“What is this?” you asked, peering into the cup like it might bite you.

“My homemade rum,” Wooyoung said proudly.

“Rum,” you repeated. “In the morning?”

Wooyoung chuckled, already sipping his. “Darling, you’re on a pirate ship. Rum’s drank like water here.”

You looked back into the cup again. You didn’t trust it. It didn’t even smell like proper rum—it smelled stronger, sharper, like it had no business being legal anywhere.

Wooyoung noticed your hesitation. He leaned forward slightly, hand reaching toward your mug.

“It’s fine,” he said, mockingly gentle. “I get it. Princesses like you are more into wine and champagne. Little sugared fruit on the rim, maybe a mint leaf—”

You snatched the mug back before he could touch it. “I’ll drink it.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Carefully, you took a sip, and immediately, your mouth twisted in disgust. You brought a hand up to cover your face, coughing once through clenched teeth.

Both Yunho and Wooyoung burst out laughing. “Can’t blame you,” Yunho said, raising his mug in solidarity. “We all had the same reaction the first time.”

Wooyoung leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “I remember San vomiting his insides for, like, an hour. Didn’t get up until the next afternoon.”

“Only Jongho handled it,” Yunho added. “Didn’t even blink. Just poured himself another.”

You set the mug down slowly, pushing it a safe distance away with two fingers.

“You people are insane,” you muttered.

Wooyoung raised his mug again. “Welcome to the crew.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could bite back a reply, his gaze shifted, narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. His smirk faded just a little.

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue. “San really clocked you, huh?”

Your hand went up on instinct, fingers brushing the dried edge of blood at your temple. It was crusted along your skin, a thin, flaky trail you hadn’t thought much about until now.

“It’s fine,” you said, a little too quick.

“Still,” Yunho said, pushing his plate away, “after this, I’ll take you to Yeosang. He���s the closest thing we have to a medic. He’ll clean it up properly.”

You nodded, not entirely thrilled about someone poking at your head, but you figured infection on a pirate ship probably wasn’t a great look either.

Once breakfast was over—plates cleared, mugs emptied (yours pushed as far away from you as possible)—Yunho stood and motioned for you to follow.

The two of you moved back through the narrow corridors, the wood underfoot uneven in places, the air carrying that familiar scent of sea salt and something faintly metallic.

He stopped in front of a plain wooden door, pushing it open with his shoulder. The room inside was small and smelled like clean linen and old rum. A few makeshift beds lined the walls—thin mattresses, some with folded blankets, a few more like worn cots than proper beds. Glass bottles were tucked into shelves, most unlabeled, though a few had scrawled notes tied around their necks with twine.

“Sit there,” Yunho said, pointing to one of the beds. “I’ll find Yeosang. He might be in the map room.”

You sat slowly, careful not to crush the side of your gown. The mattress dipped under your weight, softer than you expected, and you glanced around the room. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t neat either. A kind of organized chaos—like someone worked here often and knew exactly where everything was, even if no one else did.

The door creaked open again a few minutes later.

A man stepped in, closing it behind him with a quiet thud. He was lean, with wavy red hair that brushed just past his ears. There was a birthmark next to his left eye, subtle but noticeable, and his hands were stained with ink—faint smudges along his fingers and knuckles, the kind only someone who spent hours writing or drawing could have.

Yeosang, you assumed.

He gave you a once-over, quiet and efficient, before turning toward the shelf. “Anywhere else you’re hurt?”

You shook your head. “No. Just that.”

He nodded and soaked a piece of cotton in a clear solution before dabbing it gently against your temple. The dried blood softened under his touch, wiped away in slow circles. The sting wasn’t bad, but it caught you off guard. You clenched your jaw, eyes flicking to the wall in front of you as he worked.

Your thoughts drifted. By now, the palace would be in chaos. Your absence wouldn’t have gone unnoticed for long. Not with the wedding looming and your name attached to half the kingdom’s trade agreements. You could imagine the closed-door meetings. The soldiers were dispatched. The quiet fear behind your mother’s eyes, even if she wouldn’t say it out loud.

But it was your brother who came to mind.

He’d be the first to move. The first to tear down cities if it meant finding you. Taeyang wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t rest. And the longer you stayed gone without word, the more dangerous it became—for everyone.

You needed him to know you were okay. Not safe—but alive and willingly gone.

You needed him to stop. Not because you didn’t want to see him, but because if he kept looking, he would find you. And if he found you… It would all be over.

You turned slightly toward Yeosang. “Will you be docking anywhere soon?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Sakaris. In a few hours, maybe.”

Your chest lifted. Sakaris. Jihoon lived there. One of your brother’s closest friends since they were boys. Trusted. Loyal. If you could just get word to him...

“Would I be able to meet someone there? Just for a moment. I want to send a letter to my brother.”

Yeosang frowned slightly, finishing up the bandage and stepping back. “You’d have to ask the captain for that.”

You sank back a little. Of course.

The captain.

The same one who’d pinned you to the edge of the ship with a gun pressed to your head, whose entire body had bristled with disdain the moment he found out who you were.

Not exactly someone you were dying to have another conversation with.

Still. If this letter didn’t go out, your brother would find you. With ships. And questions. And maybe worse.

“Can you take me to him?” you asked.

Yeosang stood, returning the bottle to the shelf. “I’ll walk you there.”

You followed him without a word, your steps light but your stomach heavy. The ship groaned around you as it swayed, and every few feet, you passed a crewmember or heard a snatch of conversation echoing from the deck above. But no one looked twice. Maybe they were getting used to your presence. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

The captain’s cabin sat at the far end of the corridor, behind a door that looked heavier than the rest—dark wood with the paint scratched around the handle, like it had seen its fair share of slams and fists. Yeosang knocked once.

“Come in,” said a voice, too soft to match the man it belonged to.

Yeosang opened the door and stepped aside, holding it for you.

he room smelled like ink, old wood, and rum. The desk was a mess—parchments, maps, scribbled notes, a few gold coins scattered like he hadn’t bothered to care where they landed. And behind it sat the captain, leaned back in his chair with one leg hooked over the other, a mug dangling from his hand.

His hair looked like it had been neat once. Half-black, half-blonde, tousled now from too many frustrated fingers raking through it. He hadn’t shaved recently, and the stubble along his jaw made him look a little more human than you expected. But the moment his eyes found you, any softness vanished.

He didn’t bother hiding the irritation, not in his stare, not in the slow exhale through his nose, not in the faint tightening of his mouth.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you felt Yeosang move to your side, silent as ever.

“What does our princess want now?” Hongjoong said, lifting the mug to his mouth without breaking eye contact.

You kept your chin high. “I want to send a letter.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A letter.”

“To my brother,” you added. “He’ll be looking for me. I want to tell him he doesn’t need to.”

Hongjoong set the mug down with more force than necessary, the sound sharp against the desk.

“No.”

Your expression didn’t change, but something twisted in your chest. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” he said, plainly. “And I’m not about to hand over the location of this ship to the royal family. We’re not playing house, princess. This isn’t some little game where you get to mail letters from the sea.”

“If I don’t send it,” you said, stepping forward slightly, “he’ll find me. My brother will tear the ports apart. He’ll hurt your crew if he thinks I’m in danger—”

Hongjoong slammed his palm against the table and stood in one motion, the chair screeching behind him. “This is exactly why I hate royals,” he spat, voice rising. “You walk into rooms thinking you’re more important than everyone else. That your problems should be our problems. That your blood means we should bend.”

Your fists clenched at your sides. “I’m not saying that.”

“You are,” he snapped.

“I’m telling you the reality.”

The two of you locked eyes, the space between you crackling with the kind of energy that made people either kiss or kill each other.

And right now, you wanted nothing more than to bury him alive.

He leaned forward over the table, jaw tense. “And how do you plan on sending this letter, Your Highness?”

You lifted your chin. “I know someone in Sakaris. A merchant. Jihoon. I’ll give the letter to him, he’ll pass it along.”

Hongjoong let out a short, sharp laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “You mean you want to leave the ship. Walk around Sakaris. In that little ball gown?” He gestured vaguely in your direction, scoffing. “You’ll be spotted before you blink. You’ll have the whole damn city on us in an hour.”

You resisted the urge to throw something at his head.

Your jaw locked, and you glared at him, hard enough to imagine it might burn. God, you hated him. His smugness. His condescension. The fact that you had to ask him for anything at all.

Before you could snap something you’d regret, Yeosang spoke quietly beside you. “Perhaps… we could give her some normal clothes. So she could blend in.”

Your eyes snapped to him, hopeful. “Yes. That would work.”

Hope sparked low in your chest as you looked between Yeosang and the captain. He was glaring at Yeosang now, clearly rethinking his entire crew structure.

Then he looked back at you. His head dropped forward, chin touching his chest. A long breath escaped him, like this entire conversation had aged him.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice low with reluctance.

He reached to the side of his desk, grabbed something, and tossed it to Yeosang—your ring. Yeosang caught it one-handed without blinking.

“Turn it into coin,” Hongjoong said flatly. “You and Jongho. Stock the ship while you’re at it.”

He looked at you, his mouth curling into a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“And me and Mingi will go shopping for our princess.”

The sarcasm in his tone was thick enough to drown in. You said nothing, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But you did shoot him one last glare as you turned and followed Yeosang out.

—The streets of Sakaris pulsed with life. Stalls brimmed with produce, cloth, and cheap jewelry, merchants barked out deals, and the air carried a mix of salt, spice, and the smoke of open grills. The sun sat just past its peak, casting long shadows between the crooked buildings and glowing off the sea in the distance.

Hongjoong walked ahead, sharp-eyed, coat catching the breeze behind him. Mingi strolled a few steps behind, hands stuffed in his pockets, chewing on a toothpick and bobbing his head to a beat no one else could hear. His bright yellow-orange hair caught the light like a torch, impossible to miss. Hongjoong had told him not to dye it that color. Loud. Obvious. Idiotic, if you asked him.

But then again, when did Mingi ever listen?

“Wild,” Mingi said casually, catching up, “out of everything we’ve done, I never thought we’d end up shopping for a princess.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes without turning his head. “Let’s just make this quick.”

They passed several crowded booths, most displaying flashy garments—glittering dresses with too much fabric, frilly corsets, impractical heels. Things better suited for a ballroom than a pirate deck.

Eventually, they found a smaller stall wedged between a food cart and a fishing vendor. This one was simpler. Worn linen, thick cottons, rough leathers. Real clothes.

Mingi immediately grabbed the first set he saw—a pair of fitted trousers and a loose white blouse—and held them up like he’d struck gold.

“She’s gonna hate this,” Hongjoong muttered.

“What? It’s clean. Looks comfortable.” Mingi turned it toward him. “Functional.”

Hongjoong gave it one glance. Then gave Mingi a look that said you’ve clearly never met a princess in your life.

“She’s a royal. She’d rather get eaten by sharks than wear trousers.”

Mingi frowned, looking at the clothes again. “I think women look hot in trousers.”

“Good for you,” Hongjoong muttered, already ignoring him.

He pulled out a long dress—not frilly, not soft. It was deep charcoal gray with faded red stitching along the sleeves and neckline. The material was sturdy, almost military in feel, but it flowed enough not to restrict movement. The skirt hit around the ankles, and the high neckline dipped just slightly into a lace-up front. Modest enough to pass, but practical—something that wouldn’t trip her while walking the deck or raise suspicion in town. It had the look of something someone not royalty might wear.

He paired it with a simple leather belt and a pair of worn brown boots with decent soles.

Tossing it all on the counter, he said, “Price?”

The vendor—a stocky woman with sun-worn skin and a sharp gaze—named a number. Hongjoong handed her coins without haggling.

Mingi leaned on the table, watching the transaction. Then, casually, “So… why’d you let her stay?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer at first. He collected the bundle, tucking it under his arm. “She offered double what we would’ve gotten from ransom. Just to stay on board for a month.”

“And you hate her,” Mingi added helpfully.

“Yes,” Hongjoong said flatly.

“So… why agree?”

He finally looked at Mingi. “Because I’m not an idiot. She stays quiet, we get paid, and I don’t have to see her unless something catches fire. It’s a business arrangement, not a charity.”

Mingi nodded like he understood. Then added, “Still. I think you did the right thing.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Well,” Mingi said, voice softer now, “she’s supposed to marry Prince Chanwoo. And anyone marrying him is basically signing their death sentence. You didn’t just keep her on board, hyung—you probably saved her life.”

Hongjoong frowned deeply, like the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “You mean I saved a royal?”

Mingi’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not—wait, that’s not what I meant—”

—You didn’t know what exactly you were expecting when Hongjoong returned.

But it wasn’t this.

He stepped into the room without knocking, as if the ship were his—as if every room aboard it bowed to him. Which, unfortunately, it did. His coat was dusted with the scent of the Sakaris marketplace—spices, sweat, and sea air—and under his arm was a folded bundle of dark fabric and worn leather. He dropped it unceremoniously onto the nearest chair.

“There,” he said. “Your royal wardrobe.”

You stepped forward slowly, eyebrows already drawing together. The dress looked like something a barmaid in a dockside inn might wear—dark, practical, and worse, plain. The boots were heavy, clearly secondhand, the leather soft with wear and cracked at the toes. The entire outfit was a far cry from the velvet and embroidery still clinging to your frame.

Your lips parted, appalled. “That’s it?”

Hongjoong leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You were expecting pearls?”

“I was expecting something with a lining,” you muttered, lifting the dress between two fingers like it might bite you.

He smirked, slow and irritating. “You don’t get to pick and choose, darling. You wanted to blend in. This is what blending in looks like.”

You turned your glare on him fully now. “It looks like something dragged off a fishing boat.”

“It’s clean,” he shrugged. “You’ll live.”

“I’ve worn mourning clothes fancier than this.”

“Great,” he said. “Then consider this your grieving period for your old life.”

He was so… smug. Always three steps ahead in his own head, never out of clever little quips. You wondered if he was ever serious or if sarcasm was just the only language he knew.

“I could stab you,” you said sweetly.

His smile widened. “You could try.”

The air between you sat thick—taunting, daring. You weren’t sure which of you would break first, or if the ship itself would give out before one of you actually snapped. You hated how unbothered he looked. How little you rattled him.

You scooped up the dress and the boots, careful not to drag the hem on the floor. “I’m not changing in here.”

“Why not?” he asked, mock-innocent. “I’ll turn around.”

You didn’t answer. You just turned and walked past him, brushing his shoulder on the way out—purposefully.

“I’ll find another room,” you said over your shoulder. “One that doesn’t reek of ego and rum.”

“You're welcome, princess,” he called after you, voice trailing with a laugh.

You just kept walking, dress in hand, boots under your arm, and dignity hanging by a thread—but still intact.

—The sun sat high now, casting harsh light across the deck. Sails snapped against the wind, ropes stretched and creaked, and Yunho was going on about the new batch of weaponry Jongho and Yeosang had hauled from port.

Hongjoong wasn’t really listening. Not fully. He was halfway through nodding at something when he caught movement from the corner of his eye.

He glanced up. And there you were—stepping up from below deck, climbing slowly like the ship might tip at any moment, one hand holding onto the railing as if the wind might throw you into the sea.

You looked awkward in the boots. Too stiff in the legs, trying not to trip on the hem of the long dress he’d chosen. The belt sat a little too loose on your waist, the sleeves rolled halfway up your forearms like you didn’t quite know what to do with them. You weren’t graceful now. You weren’t gliding across polished floors with servants in your shadow. You looked like a girl in borrowed clothes, walking on splintered wood, squinting in the sunlight like it was too loud.

You didn’t look like a princess.

And that’s what made his jaw tighten.

It was easier when you were draped in red silk. Easier to hate you when you stood out—when you looked like the thing he resented. But now? With the wind tugging loose strands of hair from your braid, with your lips pressed together like you didn’t want anyone to see you struggling to adjust to this new life—you looked... ordinary.

And he hated that more.

You didn’t belong here, but you weren’t soft anymore either. Not in that dress. Not with dirt smudged on the edge of your skirt and the faint crease between your brows from concentration.

And Hongjoong hated it.

He hated you.

He hated the sound of your voice, the weight of your name, the fact that somehow, despite every reason not to, you were still here. He hated that he had to see you. Had to account for you. Had to care, in some logistical sense, if you lived or died on his ship. And more than that—he hated that when you stepped into the light just now, something in his chest paused before the irritation caught up.

Yunho said something else, still talking beside him.

Hongjoong didn’t hear it because his eyes stayed on you.

He hoped you tripped on your own damn boots.

© kysstar

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[absdollievu]

Come Stay Awhile

Olderrich!abby x babysitter!reader

Warnings: abby is in her early 30’s, reader in in her late 20’s

The rain had started just as you turned up the long, winding driveway, the heavy drops tapping against your windshield as you squinted through the gathering gray. You’d seen pictures of the house online — it was part of the job offer — but pictures hadn’t done it justice.

It wasn’t just a house. It was a mansion.

Wide, tall, and built in clean modern lines, with sharp stone paths cutting through immaculately trimmed gardens. You swallowed hard and parked by the front steps, nerves chewing at your stomach.

You were just the babysitter. Nothing more.

Right?

The door swung open before you could even knock.

There she was — Abby Anderson herself.

Early 30s, taller than you remembered from the interview, broad shoulders filling the doorway like a wall you wouldn’t mind running into. She wore a loose black sweatshirt and joggers, her hair pulled into a low bun, a pen tucked behind her ear like she’d been signing important papers and forgot about it.

“Hey,” she said simply, voice low and casual, but her eyes were sharp. “You found it.”

You managed a smile, feeling a little like a lost cat she was about to shoo off her porch.

“Yeah. Thanks for…uh, hiring me.”

She stepped aside and gestured you in with a quick flick of her hand. “Come on. You’ll get soaked.”

The entrance smelled like lemon cleaner and new wood. Everything gleamed: dark floors, wide staircases, tall glass windows.

You stood there dripping water onto an expensive rug and feeling about two inches tall.

Abby shut the door behind you and tilted her head slightly. “You bring your stuff?”

You nodded and jerked a thumb toward your beat-up car. “Yeah. It’s, uh, not much.”

“Good.” She grabbed a set of keys from the little table by the door and tossed them to you.

You almost dropped them.

“I’ll show you where you’re staying,” Abby said, like it was no big deal.

Like you weren’t about to live inside her literal palace.

⸻

The guest house was somehow even nicer than any apartment you’d ever lived in.

It was detached from the main building, had its own kitchen, a little patio, even a washer and dryer. Abby helped you carry your stuff inside — three trips, even though you insisted she didn’t have to.

The whole time, you tried not to stare.

At the way her forearms flexed when she lifted.

At the little frown she got when she was concentrating. At how young she really looked when she wasn’t all buttoned-up in work clothes.

By the time you finished unloading, your nerves had cooled a little. Abby leaned against the doorframe with a bottle of water in her hand, surveying your sad little pile of belongings.

“You’ll fit in,” she said with a smirk.

You laughed, grateful she didn’t seem to mind how out of place you were.

⸻

Weeks passed.

You fell into a rhythm: school drop-offs, play dates, dinner prep.

Her kid was easy — smart, funny, quick to latch onto you like you were the coolest person alive. Abby kept her distance at first, always polite but busy. Always somewhere else.

But sometimes, you caught her watching.

At breakfast, when you made her daughter laugh so hard milk came out her nose.

At bedtime, when you sang low to get her kid to sleep.

At the kitchen table, when you doodled silly comics on homework papers.

Those moments were fleeting. Always broken by a phone call, a meeting, a door shutting upstairs.

Until that one night.

⸻

It had been a long day.

Soccer practice. Science fair projects. Grocery runs.

You were dead on your feet, tying your shoes by the door, about to head back to the guesthouse.

“You want a drink?” Abby’s voice came from behind you.

You froze — laces half-tied, one foot still raised.

Slowly, you turned.

She was leaning against the kitchen island, holding two glasses — whiskey already poured.

Her hair was down for once, messy from running her hands through it. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up, veins standing out against her forearms.

She looked… normal. Soft. Tired in a way that made your chest ache.

You hesitated. You weren’t sure why.

It was just a drink.

Right?

Your heart thudded. You smiled, small and unsure but real.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d love one.”

Abby’s mouth twitched like she wanted to smile too — but didn’t let herself.

You crossed the kitchen and took the glass from her, fingertips brushing hers for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of you pulled away first.

It was quiet.

The house hummed around you.

The storm still whispered against the windows.

For the first time since you arrived, you realized you weren’t scared of Abby anymore.

Not even a little.

You were scared of yourself — of how easy it was becoming to want her.

And across the countertop, Abby was realizing it too.

The way her throat bobbed when she swallowed.

The way her gaze kept dropping to your mouth when you talked about nothing and everything over the next few hours.

The way she leaned in when you laughed, like she couldn’t help it.

Something shifted that night — quiet, seismic, undeniable.

Neither of you said anything.

But when you said goodnight, Abby’s hand lingered on the edge of your sleeve, as if she almost reached for you.

She didn’t.

Not yet.

⸻

From that night on, everything between you and Abby changed.

Slowly.

Steadily.

Sweetly.

And maybe — if you were both brave enough — it wouldn’t stop.

⸻

After that night, Abby didn’t start showing up at your door with flowers or make grand gestures.

No — it was quieter than that.

It was the way she lingered at the doorway after you put her daughter to bed, sitting at the kitchen island while you finished cleaning up.

It was the way she started asking about your day — not the polite “how was it” of a boss, but the genuine curiosity of someone who wanted to know you.

It was the way she smiled now — small, almost shy, not the tight professional one she used to give.

The slowest burn you’d ever lived through.

And you?

You started finding reasons to stay a little longer after your shifts.

You laughed at her dry jokes until your insides hurt.

You kept catching yourself looking at her — at the crinkle of her eyes when she laughed, the way she always absentmindedly cracked her knuckles when she was thinking.

You were screwed. Completely, irrevocably screwed.

⸻

It was almost two months later, on another rainy night, that it all came to a head.

You were curled up on the couch in Abby’s massive living room — her daughter already fast asleep upstairs — flipping through some mindless movie on TV. Abby wandered in, holding two beers.

“You look dead,” she said with a small smirk, dropping onto the other end of the couch.

“Feel dead,” you mumbled, gratefully accepting the beer.

You sat there in silence for a while, the muted light of the TV flickering across the room.

You could feel her across the couch — the warmth of her body, the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing.

Half an hour passed.

Maybe more.

You didn’t know anymore, the beer softening the edges of the world.

At some point — you didn’t even realize when — you shifted sideways, curling your knees up and resting your head against the back of the couch. Facing her. Watching her.

She was already looking at you.

Something pulled taut between you.

Tight. Breathless. Dangerous.

Abby set her beer down with a quiet clink.

Her hand flexed against her thigh like she was fighting herself.

And then — her voice, low and rough:

“You’re good with her.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Your daughter?”

Abby gave the smallest nod.

“You’re good…with me too.”

Your heart stopped.

Dead quiet.

You opened your mouth, searching for something to say, but Abby was already moving — slow, careful, deliberate.

She shifted closer.

Not much — just a few inches.

“You make this place feel like home,” she said, voice raw.

Your chest ached so hard it hurt.

Without thinking — without giving yourself time to doubt — you closed the distance.

Leaning in.

You stopped a breath away, giving her a chance to pull back.

She didn’t.

Instead, Abby’s hand came up — rough fingers curling behind your neck — and she kissed you.

⸻

It wasn’t a soft kiss.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was starving.

Years of loneliness and longing crashing all at once.

A kiss that said I didn’t think I’d ever have this.

A kiss that said I’m scared to want you but I do anyway.

You gasped against her mouth, and she swallowed it hungrily, her other hand gripping your hip like she was terrified you’d slip away.

You didn’t.

You stayed.

Pressed closer.

Kissed her back like you’d been waiting for this exact moment since the second you stepped onto her front porch.

⸻

Later, much later, you lay tangled together on the couch.

Her sweatshirt smelled like clean laundry and rain.

Her fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along your spine.

Neither of you said anything for a long time.

You didn’t need to.

Because sometimes, when something breaks open inside you — something heavy and beautiful — you don’t rush to fill the silence.

You let it bloom.

And lying there against her chest, you knew:

this was just the beginning.

⸻

[isabeauwolf]

Law x Plus Size Nurse Reader 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5: Misunderstandings

You had seen Ikkaku in passing several times, even giving each other basic greetings, but this was the first time you two had actually sat down and talked.

The woman had dark brown curly hair, tied into a thick braid running down her back and light brown eyes.

You knew she was a part of Law's main team. An impressive feat in its own right since the renowned Surgeon would become busy with his own tasks and work, both his skills in the operating room and duties as the Chef and owner of the hospital itself.

After eating lunch and talking with an extra ten minutes to spare, you decided to ask Ikkaku for advice since she was closer to Law. "Has doctor grumpy always been such a pain in the ass?" You ask, lowering your voice and covering the side of your mouth with your hand. "I swear it feels as if he's even more of a grouch when I'm around."

Ikkaku's lips pressed into a thin line as she snorted through her nose, covering her mouth as a string of giggles slipped out. "Boy, you're as blunt and honest as they come, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with that?" You lower your hand and sip your drink, shrugging. "I hate lying, even white lies." Leaning your elbow on the table and resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. "Besides my poker face sucks."

Ikkaku hums and asks a question of her own. "So what happened early this morning?" Her eyes twinkled with interest, smile widening. "Heard you gave Cap a stern talkin' to and stripped down naked in front of him and the rest of the onlookers."

You blushed bright red and cringed. "I wasn't completely buck assed naked." You correctly, covering your heated face. "Still had my bra and underwear on. It was an impulse; I was hangry and tired." You sighed. "I don't get it. Law could have asked anybody else, but he kept pushing and pushing." You ranted. "I wanted to shut him up, wipe that stupid, smug and sexy assed smirk off his face..." Your eyes widened. "Shit. Forget I said that."

Ikkaku raised a brow, her smile widening into a smirk. "From what I've heard from Pen and Shachi you certainly are an interesting person." She reached over and lightly pat your hand. "Besides being confidant in your own skin like that takes a lot of guts." Her bright smile returning, it's genuine. "You aren't ashamed of your own beauty, which I think a lot more woman need in their lives." She pulls away. "It's inspiring really."

"Thanks." You lowered your hand and gave her a smile. "Took a lot of years to feel comfortable about my body not being like a super model. To learn to love myself first." You finished your coffee and sighed. "Self-love is best love, isn't it?"

"Hell yeah it is." Ikkaku stood and picked up her tray.

You followed, throwing away your trashed and returning the red reusable tray on the cart beside the trashcan.

Ikkaku pulled out a pen and small notebook. "Oh, here's my number if you ever want to talk, hang out or nag about Cap some more." She tears it off and offers it to you. "I know he can be a handful, but he's not all scowls, mopey, and emotionally constipated."

You took it. "You mean he can smile?" You joke, laughing. "And not look like his face is permanently frozen with the world's worst hangover and resting bitch face?"

You both laugh and cackle loud, drawing the attention of Penguin, Shachi and Law himself.

You tear off a piece of the paper and give her your number in return, smiling. "Here and thanks for talking with me. I appreciate it." You shoved you hand inside the front of your pocket, pulling out your phone. You had a few missed calls from both Nami and Robin, even Gramps. "I love my job. I love helping people." You explained, smile dimming. "It's because of my friends that I've worked so hard to become a nurse... and yet... it feels as if I've done something to keep pissing off Cap and I don't know what I did?" You admitted, grip tightening on your phone. "If he wants to fire me or has a problem with me, I wish...." You pause and sighed, frowning. "I wish... he'd tell me to my face instead of pussyfooting around and scowling about it."

That made all four of them pause. Then again, none of them could blame you for thinking such a thing about how the boss has been treating you. Out of the four, you knew Trafalgar Law the least. You picked up a few of his mannerisms, speech patterns and habits, but nothing more. Nothing too personal or intimate, nothing out of the norm for a boss and his coworker.

Ikkaku opened her mouth to offer encouragement when Law spoke first. "L/n may I see you in my office, please?"

You jumped in fright, half turning and meeting Law's molten silvers. "Jesus, Cap. Can you please not sneak up on me like a ninja or something." You place your hand over your heart and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Make some damn noise wouldya?"

"Sorry." He replied and nodded his head towards outside the cafeteria. "Follow me, please."

"Sure." You mutter, staring back at Ikkaku who offered you a thumbs up and a smile.

Well, shit. How much of my trash talking and bitching did he hear? Did you really overstep and push him too hard this morning and before lunch time? Was the dessert me offered you out of pity or sympathy? A good deed before shoving you out the door?

The more you thought about it. The larger your stomach dropped and knots twisting in your gut, anxiety crawling and spreading like tiny ants. Calm down. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. It's not the end of the world... if Law fires you today... right? Okay. You lied. It would suck so bad. Being fired by your crush would hurt worse than a papercut and getting lemon juice and salt dumped onto the wound.

In a flash you two were in front of Law's office.

Your eyes trailed up Law's back, licking your lips as you settled your nerves and clenched your fists tight. It's now or never. You took a deep breath and muttered sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Doctor Trafalgar." You closed your eyes, tears prickling at the corners.

You didn't see the taller man pause, his inked hand tightening hard on the door handle, muscles bunching and straining underneath his shirt. The complete definition of shock written all over his face as he twirled and snuck a glance at you. You were trembling and your eyes were closed, close to bursting into tears. Why?

Law swallowed, his heart ached in his chest and his face softening into a deep frown before remasking it. "What?" He cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you apologizing for, L/n?" Facing the door and opening it.

You opened your eyes, a trail of tears falling. "You..." You whisper softly, you sounded pathetic and broken even to your own ears.

"I'm what?" Law asked. Resisting everything in his body to remain standing perfectly still, in complete control and resist the need to reach for you and cradle you into his chest. Whisper sweet words until you calm down. Instead, he waited.

Waiting to hear whatever you had to say.

You sniffed, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand. "You're firing me aren't you, Trafalgar?" Great, Law had been you cry twice today.

Law's eyes widened as his heartbeat stilled, and he forgot how to breath. "Wh-?" The Surgeon genuinely appeared confused, searching for any sign of a prank or a lie. He found none. You. You honestly believed that he was going to fire you. "Why?" He asked in a breathless whisper before speaking louder. "What could have possibly given you that conclusion?" His shock was replaced with anger, his jaw tightened as he took a deep breath and tried to bite back a seething glare. "Did someone mention something?"

You shook your head. "No, sir."

Law knew you were being polite and minding your manners. He's your boss. Your superior. You were using his last name and giving him proper respect. He knew that. And yet, it felt foreign and wrong coming from your mouth. The Surgeon was so used to your sassy comebacks and banter, your playful jabs and silly nicknames for him that hearing you call him by his last name didn't sit well with him.

Not at all.

It felt as if you two had gone back to level zero, two years back in time to when you first started working here.

He absolutely didn't like it.

He wanted bang his head against his office door. What the hell had you done to him? He should be the one apologizing to you. Not the other way around! Law had been an ass all day, though it wasn't his intention. He wanted to spend more time with you. Get closer to you. His pride and awkwardness got in the way, so Law had done what he'd always had whenever he was nervous... he'd become stiff, snarky and snippy. Even when he wanted to slap himself in the face or shambles himself away with his devil fruit.

He could work days without sleep, hours in the operating room or doing boring paperwork and re-reading his notes and textbooks until he was completely exhausted and yet... he couldn't tell you how he felt yet. He didn't want to push you. Here he was going it anyway.

Couldn't he do anything right? Or normal? Why couldn't you see that seeing you hurt, distressed or in pain hurt him too? Why did love and matters of the heart have to be so complicated, so messy?

Law sighed, running his free hand through his unruly thick black hair and opened the door wider before stepping aside, holding it open. "Just... Just get in and sit down, please, L/n..." He met your questioning gaze and noticed your hesitation. "I'm not firing you." He pressed gently as he could. "If I did, I would have done it on the spot and not in my office."

Oh, you heard stories alright of Law losing his temper and nearly cutting a guy in half for being a complete dick both to Law himself, his staff and coincidentally to you. You think that's the only time you had been Law so enraged, so murderous, losing his cool and his temper over something that guy had said.

You'd never forget a guy as huge and creepy as Law's adoptive Uncle Doflamingo Donquixote or his adoptive father and Doflamingo's younger brother, Rosinante Donquixote. Two giant blonde men with opposite personalities, both raising Law. Since both had no children of their own Law had been named their heir and successor to the Donquixote fortune and titles. Or so you've heard.

It's another reason why Doctor Trafalgar Law is so crabby, so guarded and closed off.

You don't blame him. You imagine a lot of people have tried to get closes to the Doctor to win his favorite or get connections to the big, feathered brothers through Law.

You only met them once or twice during the hospitals Christmas and New Years banquet on your way out the door after leaving work. Even as someone as tall as Law looked like a dwarf compared to those two.

Shaking your head you slowly walked inside Law's office, past him and sat down in one of the fancy, brown leather chairs. God, you hated these chairs. They made you feel fat, as if you were sitting inside a kiddy chair and feared you'd embarrass yourself and get stuck. Like you needed Law to help you get out of it. Oh yeah, real sexy. You scoot to the edge of the seat, literally a smidge of your ass touching the seat, pressing your thick thighs together and folded your hands into your lap, sat up-straight and prayed to God whatever the hell this was would go by fast.

---- End of Chapter 5 -----

I know, I know reader is dense as f and Law is overly stubborn, but don't worry it will be worth it! I promise! Did you like how I snuck in Doffy and Rosi? ;) I had to! Gimme your thoughts, my lovelies!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Want more Law x reader? I've got you!

Merman Law x reader Law x Pregnant reader

Tag list: @m0sigma7 @angelblueflame @pandora-writes-one-piece @short-honey-badger @supreme-burrito @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @cherry-queens-blog @fairymama624 @mrstraffy @kira-scarllet @strawheart-pirate @azuragalaxya @kira-scarllet @the-ginger-draws @cericebelle @emlikesfl0w3rs @aceismyloveforever @mrstrafalgardwater24 @imsnk-ow @thekatisspooky @lunulatalux @physics-of-one-piece @honeyshiddendesire @pinkbun1 @vlntnxvoc @chillerkiller @rubyninja1

[bright-hope-spot-19]

@evilkitten3 I know, right. I know she's barely in the work at all, but I still get angry every time I remember Karura doesn't mention her other two kids at all before dying. Temari and Kankuro had to be 3 and 2 years old when Gaara was born. If I'm not wrong, when their mom died, Kank was probably still in diapers, and Temari was probably just starting to learn her abcs. Which, completely unrelated, also baffles me when people say Temari's the only one with memories of her mother. No? She was only 3. If Kankuro remembers nothing, then she sure af doesn't either. Who the heck even has memories from when they were 3, came on. Back to the topic: Would it have killed Kishimoto to give Karura just one line! One single line of dialogue! Begging her husband to take care of their other two babies? I'm pretty sure that would've made her a lot more memorable imo.

The Rasa fight in the war was terrible cause: 1- Why would Gaara ever forgive his dad after everything the guy did to him? I loathe this trope in anime where victims have to forgive their abusers cause the abuser "feels sowy" or whatever. It's also been done in bnha with Endeavor and Todoroki Shoto. And it is still utter trash that Endy was given any kind of redemption, but at least Hori tried giving his abusive dad character an arc. With Rasa, all he gets is this one fight, and he's instantly forgiven. It just speaks to how bland Gaara got that he's not allowed to express any negative emotions cause that's not what Nart would do (makes sense too, with how Nart keeps also forgiving most villains. He literally called Obito a cool guy if memory doesn't fail me). 2- All 3 of the sand sibs should've been there, fought their dad, and sealed him together. It would've been so cool and such a defining moment for all three. They could've used the one cool combo they have in one of the video games, where Gaara encases their opponent in a giant sand sphere, Kankuro sets it on fire with Sasori's flamethrower, and Temari fans Kankuro's flames to make them even stronger, before Gaara makes the whole thing go boom. Absolutely badass. 3- Rasa fucking acknowledging how far all 3 of his kids have gotten. Gaara is Kazekage, true. But Temari is their ambassador and best wind style user in the world (not counting the unjust main character). Kankuro was made heir of both Sasori's and Chiyo's legacies and is a very excellent puppet master himself. He's only 18 in the war arc, I think, and could already control 5? Or 6 puppets at a time. The maximum amount possible for a human puppet user is 10, one per finger, obviously. So, he's already quickly approaching Chiyo's level. At 18. 4- Gaara admitting to his dad that he could've never, ever in a million years, gotten to where he is now, without their help and unending, undying support. Give him at least two or maybe even three or four! Lines gushing about how great his siblings are, and he appreciates them. 5- They share a sibling hug after their dad is defeated and sealed. Very important, by the way.

Also true, on Temari being sidelined part. She was going to fight the Raikage, but Nart stole the spotlight for no reason at all. Also, his "No, I'm the best wind style user!" Line? Completely unnecessary. Why put Temari down like that, man. She really didn't deserve that. The fact she was supposedly on a squad with Gaara, going against the revived Kage and isn't allowed to help, but for some reason, Gaara gets help from both Nart and fucking Oonoki of all people. Is that mysoginy I smell? Highly likely. I'll admit I never read the manga. Not available where I'm from. But I've seen some manga panels here and there, and Temari has scenes where she appears injured, holding her arm, and her tessen is nowhere to be seen. She was also only there in dialogue scenes when the characters were talking, but when it came time to fight, only Nart and the old fart stood by Gaara's side. The poor girl was done dirty.

All in all, And Ik this is already long enough as is, I still think the sand sibs had massive wells of untapped potential. It's just never realized, cause at some point or the other, Kishimoto just stopped caring. Either because of artist burnout, losing love for his story, doing it only for money, or executive meddling, we'll never know. I just wish they'd had at least one extra arc centered around them, even if only filler. Sighs.

Gaara was so boring in Pt 2. He should have stayed a murderous little psychopath. Instead of becoming emotionally stable he should have screeched at people whenever they tried to touch him and killed Deidara for fun

[chidoroki]

Wind Breaker S2EP4

aka: i'm literally on cloud nine right now

Every boy in this darn class is adorable.

RIP to that one dude caught in Anzai’s headlock for like two straight minutes.

“He said he came from out of town, so I thought he’d live a but further. I guess him entering school and his family moving coincided?” “Well, we’ll know when we get there.” The fact we’re at 177 chapters and still dunno the full story about Sakura’s family situation is kinda wild.

Nirei’s panicked screams would be loud enough to wake up anyone.

Pfftt stooppp, Suo’s little surprised face upon seeing Sakura appear is hilarious.

Damn, the anime does real well showing how dark and dreary Sakura’s place looks. I never got that kinda feeling in the manga with how it lacks color.

“I’ve always dealt with crap like this on my own. I’ll get better once I sleep it off. It’s not a big deal.” Aw baby, noooooo! That’s not a good thing!

I love how gentle Suo looks, like you know he desperately wants to help Sakura but he wouldn’t push him to accept it.

Oh, I like how they reflected Suo in Nirei’s phone like that so we could see that brief smile.

The queen has arrived.. lord help me I am not ready for the scenes to come.

Our boy really has such a great groups of friends the way they all bought something for him to help him feel better and take care of that fever.

Why did they go for such horror movie vibes with how Kotoha shows up at his door with the weird first pov and that scream?? My god, his shocked face is priceless!!

Oh thank god he does have working lights in this place at least.

Fffucckk man, I love all of this and ch57, like all Sakura wanted to do when Nirei & Suo came by was to curl up in bed and pass out, but with Kotoha he’s actually engaging in conversation and eating. Yeah he perked up because she brought over a hot meal and our boy loves to eat but as manga!Suo says “while he’s weak right now, he can’t use his mental or physical strength to handle anything that’s not normal for him,” and this entire scene with Kotoha is nothing but normal for him. Sakura’s always been alone so having friends suddenly start caring for him is weird and he shies away from it all, and even though he and Kotoha act all friendly, all the advice and meals she constantly gives him is just status quo at this point for their interactions. He’s used to it and doesn’t feel pressured to act any certain way nor does he feel a need to act strong around her all the time unlike everyone else, which is why I think Suo let her visit Sakura because he knew that too. I doubt he would allow anyone bother or overwhelm Sakura when he’s supposed to be resting despite their desire to help him, such as their entire class, and Sakura’s not even mad that she’s here now and I just really really love this whole scene between them okay?? I love these two. Fuck it, I ship ‘em. I doubt any kind of romantic love is gonna come out of this manga but this trusting and respectable relationship they got going on is precious to me alright. Let me have this because god knows my girl doesn't show up nearly as much as I'd want her to.

Just wanna let y’all know that while I was rambling I had the ep paused on Kotoha slapping the cool patch on Sakura’s head. Fun little frame to pause at.

“Worried about the, ‘I like my buddies now so my body freezes up’ issue?” I shall never get tired of the way she teases him nor those faces she makes when doing so!!

Mmmmmkay, girl, why must you be pretty at every angle.. I swear.

“So why don’t you think of a way to get around it?” “A way to get around it?” “Like delegating the people around you who can act in your behalf.” I feel all weak and soft that he takes her suggestions so seriously. Lift your head up and properly look at people? Done. Learn and use people’s names? Done. Now onto the next step of becoming a good friend and leader.

“There are only so many things one human can do in a limited amount of time.” I really love this line from her too.

“Well, even then.. relying on others, or asking favors from them, may be a bit scary at first.” *shakes manga* Tell me her full story!! Why does she say this?? What has my girl gone through to become so wise?? I know it's all about Sakura's growth and the boys fighting all the time but give me more of our best girl too!!

It feels kinda unfair calling Kotoha best girl when she's literally the only one who shows up frequently and matters but screw it! She's more than earned the title! Aaaahhh!

Teeheee, Kaji’s face when Sakura requests to see him.

A flustered Kaji is an adorable sight to behold.

I love his strange way of trying to explain stuff to Sakura with the coffee and fake ghost.

Kaji being the best senpai!

Not the triple cut on Kaji punching Umemiya smack dab in the face.. HAAHAA!!!

His quick run away too!! God I love this boy so much!!

Aww the flashback of Hiragi taking Kaji to the rooftop to chat.. my boy really learned from the best.

Goddamn, why must the chillest ep be my favorite? I feel so giddy.

[ask-the-curtis-gang]

silly question but since everyone writes back in letter, do you have specific handwritings in mind for them? like if you had to give them a font or something

NOT SILLY AT ALL!! anon I love you with my whole entire heart n I have thought about this EXTENSIVELY. ok so I have an approximation of everyone's handwritin I'll put below but I also have some bonus hcs too hehhe

Johnny has probably the most consistent n normal handwritin of the gang. all his letters get kinda rounded but generally? Great handwritin 10/10

Pony has loopy 'I was thinkin real hard about cursive when I wrote this but I didn't wanna commit' handwritin. all his letters kinda slant but again. real real good n legible. would let him write notes for me n trust I could read em 9/10

Steves writin always looks like he was pressin down a lil too hard n his letters are real sharp n don't all start on the same line but you can read it just fine. good middle marker for decent handwritin 8/10

two holds the pencil like a goddamn animal. inventin ways to hold that thing no man has seen before. his letters are also just. big. he can't write small. I imagine Pony's ALWAYS bitchin bout the fact two takes up half the notes with his writin. he ain't winnin any awards but. I can read it so. pass 7/10

now SODA. my beloved. the font for him in my mind is his BEST handwritin. is big n chunky but you can read it! his NORMAL handwritin? oh Jesus christ. illegible. people are always bringin things he wrote back to him to ask him what the hell it says. (half the time even HE can't tell) god bless that boy. he's got the writin of a doctor 3/10

darry is straight cursive. very formal. he's probably got the most by the book writin. his handwritin looks like it was ripped from a handwritin book. despicable. soda can't read it for shit (combine dyslexia with cursive you got a headache that could kill a horse) im with Soda here. can't read it. but as far as unbiased votin? his handwritin is literally perfect so. unfortunately 10/10

Dallas has alright but spindly lil handwritin. I know realistically his handwritin would be fuckin atrocious. like. runnin with the big dogs of goddamn illegible writin (cough soda cough) but idk. this font feels right for him. especially the w into the i. not the worst I've seen but when he ain't tryin good LUCK soldier. can't read for SHIT. 5/10

The Shepards are a lil less accurate for what I see in my head but they ain't awful. angela has tiny tight lil writin. she's probably got the best of the shepards. fun fact she's the only one of them to do her a's upright. if somethin needs to be well written? her brothers are askin her. but me? hm. yeah I guess I agree with her siblings. 7/10

Curly's is probably the most inaccurate from this list. his writin is so weird. it all connects like cursive but. it's absolutely is not. it's all kinda slanted n weird. but you can read it alright. his writin is also real small. that's a shepard thing tho. 5/10

Tim's writin is real simple. it ain't bad really. it's like the delinquent cousin of johnnys handwritin to be honest. legible. but he fuckin hates writin so. (honestly the most writin he's done in YEARS is these notes) not bad. not good. 5/10

[star55]

Bed Chem: The Sexcapades of Caitlyn Kiramman - Chapter One

Title: Bed Chem: The Sexcapades of Caitlyn Kiramman Author: Star Chapter: One/Eighteen Word Count: 5,433/200,000+ Pairing: Cait/Vi Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends) Rating: Explicit Chapter Warnings: alcohol, sex. Summary: After spending almost a decade overseas, Caitlyn returns to Piltover for her third year of university, intent on making some decent friends, and having as much sex as she possibly can.

What she doesn’t expect is the teen genius who lives next door to become her best friend. Or to fall for the hot butch with all of the lickable tattoos.

~*~

Thank you to Violetrashie for the gorgeous cover art that my bestie, K, commissioned for my birthday. I love it so much.

Happy Lesbian Visibility Day! I hope you enjoy these silly lesbians - they mean so much to me!

~*~

Read on AO3

The one good thing about being a newcomer to Piltover Academy is that Caitlyn is able to remain partially anonymous. Of course there were certain people who knew her family name, but for the most part, if she didn’t want people to know who she was, she could just tell them that she came from Ionia and they’d just believe her.

She didn’t have to say that the first twelve years of her life were spent in Piltover, or that she moved to Ionia to attend a boarding school there because no one ever asked that. They just saw her Ionian looks and accepted it at face value that she was a transfer student.

Which is how she wants it. If people knew she held the Kiramman name, they’d treat her differently – they’d look at her differently, and she knows from personal experience that some of them would suddenly be interested in being her friend because she’s rich.

The rich part currently has its perks as she was able to hire movers to move all of her furniture into her townhouse – one that is owned by her parents, and has been in the Kiramman family for generations. They tend to rent it out to one of their patrons who attends the Academy, but since Caitlyn is finishing off her degree in Piltover, her parents said she could move in.

“Be careful with that, it’s an antique,” she says as she directs two movers who aren’t handling her grandmother’s rifle display case with as much care as she thinks they should be.

Her phone trills in her hand and Caitlyn swipes to answer it without really processing who is on the line.

“Are you here yet?” Jayce asks excitedly.

Caitlyn reflexively smiles at his voice. “I’m here,” she says, “I’m just supervising the moving crew. They should be done soon, though.”

“I can’t wait to see you! It’s been too many years since you were here to stay,” he replies.

“It has,” she agrees. “How about you come by in about half an hour, and you can show me around campus?”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Please don’t,” she says, knowing that he might very well literally do that.

Jayce laughs, his voice warm over the line. “I’ll see you soon, Sprout.”

Caitlyn disconnects the call and goes back to watching the movers. She directs them a few more times, and is thankful when they are done. She’ll have to sort unpacking later, but at least the majority of the furniture is where she wants it.

But right now, she wants to see her best friend and catch up on all of the things she’s missed since she saw him last.

Thankfully Jayce was able to visit Ionia often, and she came back to Piltover every now and then for important society functions that her parents insisted she couldn’t miss. That was one perk about living away from Piltover – she didn’t have to attend so many inane functions.

Once Jayce has texted to say that he’s on his way, Caitlyn grabs her handbag and keys, and makes sure that she locks her door behind her. She closes her eyes and just breathes for a moment before walking down the front steps and onto the footpath.

She can see a few people moving into the townhouses on the same lot as her own, and she wonders if she’ll make friends with any of the people moving in.

There’s an older looking Subaru parked in the driveway to her right, and Caitlyn glances over at it. She’s startled when the front door of the townhouse next to hers slams shut. She watches as a stunning woman with pink hair and the biggest biceps Caitlyn has ever seen jogs down the steps and opens the car. She knows she should feel weird for staring but she can’t help it. She’s wearing a white tank top and well-loved dark jeans, and Caitlyn can see her muscles moving even as she leans over into the car, searching for something. She is the hottest woman Caitlyn has ever seen, and it has unfortunately been a while since she’s had sex.

Caitlyn flushes when the other woman looks up and catches her staring. She ducks her head, embarrassed.

“Hey,” a somewhat gentle voice calls out.

Caitlyn glances up to see the woman smiling at her.

“You just move in?”

Caitlyn nods. “Yeah – yes. Just this morning. You?”

“We moved in a couple of days ago.”

The woman shuts the car door and makes her way over to where Caitlyn is just standing at the end of her own driveway. She hasn’t felt this awkward in a long time.

When the woman gets closer, Caitlyn can see she has tattoos that go up her arms and oh shit she can definitely see her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top. Caitlyn quickly snaps her gaze up to the woman’s face. She tucks a thick textbook under her arm and then extends her free hand in Caitlyn’s direction.

“I’m Vi.”

“Caitlyn,” she replies, shaking Vi’s hand firmly. Vi smirks at her.

“Quite the handshake,” she says.

Caitlyn just gives her a slight shrug of her shoulders. She reaches up and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, well, first impressions matter.”

“That they do,” Vi agrees. Caitlyn catches Vi checking her out and she can’t help but preen a little at that.

Two things happen at the next moment – the front door to Vi’s house opens and Jayce rounds onto her street, and pulls up to the kerb in his sleek black, two-door Jaguar.

“Vi! Where’s my coding textbook?” a younger looking girl with bright blue hair asks, bounding over. She all but leaps onto Vi’s side, and Vi’s arm automatically slings around the girl’s waist.

“It’s right here,” Vi says, passing it over.

“Thank you!” The girl glances over at Caitlyn. “Hi! I’m Powder. I guess you’re our new neighbour?”

Caitlyn nods. She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before she’s swept off her feet in a massive bear hug from Jayce. He swings her around before setting her on her feet, grinning from ear to ear. He cups her face in his massive hands and gives her the sappiest look. She rolls her eyes at him. He saw her six months ago, she isn’t sure why he’s acting like this.

“Sorry!” he exclaims, turning to face Vi and Powder who are looking at them curiously. “I’m Jayce.” He extends his hand and Caitlyn can see him wince when Vi shakes his hand. He extends his hand to Powder next who just pats the top of it. Caitlyn can see Jayce’s slightly confused look, but he doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just getting introduced,” Powder says, glancing between Caitlyn and Vi. “I’m Powder, Vi’s sister.”

Caitlyn can’t help the slight relief she feels at that sentence. She gives the girl a warm smile.

“We’re about to go out and get coffees, would you like to come?” Caitlyn offers impulsively.

The sisters exchange a look before Vi shakes her head.

“We’d love to, but our brothers will be over soon for dinner, so maybe next time?” Vi replies.

Caitlyn nods. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says, looking between the two women.

“You too,” Powder replies.

“C’mon, Cait,” Jayce says, heading for his car. “I’ve got a whole list of places to show you before we even step foot on campus.”

Caitlyn slides into the passenger seat of his car and glances back at the closing front door of her new next-door neighbours. She bites back a sigh, trying to remind herself that she can’t just jump on the first lesbian she sees. Even if said lesbian could undoubtedly catch her. And pin her against a wall and –

“…favourite coffee shop. Seriously, they do the best things with coffee you’ll ever taste.”

She nods like she’s been paying attention the entire time.

“I still need to get some textbooks,” she says when Jayce stops to take a breath.

“Nerd,” Jayce says, affection lacing his tone. “But fine, we’ll take you to the campus bookstore before the day is over.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

They arrive at Jayce’s favourite coffee shop, and Caitlyn isn’t surprised in the slightest when he’s greeted by name and a big smile from the worker behind the counter. Caitlyn glances between the blonde woman around her own age, likely a student, too, and Jayce. She loves him, but she’s pretty sure he has no idea the effect he has on people.

Like right now, this barista hasn’t even noticed that Caitlyn is also by Jayce’s side, patiently waiting to order a drink. But Jayce with his big smile and even bigger shoulders makes so many people swoon. Somehow in the time she’s been in Ionia, she had forgotten that.

With an amused glance at the two of them, she takes a look around the café, taking in the décor and the few patrons occupying seats. The furniture looks comfortable, which is good, because she assumes that a lot of students would make use of this space, especially around exam time.

Caitlyn glances back at Jayce, who is now leaning on the counter, outright flirting with the barista. She catches the gaze of the other barista who is working the shift and shares a knowing smile.

“What can I get you?” the other barista asks. She’s a white woman with a very cute pixie cut, and deep brown eyes that Caitlyn could easily get lost in.

Caitlyn steps around Jayce and the flirting he’s doing with the blonde girl, and approaches the counter.

“May I just have an iced coffee?” she asks, and then lists her flavour preferences too.

“Anything else with that?”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “No, thank you.” She passes over a twenty and tells the barista to keep the change.

Her drink is made and given to her, and she’s taken a seat all before Jayce is stepping back to place his own order.

“You’re an outrageous flirt, you know,” Caitlyn says as Jayce finally sits across from her.

He shrugs his shoulders. “She’s cute,” he replies.

“Then ask her out on a date,” Caitlyn says pointedly. “Put the girl out of her misery and just ask her.”

“But flirting is half the fun!” he protests.

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. She glances over at the blonde girl who is very obviously staring at them. “She’s into you, you’re into her, just ask her on a date. Don’t be cruel.”

Jayce sighs. “You’re right.”

He gets up and squares his shoulders before making his way back to the counter.

“I didn’t mean now,” she mutters to herself. She takes a sip of her drink and unlocks her phone, figuring she may as well get familiar with her course guide while she’s got the time.

“He comes in here almost every day,” a voice says, interrupting Caitlyn’s thoughts.

She glances up to see the other barista wiping the table next to Caitlyn’s. “Really?” she asks, her gaze flicking over to where Jayce is putting his number into the blonde’s phone.

Pixie cut nods. “Yeah,” she says, “though he doesn’t usually stand there for ten minutes blatantly flirting like that. He must’ve got the courage up today.”

Caitlyn snorts. “He’s just showing off,” she replies, taking another sip of her drink while pixie cut moves to the other table near Caitlyn. “But he’s clearly smitten.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. I’m Summer, by the way,” she says.

Caitlyn smiles at her. “Caitlyn. It’s nice to share this weird experience with you.”

Summer smiles and nods. “The burden of watching our friends awkwardly flirt their way into a date.”

Caitlyn chuckles. “As long as it finally happens.”

The door to the café opens, and Summer gives her one more smile before going back behind the counter to serve the customer. A few moments later, Jayce sits back down in front of Caitlyn and smiles his big, goofy smile at her.

“Well?” she prompts.

“Amber and I are going on a date tomorrow night,” Jayce replies.

“Good,” Caitlyn says. “Now, let’s go, I want to get to the bookstore before it closes.”

Jayce nods and he waves at Amber, and Caitlyn chances a glance at Summer, who gives her a small wave as she leaves. Caitlyn might have to find a way to come back to this café, too, she thinks as she gets back into Jayce’s car.

After he shows her around all of his favourite spots, including the best place to get ice cream, and a bakery that Caitlyn will definitely be frequenting, they finally, finally make it to the bookstore. She notes that they have fifteen minutes before it closes, but she can’t bring herself to be upset at Jayce. He was too excited to share all of the places he loved, and Caitlyn got some good tips on places that she’ll definitely be checking out when she gets more time.

She’s rounding a corner to see if she can locate her last text book when she bumps into someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Caitlyn exclaims as books fall to the floor.

“It’s okay.”

Caitlyn glances up and sees it’s Summer from the café. She can’t help but smile. They both pick up their respective books, and Caitlyn takes a moment to appreciate the way Summer’s arms flex under the weight of the books she’s carrying.

“Psychology?” Caitlyn says, reading the title of the topmost book in Summer’s arms. “Heavy stuff.”

Summer gives her a sheepish smile. “It is, but it’s what I’m passionate about. What about you, what do you have?”

“I’m mostly shopping for my communications courses,” Caitlyn admits. “Everything else has been online, but this professor is strict on the physical book.”

Summer nods. “I’ve had some like that,” she says. “It’s always a shame when we never end up using the books, though.”

They chat for a few minutes before Jayce finds her and gives her a slight smirk.

“They’re closing up,” he says knowingly.

“Oh,” Caitlyn says. They both follow him to the check out and when they step out of the bookstore, Jayce helpfully takes her bag full of books to his car.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Summer asks.

Caitlyn can’t help but smile. “I’d love that,” she replies. They exchange numbers and Caitlyn slides back into Jayce’s car, feeling like she is definitely going to enjoy these next few months here at Piltover Academy.

When Caitlyn gets home, she tackles as much unpacking as she can. She puts her music on and makes an evening of it. She orders in some dinner, figuring she’ll do some grocery shopping the next day.

As she’s relaxing with her food, her phone pings with a message. She grins when she sees that it’s Summer, and she immediately responds.

Within minutes, Caitlyn has organised herself a date for the next night with Summer. She feels giddy at the thought.

~*~

While a bar isn’t her first choice of a date venue, Caitlyn can’t begrudge Summer’s location of choice. It’s close to eleven o’clock when she arrives, the loud music immediately filling her ears. There’s plenty of other Academy students around; some drinking, some dancing on the dancefloor over the other side of the room, and some playing pool. She surveys the space as she steps into the bar, her gaze trying to find that familiar pixie cut.

She spots Summer waiting at the bar and makes her way over.

“I hope I’m not late,” she says as she approaches Summer.

Summer turns her megawatt smile on Caitlyn. “Not at all. I’m just about to order – what will you have?”

“A cosmopolitan would be lovely,” Caitlyn replies.

A familiar head of pink hair appears before them and Caitlyn feels her gaze travelling over Vi’s bare arms before she can help herself. She’s wearing a similar white tank top like she had on the day before, showing off all of those glorious tattoos and her thick biceps.

“What’ll it be?” Vi asks, leaning over, undoubtedly so she can hear them over the noise.

“Two cosmos,” Summer replies.

Vi nods and then her gaze lands on Caitlyn. “Hey, fancy seeing you here!” she says with a grin. Her hands make quick work of making their drinks.

“I could say the same for you,” Caitlyn replies. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Vi grins. “I’ve worked here since I was eighteen.” Caitlyn just gives her a small smile and nods.

“Do you two know each other?” Summer asks, glancing between them.

“We’re neighbours,” Vi replies, setting their drinks in front of them a moment later.

“Oh,” Summer says.

Vi rattles off the price and Summer winces a little but Caitlyn hands over her card before Summer can even pull out a single note.

“I’ve got this one,” Caitlyn says as Vi takes her card to ring up their purchases. “You can get the next ones.”

Summer nods, a slight relieved smile on her face. “Do you want to go sit?”

“That would be lovely,” Caitlyn replies. She slides her card back into her clutch and follows Summer through the crowd of people to a thankfully empty booth.

“Who knew this place would be so busy on a Thursday night?” Caitlyn comments, her gaze flitting over the crowd.

“It’s busy every night,” Summer replies. “Is Vi really your neighbour?”

Caitlyn nods. “She lives in the townhouse next to mine,” she says. “Why?”

A look crosses Summer’s face. “She’s just… she’s a bit of a player. Or so I’ve heard.”

Caitlyn takes this information on board as she sips her drink. “Well I only met her just yesterday, so I can’t say I’ve heard those rumours.”

“Oh. Are you not from Piltover? I thought you were because of the accent.”

Caitlyn shrugs. “I was born here, but I spent the last eight years of my life in Ionia. I just moved back to Piltover recently.”

Summer perks up at that. “Why’d you move back?” she asks, sipping on her own drink.

Caitlyn fiddles with her napkin. “There’s a lot of reasons, but mostly I just wanted to try somewhere new.”

Summer nods. She asks several more questions about what it was like in Ionia, and what Caitlyn’s life was like there. She asks so many questions that it makes Caitlyn start to feel a little uncomfortable. So she suggests they dance. They abandon their empty glasses, and Caitlyn leads Summer onto the dancefloor.

The music is louder here, and there are several couples making out around them. She pulls Summer close, intent on not talking and just enjoying her closeness.

As the songs change, their bodies grow closer, and Caitlyn can feel Summer’s warmth all over her. She makes the first move, leaning in just enough so that Summer knows what she’s intending. She’s met with enthusiasm, Summer’s lips pressing into hers.

It isn’t the best kiss Caitlyn has ever experienced, but Summer is eager. They keep moving to the beat of the music, kissing, and dancing and kissing again. Caitlyn’s hand slides ever so slightly up the back of Summer’s shirt.

“I just wanted to tell you something,” Caitlyn starts, her lips close to Summer’s ear. Summer nods. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now. If you want a relationship, I’m not your woman.”

“That’s perfectly okay with me,” Summer says and her lips press against Caitlyn’s once more. She feels the moment things shift between them from just kissing into wanting something more.

“Come on,” Caitlyn says. She takes Summer’s hand in her own and leads her out of the bar. The rush of cool air hits Caitlyn’s face as they step out, making the skin of her arms goosebump.

“My place or yours?” Caitlyn suggests.

“I have housemates…” Summer admits with a sheepish grin.

“Mine it is then,” Caitlyn replies. They flag down a taxi and make the short distance to Caitlyn’s townhouse.

The moment they’re alone in her house, Caitlyn presses Summer up against the closed front door. Summer’s moans fill her ears as they kiss. Her hands move quickly, taking off Caitlyn’s top.

“Wow, your tits are amazing,” Summer says. Caitlyn smirks. She loves her boobs, they’re one of her best features, she thinks.

Unfortunately, Summer is a little too rough with her, and instead of the nipple pinch being pleasurable, it makes Caitlyn wince. But Summer doesn’t seem to notice. Caitlyn reaches for Summer’s own shirt, taking it off in one swift movement.

“Uh, do you have a bed?” Summer asks.

“Yes,” Caitlyn replies. She takes Summer’s hand and leads her upstairs and into her bedroom.

“Whoa your bed is huge,” Summer says with a gasp. Caitlyn glances over at it – she hasn’t ever slept on something smaller, so she wouldn’t know.

“Take off your trousers,” Caitlyn says and Summer gives her a lust-filled stare and quickly complies.

Caitlyn shucks off her own trousers, but leaves her knickers on. She gives Summer an appreciative look as she takes the other woman in. She’s clad in her underwear – a cute matching set in a lilac colour that Caitlyn can’t wait to get her out of. She can see Summer’s dark nipples through the sheer fabric of her bra and Caitlyn finds herself throbbing at the sight. She closes the distance between them once more, guiding Summer back onto the bed.

They shift to get comfortable and Summer’s legs wrap themselves around Caitlyn’s waist, effectively bringing her closer. She dips her head to kiss Summer again, taking it slower this time.

Caitlyn trails kisses down Summer’s neck, nipping playfully. She pauses when she gets to the top of her bra.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” she asks softly. “And anything you’d particularly like me to do?”

Summer shakes her head. “I’m good,” she replies breathily. “I love being eaten out.”

“That I can definitely do,” Caitlyn says. She lowers her head to Summer’s bra covered chest. The lace barely covers her smaller boobs, but her nipples are straining hard against the fabric, and that is something Caitlyn can work with.

Her tongue slides over the rough fabric, wetting Summer’s nipple. Summer arches into her touch, letting out a high-pitched moan. It’s a little distracting, but Caitlyn focuses her attention on Summer’s breast. Her free hand slides under the bra cupping her other breast, her thumb sliding over her hard nipple.

“Let me take this off,” Summer says, panting. She sits up just enough to take it off, throwing it to the floor.

“These too,” Caitlyn says, snapping the elastic of Summer’s knickers where they rest on her ass.

There’s some slightly awkward manoeuvring as they pull Summer’s knickers off. Caitlyn tosses them over her shoulder and smiles down at Summer. She takes off her own bra and throws it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Summer’s hands cup Caitlyn’s breasts, her thumbs sliding roughly against her nipples once more.

“Gentler,” Caitlyn says and Summer gives her a slightly shocked look, but Caitlyn kisses her before she can say anything.

Caitlyn slides her hand between their bodies, cupping Summer’s entire pussy, causing her to whine. She parts Summer’s folds, easily slipping one finger into her wetness. Summer’s body arches off the bed, pressing closer into Caitlyn’s hand.

She circles Summer’s clit as she kisses her way back down Summer’s chest, pausing to gently nip at the side of her breast before shifting down the bed. Summer’s legs fall open even wider, her wet pussy on display right in front of Caitlyn’s face.

It’s been too long since she’s been able to do this, and she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She covers Summer’s pussy with her mouth, drinking in the taste of her. Summer’s moans fill the room and her hand drops onto the back of Caitlyn’s head. Her fingers are a little too tight in Caitlyn’s hair, but she can’t bring herself to care right then. Not when her mouth is working Summer so perfectly.

She has missed this. She loves giving head and feeling someone’s thighs shake because of her touch. Summer is very responsive, which is something Caitlyn loves. She sucks on her clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub as she slides two fingers into Summer’s entrance. She moans at the feel of just how wet Summer is.

That is intoxicating to her every single time – knowing that she made someone that wet.

Summer’s moans are loud and high as Caitlyn fucks her. One of her heels digs painfully into Caitlyn’s back where it’s slung over her shoulder. Caitlyn ignores it in favour of focusing on bringing Summer to orgasm.

There’s a moment when Summer’s breath hitches and Caitlyn knows she’s close. Summer’s hand tightens in Caitlyn’s hair and she tugs as she comes, her legs trembling with the force of her orgasm.

Caitlyn slowly licks her clit again, enjoying the trembles from Summer’s body. She slides her fingers out of Summer, wiping them on her sheets. She presses a kiss to Summer’s thigh before shifting up the bed next to her.

“Give me a minute and I’ll return the favour,” Summer says, a blissful smile on her face.

A few seconds later, she falls asleep.

Caitlyn blinks, looking down at her. She sighs to herself and gets up, heading to her bathroom. She washes her hands and brushes her teeth, figuring she may as well kill time while she’s waiting for Summer to wake back up.

When she returns to her bedroom, Summer is curled on her side, facing Caitlyn’s window.

“Summer,” she says softly. She gently shakes the other woman’s shoulder and is surprised when she doesn’t even budge.

This isn’t something Caitlyn likes – sharing a bed with someone. She likes her space. She likes having her bed to herself, and she definitely doesn’t like sharing a bed with what is meant to be a one night stand. She rarely sleeps well when someone else is in her bed, and while she hopes tonight will be different, she won’t be surprised if it isn’t.

With a sigh, Caitlyn plugs her phone in to charge, seeing that it’s almost 2 am. She settles back into her pillows, resigning herself to the fact that she’s going to be sharing her space with Summer until the other woman wakes up.

As she predicted, Caitlyn barely sleeps. She feels the second the bed shifts under Summer’s weight as she wakes up. She rolls over and gives Caitlyn a happy, sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” Summer says, her voice thick with sleep.

Caitlyn gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Good morning.”

“…Did you not sleep well?” Summer asks.

“Not particularly,” she replies, unable to be anything but honest. “I don’t usually let one night stands sleep over.”

“Oh,” Summer says, her voice sounding small.

“Would you like me to call you a taxi?” Caitlyn asks, getting out of bed. She throws on her favourite comfort pyjama pants and a loose shirt. She knows she’s being a bit abrupt with Summer, but she just wants her space back.

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

Caitlyn notices that Summer’s tone is a little flat and she unplugs her phone to order a taxi for Summer.

“It’ll be about ten minutes,” Caitlyn says.

“Okay,” Summer says. She’s finally dressed and she gives Caitlyn an expectant look.

“I’ll walk you out,” Caitlyn says.

Summer shoots her an incredulous look and Caitlyn chooses to ignore it. She opens her front door and lets Summer step out first.

“So, this is probably a long shot considering your whole…” Summer gestures to Caitlyn’s face. “But would you like to go out again sometime?”

Caitlyn shakes her head. “Sorry,” she says. “I did say last night that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Summer nods. “For what it’s worth, I had a good time.”

Caitlyn gives her a small smile. “I’m glad,” she replies. She bites back a sigh of relief when a taxi pulls up a moment later.

She has no idea what possesses Summer to lean forwards like she’s going to kiss Caitlyn goodbye, but Caitlyn swiftly turns her cheek, and Summer’s lips land with an awkward movement.

“Have a good weekend,” Caitlyn says.

Summer huffs and gets into the taxi, leaving Caitlyn standing there. She turns her back on it once it’s out of sight and runs a hand over her face.

“Well, that was awkward as fuck.”

Caitlyn startles at the voice and she drops her hands to see Vi sitting on the top step leading up to her house. She smirks at Caitlyn, bringing her mug to her lips and taking a drink. She’s still wearing the same outfit from the night before, so Caitlyn figures she must have only got home a short while ago.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asks, hoping she won’t be too embarrassed here.

“Oh, the whole thing,” Vi says. “Like I said: that was awkward as fuck.”

Caitlyn tips her head back and groans frustratedly. She covers her face with her hands again and sighs before running her hands through her hair. She gathers her hair up into a ponytail and quickly secures it in place with the hair tie that is around her wrist.

“May I sit?” Caitlyn asks, gesturing to the empty space next to Vi.

“Be my guest,” Vi says.

Caitlyn closes the distance between them and sits next to Vi. She brings her knees right up to her chest and wraps her arm around her legs.

“I gotta be honest,” Vi starts, “I thought you and that Jayce guy were together.”

She knows her entire face looks revolted at the suggestion but it makes Vi laugh, and Caitlyn decides right then that it’s one of the best sounds in the world.

“Even if I wasn’t a raging lesbian, he’s literally like a brother to me,” she explains.

“Noted, Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Nice pyjamas,” Vi points out. Caitlyn flushes. “For someone who just said goodbye to a very gorgeous woman, you don’t seem that happy?”

Caitlyn shrugs. “It just wasn’t the best sex I’ve had.”

“Well now I have to know,” Vi says, sounding delightfully intrigued.

With a sigh, Caitlyn presses her face into her knees. “She fell asleep after I ate her out and then wouldn’t even wake up to leave.”

She has no idea what kind of reaction she expects from Vi, but it isn’t laughter. She shoots Vi an incredulous look and Vi just shakes her head.

“I needed that,” she says, setting her mug down behind her.

Caitlyn knows she’s probably pouting, but she can’t help it. She has no idea what could be funny about what she just said.

“I take it you don’t like people staying over?” Vi says. She shifts her body so her back is leaning against the railing. Caitlyn copies her, and their knees bump together, but Vi doesn’t move, so she doesn’t either.

“Not really,” Caitlyn replies. “I was very clear it was just sex, but she fell asleep. I don’t tend to sleep well when other people are there.”

Vi nods. She reaches for her mug again and takes a long sip. “Are you an only child?” she asks.

Caitlyn blinks. “Yes. How did you know?”

The smirk that crosses Vi’s face Caitlyn can only describe as beautiful.

“I have three siblings,” Vi says. “We’ve all shared a bed at one point. You get used to it.”

Caitlyn considers this. She nods and looks down at her hands, tapping one thumb on top of the other. “So, what are you doing out here so early?”

Vi looks down at her phone where it’s resting on the deck. “Well, I got dumped about twenty minutes ago now. So I’m just… here.”

“Oh, Vi, I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn says.

Vi just shrugs. “It was inevitable,” she replies. She sounds sadder than she looks, though, Caitlyn notes. “My girlfriend… well my ex now – Annie – she’s in a band, and they just got signed with some big wig label, and are going on tour. She didn’t want to do long distance, so here I am.”

Caitlyn presses her knee a little more into Vi’s. “That… well that sucks.”

Vi huffs a small laugh and nods. “Yeah, it does,” she replies, sounding a little sad. “It does.”

Silence falls between them and Caitlyn knows this is their longest interaction yet but she can’t help but think she and Vi just formed a connection that she hopes doesn’t break any time soon.

[justanotherlifeff]

Frayed Threads of Fate

Scaramouche/Kabukimono/Wanderer x Reader

Read full fic at AO3

(Kitsunes fall in love only once. It is said that the legend of the red string of fate was born from this very notion—a bond so absolute that neither time nor destiny could sever it. A tale of destined lovers, woven into the pages of Inazuman light novels, romanticized and reimagined, yet so far removed from human experience that it was dismissed as mere fantasy.

And yet, the frayed red string hanging loosely from your pinky told a very different story.

[The story will take place in two different timelines. First, timeline 1 where Scaramouche was still the 6th harbinger, though it will begin from much before his Kabukimono days and go from there. There would be more of timeline 1 than timeline 2, and a lot of character interactions as the fanfic is more based on the relationship between Y/N and Scaramouche in his Kabukimono era, Kunikuzushi era and ofcourse, Scaramouche era. Second, timeline 2 which is Sumeru during in-game canon era after Wanderer got his memories back and tries to reconcile with the past he had with Y/N. There will be angst. Lots of angst. And a lot of triggering material as mentioned by the tags so be warned. Reader is a kitsune yokai and Yae Miko's half sister.])

Prologue

Godhood—an illusion, a meaningless ambition that he had once chased with relentless fervor. For centuries, he had believed in its promise, in the idea that divinity would grant him purpose, significance. And yet, in the end, it had amounted to nothing. No throne, no reverence, no grand design had awaited him at the finish line. Just the same cruel, indifferent world that had never once bent to his will.

Even erasing himself from Irminsul had done little to change the course of fate. He had thought—perhaps naively—that by vanishing, he could grant a better future to those whose misfortunes had been intertwined with his existence. That by severing himself from history, he could unmake the past, untangle the suffering that had taken root because of him. But the world did not grieve his absence. It did not stumble. It merely shifted, adjusted, rewrote itself to accommodate the void he left behind. And still, the same tragedies unfolded. The same people suffered—not by his hand this time, but by coincidence, by fate's own cruel design.

So what had he accomplished?

When the Dendro Archon returned his memories, when the Traveler stood before him under the shade of that sunsettia tree and told him that his life was not meaningless—that he had been a villain, yes, but a villain desperate for meaning—he hadn't known whether to laugh or to cry. What a pathetic joke. He had struggled, fought, abandoned, and betrayed, all in pursuit of something that had never existed in the first place. And even when he had given up, even when he had tried to rewrite his own story by erasing himself, the world had simply continued on as if he had never mattered.

Wanderer exhaled sharply, an almost bitter chuckle escaping his lips. Nothing had really changed. Or so he thought.

"Unfortunately, your place was taken by another lost soul."

Nahida’s words made him pause, his brow arching in faint curiosity. Another lost soul? Who could possibly take his place? Had another puppet been woven into the fabric of this timeline, doomed to walk the same miserable path he had barely escaped?

"Who took my place?" The question left his lips before he had fully processed it, driven less by concern and more by a detached, lingering curiosity—who else could be unfortunate enough to inherit the burden of his existence?

Nahida’s gaze was gentle, yet her words carried the weight of inevitability. "She goes by the Harbinger title 'Trouvère.' Though her true name is Y/N. Does the name ring a bell?"

For a moment, the world stood still. Then, the ground beneath him may as well have shattered. Y/N. A name he had buried, a presence he had long since abandoned to the past for the sake of moving forward—no, for the sake of severing all that made him weak. And yet, here it was again, spoken aloud with the finality of a cruel joke. Fate was merciless. He had sacrificed everything, erased himself from history to grant others a future untouched by his shadow. And in doing so, he had unknowingly condemned the only woman he had ever loved. Condemned her to his existence.

The weight of it settled like iron in his chest. She had inherited his suffering, his mistakes, his path paved with ruin. And he had been blind to it, believing that nothing had changed. But everything had changed. In the worst ways possible. The God of Wisdom had an irritating habit of reading minds.

"Come on," Nahida urged, a knowing glint in her eyes. "She’s staying in one of the chambers of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. You could meet her—perhaps talk to her—since she hasn't exactly been cooperative." She offered a sheepish smile, as if her words weren’t about to upend what little composure he had left.

The Wanderer exhaled, still attempting to process the revelation that, in another timeline, his villainy had persisted without him. And now, this—an echo of the past given form in the present. How difficult could this be? So he followed her.

To see her again. The woman who, despite everything, would have followed him to her death. No matter how many times he pushed her away, no matter how many times he abandoned her, she had remained. Devoted. Unwavering. What would she be like now? He had once heard a saying—kitsunes love only once. And in that other life, she had given that love to him. Had dedicated herself to him entirely, with a faith so unshakable it bordered on foolishness.

But without him, without the man she had once chased through storm and fire… Who had she become? The Sanctuary of Surasthana was as serene as ever, its halls steeped in quiet reverence. The air carried a sense of stillness, undisturbed, as if the world beyond its walls did not exist. Yet, for all its tranquility, peace was the last thing in the Wanderer’s heart. Was he even ready to face you? You, who had given up so much. You, whom he had already shattered once—perhaps beyond repair—only to somehow find a way to wound you again, even in a world where he no longer existed.

Did he even have the right?

The question settled heavily in his mind, an echo of doubt and guilt. Yet, despite everything, his feet carried him forward. Whether it was curiosity, obligation, or something deeper, he did not know. All he knew was that soon, he would see you again. And he was terrified of what he might find. The Wanderer had crossed many thresholds in his lifetime—or perhaps, in another lifetime entirely. Doors that led to places he was never meant to enter, boundaries he had shattered, choices that had shaped him into the person he was now. And yet, standing before this one, he hesitated.

Crossing the threshold of your chambers felt different. It was suffocating. A part of him wanted to turn back, to disappear before you could ever realize he was there. But he owed the Dendro Archon—owed her enough to see this through, even if every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave. So he stepped forward. Not for himself, not for you, but to ease a debt. And there you were. Sitting at a desk, your back to him, unaware—or perhaps unwilling to acknowledge—his presence. For all his apprehension, for all the ways he had braced himself, he still wasn’t prepared for this.

"I have no intention of cooperating, Buer. It doesn’t matter which one of your little followers you’ve dragged along this time."

Your voice cut through the chamber like a blade, sharp with exhaustion, laced with irritation. You weren’t speaking to him. You hadn’t even spared him a glance. No, your words were directed at none other than the Dendro Archon herself. Nahida, ever patient, merely sighed. "You may want to speak with him, Y/N," she said, unshaken by your hostility. "He has a rather interesting story—one that heavily relates to you."

And at that, you finally turned. Your gaze met his. For a fleeting moment, there was nothing. No flicker of recognition, no sign that his presence meant anything at all to you. Your eyes were empty, hollow—disinterested, as though he were no more than a stranger in passing. Then, in the space of a single breath, something shifted. Your expression flickered—widened—not in recognition, but in something far more visceral.

Your gaze dropped, fixating on his hand. On something unseen to anyone else in the room. And then the air snapped taut with killing intent. The shift was instantaneous. Before he could react, before he could so much as breathe, you moved. A blur of motion—then impact. The world tilted. His back hit the ground, breath ripped from his lungs as fingers clamped around his throat, pressing just enough to burn. Sharp nails dug into his skin, and your grip was ironclad, unyielding.

Fox ears flattened against your head, your pupils blown wide, wild with something between rage and fear. The unmistakable aggression of a kitsune yokai.

"Who the fuck are you?"

[doctorpleasant]

So you’re saying the brutal enforcer of the ruthless drug lord who fractured the Underground gets to represent the people of Zaun instead of, idk, one of the Firelights?

[xxplastic-cubexx]

after finally playing scarlet witch long enough to get this icon ive decided that you really have to love wanda to get this icon

anyway Bonus cause Heh....... Fam.....

[oftheriverseine]

KALOS.

YES!! Pikachu and Bunnelby should’ve had a much stronger friendship, and while Dedenne was close-ish with Pikachu and Eevee with Bunnelby, them being a group of four seems super fun! Plus, they could parallels their trainers; the journey started out as Ash + Clemont + Bonnie and Serena joined a little later.

I love the idea of Eevee’s escape in the Anistar showcase being a Pokémon-only adventure, and I think it’d be funny if Ash realizes Eevee’s missing but Pikachu reassures him that they’ll find it. And then after Serena goes on (hopefully by the time Eevee’s returned) Ash and Pikachu have to explain that Eevee ran away in between. Maybe Bunnelby and Dedenne also help search, or even Chespin!

I’ve actually thought of messing with the timeline to give each Pokémon adequate time at each of their Evo stages, and for Serena’s mons this means more Showcases!! Silver’s ideas for Showcases are incredible so that’s mostly my reference, but we talked about their origins in Silver’s AU as festivals of sorts celebrating a powerful kind and peaceful trainer, and I’m thinking that it could justify more Showcases across different towns (and be a cool way to show more of Kalos’s and each specific city’s culture)!

All this to say that Eevee should get to experience 3 Showcases as an Eevee; the one it sees firsthand, and two others (the Couriway Town one being one of them). And for its second performance it should absolutely get to use a Fairy Type move. That is all.

I’m torn because I do like Serena putting Eevee’s comfort over her own wishes in that episode, but the Amour potential… maybe we could have Serena still do that, or even have other moments that show her putting not just Eevee but her other Pokémon first, but then Bonnie, or even Ash, mention how Eevee’s gotten more comfortable with other pokemon, like, for example, Pikachu? :)

Miette and Clemont interacting sounds fun, actually :D and I’d also like to see Shauna at the Dance, if possible. Man…

You’ve made your point! Meyer stays an electric Gym leader. Though, if I ever get around to modding my planned XZYZ, Meyer’s gonna be a fire-type gym leader (while Clemont’s gonna be part of the Elite 4) (I’d actually love to talk about my plans for XZ YZ games so if you’re curious send an ask or something /nf)

And to your note With the amount of random, circumstantial struggles Serena faces in canon-proper, you’d really think the universe was out to get her. LET HER FLAWS (which we talked about with Silver) OF GIVING UP EASILY, BEING SELFLESS, AND HOLDING GRUDGES (along the lines of remembering what people have done for/to her) ACTUALLY BE RELEVANT. LET HER MISUNDERSTAND HER MOM, OR GARY, OR MIETTE. LET HER CONSIDER THAT MAYBE HER DREAM IS DEAD WHEN SHE LOSES THAT FIRST SHOWCASE; MAYBE THATS WHY SHE’S SO DISTRAUGHT. LET HER PUSH HERSELF IN TRAINING UNTIL SHE’S SICK, OR GIVE UP OPPORTUNITIES FOR THE SAKE OF HER POKÉMON AND FRIENDS.

The whole gag with Clemont’s inventions exploding because he’s a bad inventor ™ ran dry for me after the first 5 episodes, so giving them a reason would be fun. Maybe Clemont makes it a goal early on to create an electricity-powered thing that can withstand Pikachu’s voltage, and theres an episode where he succeeds (maybe even in the episode where Team Rocket commissions him? So the fact that they have to destroy that invention has some weight. And then there’s a lesson about accepting your limits etc etc). It could also be (yet another) way to explore living alongside Pokémon and working with them outside the battling scene :D

I think all the Pokémon should get to hear another person’s thoughts about their trainer. Maybe even have it be something unique of the core 4 rodents (+ Eevee). Pikachu has moments with Clemont, Bonnie, and Serena about how Ash inspired them; in one of those episodes where everyone gets separated, Ash or Serena make a remark of how Bunnelby is similar to Clemont, and how much they appreciate him on the team; Serena has a heart-to-heart with Dedenne about how even Bonnie has a dream, and how bright she is, one night when they’re sharing a tent; and Ash talks to Eevee at some point, or even Sylveon, about how special Serena is to him. (Also I’m realizing Eevee is the only one out of that group of 4 that actually evolves… something something Serena going through the most dramatic change on the journey)

The dilemma you’ve caused in me… Night Slash or Low Kick… I’ll be thinking about this a lot I fear /lh. And more Pikachu/Greninja training is always a plus!

I’m writing the “Gang meets Mairin and travels out of Lumiose with her before they part ways” episode as we speak. Maybe Mairin tells Alain about Ash too, when they meet.

I love the idea of having Diantha / Sycamore / Lysandre parallel Ash / Clemont / Serena. No notes. What I will give (/pos) notes on is just. Every one of the original Kalos gang seeing themselves in Ash. Sycamore in his enthusiasm and love of pokemon. Diantha in his battling prowess and spirit. Lysandre, in a twisted sense, in his drive to make the world a better place.

On the topic of the movie, the 3 antagonists could hint to future roles of importance; the Delphox trainer hints to Team Flare, the Greninja trainer hints to Ninja Village, and the Chesnaught trainer hints to… I’m actually not sure, but definitely to something Zygarde related.

EMMA!! And the return of Looker, too!! A mini episode about Essentia, ending with a Flare boss grumbling about how that experiment was ruined… at risk of sounding like Cilan, I can already taste the potential :>

If you could send me the fic I’d love to read it!! But yeah. Yeah yeah yeah yeah. I think it’d be especiallt funny if Serena just. Loathes Gary. More onto her holding grudges in a bit, but Gary arrives at Sycamore’s lab because of an errand, Sycamore gets along with him, Ash and co are traveling through Lumiose again, everyone likes Gary, they’re having a fun time, and then Serena just goes “YOU.” and tries to kill him with her mind XD and Gary can’t help but be snarky, though they eventually get along by the end of the episode or two.

Maybe Gary and Serena even strike up an odd friendship, and find themselves reminiscing over camp, over things that Ash forgot. Or… Gary stays as a temporary student to Sycamore?? The series would have the chance to use him a bit more than DP did, expand on Megas via a friendly connection to Sycamore’s lab, and also I just think its best. I feel like he and Alain would get on each other’s nerves, so to give them something in common would be cool. Gary would piss off like 2 people in the entire Kalos region (Serena and Alain) and no one else would understand why.

And on the topic of pettiness. Im skipping around but OMG MIETTE AND SERENA AS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS 👀 I love that so much, actually. I think it’d be even funnier if Serena remembers Miette (especially if Miette made fun of her / bullied her when she was younger) but Miette just. Did not care. Or she did remember her but pretends she doesn’t to get on Serena’s nerves. And it’d fit with her petty, mischievous personality. Miette really is a character who enjoys teasing others, but she’s not downright mean, so we could either make her more an early-Gary type character or lean into her love of causing problems on purpose. (I’d also think that, similar to Kenny with Dawn, she could have a one-sided crush on Serena)

I’m actually thinking about Miette’s goal possibly being more baking-oriented, at least initially; she’s entering baking competitions and the sort, and in her first on-screen appearance she goads Serena into also participating. However, in their second meeting, it’s Serena who inspires challenges Miette to do Showcases, and she ends up fond of them, making her routines around culinary stuff.

If we add the Elite 4 at some point, I also think it’d be interesting if Miette studied under Siebold, both in culinary endeavors and in battling endeavors. And, perhaps, a Miette v Ash battle? I dunno, I have so many thoughts and it’s fun to brainstorm :D

Onto…

AMOUR!

Seriously!! Serena is a girl with a crush and some people treat her as everything wrong with the state of the world. She handles it very maturely as well :D accepting it (and being the first and only main character with a crush on Ash to do so) while not letting it get in the way of the bond, friendship or otherwise, that she wants to grow with Ash, and with Clemont and Bonnie!!

I feel like. The writers, when it came to Ash and Amour, fell into the trap of making a character not care about another character at all as a shortcut to showing obliviousness. I think its so much sweeter if Ash just, really likes Serena, so much that he doesn’t realize that there’s a difference between his platonic love for her and whatever romantic feelings that spring up. Being so gone you don’t notice until you’re already there. (And it also adds to aro Ash because that’s how a lot of aro/arospec people will experience falling in love / getting a crush but yknow)

Honestly I see your gripes with both moments. I think I was just glad to have something, yknow? I love your idea for XY021, and for XY040, we could have a mix of both; Serena’s throwing herself into Pokevision because it could be her dream, but it doesn’t feel right, and so she’s distracted. Ash tries to talk to her earlier on in the episode, but she assures him she’s fine, and then later they still fall down the ravine and get another, more serious heart-to-heart.

Calem appearing in the Summer Camp arc seems fun, but I prefer Miette as a childhood friend acquaintance. He could still appear in a minor role though!

I like the idea of downtime during the League, especially if we combine it with the Masterclass. Serena and Shauna getting dinner, maybe, while waiting for Ash, Tierno, and Trevor to get back from training; Lysandre being introduced as the League’s sponsor, and talking with Alain; the characters trading stories <3

And I like the idea of Ash and Serena tag-battling Diantha. I think Serena is a character that battles more out of necessity than anything; she doesn’t hate it, but she doesn’t get an adrenaline rush from it either. This would be a good place to explore that, and also explore Ash’s love for battling in a post-battle conversation (at night under the Alolan Kalosian moon)

with that, onto…

ALOLA.

I think Stufful / Bewear would fit Mallow, and I’d keep her temporary partnership with Shaymin, as well as add Fomantis to her roster. Plus, Rowlet (except it can actually evolve) (plus it parallels her to Hau even more)

For Lana, Mimikyu would be fun as her non-water type, and give her Dewpider (as a reference to Ultra Moon) or Mareanie. I’d keep Sandy but have it evolve into Vaporeon.

Kiawe would keep Turtinator but also obtain Litten the same way Ash did, and I think it’d be fun if he got Pa’u Oricorio so he has a Psychic type (connects to Tapu Lele) and a Pokémon from Akala. I’d like to give him one more Pokémon so each companion has 4; maybe Alolan Marrowak?

Sophocles would have Togedemaru, ofc, and Grubbin. I think a Magnemite would be a nice way to connect him to Mohn, and then maybe even the Minior he bonded with that one episode!

…is it bad that I’m starting to low-key ship Mallow and Hau? What can I say; I’m a sucker for character parallels 😅

Yeah, I’ll figure it out! If I need to talk it out more with you, I’ll just mention it here, or DM you (if you’re ok with that)

Thanks!!

hey so I know we talked a little about Kalos with Silver (for their Kalosian Woods AU) but I was rereading your one post thread about the character arc shown from Unova to Kalos to Alola and how Kalos wouldn’t have really been a narratively satisfying League win for Ash in the grand scheme of the Pokemon anime. Your analysis gave me a new appreciation for what the Alola League did and also for the inter-region story that was developed with Ash and his desire to win.

At the same time, however, I’ve been thinking about how the main XYZ writers originally wanted Kalos to be a league win for Ash, and how, combined with the final episodes of XYZ, how it did feel like they were trying to end Ash’s story there (no transition to the next region, etc). And Im thinking about how, in an alternate timeline, we could’ve gotten that and might’ve even had an Alola anime with a new protagonist, if they’d wanted to end Ash’s story with Kalos.

So I was wondering, what changes would you make to Ash’s XYZ character that would make a Kalos League win feel thematically appropriate and satisfying? Would you change anything about his dynamics with the rest of the group?

And what would you have liked from a SM/Alola anime with a different protagonist? Do you think they would’ve been able to maintain the theme of family and the culture the anime proper gave Alola? With a new protagonist, would you have had Guzma win the league, or them, or someone else entirely?

This really is just to bounce off ideas, so don’t feel like you need to respond.

Ok, first I think getting a run-down of why Kalos wouldn't be a good place to end things is a good starting point:

Ash's pokemon (other than a certain frog) are barely relevant

Kalos had a laser focus on Greninja and that's the season's biggest flaw in my eyes. Pokemon got lucky if they had episodes beyond the ones where they evolved, with Goodra and Noivern being the most blatant examples of that.None of them had super close connections with Ash and the fact some of them never even had any relevant battles before the league would make such important win along them feel extremely dissatisfying for me.

Compare that to Alola, where Ash actually had super close bonds with each pokemon he caught (save for Melmetal tbh) and how each of them had arcs in the league itself!

That's awesome! And that's the right only way for Ash to have a League win! It got to be something he does along his pokemon. Not just for himself.

Also, Ash winning any league wouldn't be as impactful if it was not by Pikachu's side (and I can assure that Kalos wouldn't allow anyone one other than Greninja to take down Diantha's Gardevoir if we came to that).

JNs was not the best and Alola's battles could have been better sure, but the fact Pikachu was there in the last battle as Ash's final pokemon in both instances is cathartic. Pikachu is Ash's extension! It's important for Pikachu to be there in the finale along Ash for such important moments for them. Kalos would not have done that.

The companions and Ash are not that close

Sorry not sorry but the "Kalos fam" has some of the most superficial dynamics of all the anime.

Serena and Ash's relationship (which was even supposed to be more than friendship) is painful to watch at times. Ash doesn't seem to like her much, not ever trying to learn about her (even with her saying they DID met before) and in general is very one-sided.

And the same can be said about Clemont. He sees Ash as this amazing trainer he has to aim towards, but other than the "science is amazing" comments, Ash doesn't seem to reciprocate at all.

Neither of them help eachother with their goals other than some few times Clemont and Ash trained. Like, compared to May, with whom Ash was very invested in getting her to find something to do at the beggining and how he showed even more interest in her goal around Battle frontier. Dawn (nuff said). Iris, with whom he trained plenty of times. Lillie, who he put lots of effort into helping with her fear of pokemon (and even sometimes Mallow's and Sophocles' episodic goals).

Gosh, even certain characters of the day got more of Ash's support than Serena and Clemont, with Korrina being the most obvious and funny example. Ash gets so attached to her, her training and her wish to become stronger and they interact SO naturally that is always funny to see how the writers can write such good dynamics between Ash and this one gym girl but not yknow, his "kalosian family". And dont dare to say that he is only like that because she wants to be stronger. Clemont wants that too and Ash doesn't give a SHIT!

Ash is a character that cares a lot for others and the fact he seemed to care so little for his Kalos friends is painful to watch (specially with how much Clemont and Serena ADORE him!)

A season where Ash wins a league shouldn't be about only him achieving something (which Kalos totally feels like). It should be something more. Something about how Ash being with those people helped them grow, about how they helped him grow, and how much they matter to him.

Kalos is not a relevant place for Ash himself

There's nothing about how Kalos is written that makes the region or the people in there feel special for Ash.

Honestly this can be said to all regions. I'm a Sinnoh apologist but even I admit that Ash becoming Sinnoh champion wouldn't be the most interesting for him as he doesn't have a super strong connection with it other than Dawn, Paul and kinda of Cynthia.

In Kalos he surely had Serena, Clemont, Bonnie; And Sycamore, Korrina, Alain and Diantha can be added into the list too if we force it a bit. But there's nothing about Kalos itself that makes it stand out as a region Ash would want to "reign", you get me? Maaaybeeee the romance thing with Serena could make it more relevant, but that was done poorly and doesn't count enough for me.

To be completely honest, the most satisfactory region for Ash to win up to gen6 would totally have been Kanto. That's his home, where he was born, his mom is there, lots of his friends (brock, misty, gary, oak, tracey) are there. That's where he met Pikachu.

No other region felt as special up till Alola. And sure it is super cheesy at times, but it works!

With those in mind, I think is also worth noting how Kalos' beggining and ending are smh detached from the middle story and how that lack of planning is one of the reasons the writing in that season is so irritating for me.

Like, we have the first 2 episodes of Kalos that stabilish:

That Clemont lost his gym to his own robot.

That Clemont's father is a superhero.

That Serena knows Ash for a while now.

And then in the Flare Finale, we have the payoff to those things, with:

Clembot dying.

Clemont and Bonnie discovering (with the most lukewarm reactions my I add) that Myers is Blaziken Mask.

Serena kissing Ash.

And that's the thing. Other than in the beggining and ending: THOSE THINGS DONT MATTER!!!!

Clemont losing the gym to Clembot is resolved in ep9 and that whole thing about him losing the gym matters nothing in the long run other than that we lose the precious potential of having a Heliolisk in the main gang!

Meyer NEVER appears outside of the starting and ending arcs!

Serena and Ash BARELY interact in any meaningful way in the WHOLE anime and their friendship is one of the weakest between all main characters!

For any of the above to hold weight, there should have been more moments in the actual anime building up to it. Clemont's gym thing should have been more important than just the place where Ash jumped off from; Meyer should have been a more relevant character; Ash should have been a better friend to Serena if they wanted to sell the idea that this girl really feel for this version of him when he is extremely neutral to her at best (and a complete jerk at worse).

Honestly for a Kalos league win to feel earned, a whole rewrite from ep 7 to 136 would be needed for me lol

Make Serena's "give up too fast" into an actual character trait and not something her mom said once. Have her try things (SPECIALLY BATTLES) and give up! Have Ash help her with those things and try his optimistic "dont give up" bullshit only for it to backfire on her because it's not easy for everybody to be like that.

And not rushing her into "doing something" because they wasted 50 episodes not trying anything with her beforehand! It's fine that Serena took so long to find what she wanted to do, but the fact she didn't try anything or had any moment focused on her struggling with that beforehand IS NOT!

Have Clemont learn something from Ash too. Have his struggle with maintaining the Gym and what it all means to him hold more weight! Have Clemont try Ash's humanxpokemon training a few times so he can build up his confidence. Have that lil tidbit we saw before his battle with Ash and what it means to be a Gym Leader be an integral part of his character! Have his inventions be more relevant than just some gag. Have him and Serena be closer because they "arent like Ash, but they want to be".

Have Ash affect them, but also have them affect Ash more! Have Ash learn how to dance with Serena and have that stick! Combine that with Counter Shield and make that move go from "ash and dawn's thing" to "ash and ALL HIS FRIENDS's thing" QAQ Have Ash learn some strategies from Clemont too and use his inventions during his pokemon training!

HAVE THE DAMN POKEMON INTERACT WITH ONE ANOTHER AND WITH TRAINERS OTHER THAN THEIR OWN!!

Gosh, seriously, the fact I can count on one hand the amount of times Ash ever acknowledged Fennekin's existence is terrible! The pokemon should be as relevant as people in the goddamn pokemon anime and that's one thing Kalos failed to get that all other seasons get (maybe not JNs).

We could have had so much more SerenaxHawlucha moments if they weren't cowards. That bird would have LOVED showcases and the fact Hawlucha never saw a single one of those shows how much Kalos' writing fails at making those characters feel connected with their stupid "only one person at the spotlight each time" approach. If an episode is about Serena, only her pokemon appear; If its about Clemont, only his pokemon appear; if is about Ash, good luck having screen time even if you're a human. And that's bad. That should not be the approach to a pokemon season, let alone the season where the MC is supposed to achieve his most important goal!

But let's say that Kalos ends as it is and Ash wins. I think another year and another 50 or so episodes would be needed still. To have Ash go throught the same arc he went throught Alola, but in Kalos.

Maybe we could have a rewrite from Snowbelle onwards.

Maybe after how Ash acts when she was just trying to help, Serena could leave the gang (I know it sounds like me being a hater but HEAR ME OUT). Ash hurt her feelings, treated her horribly right before and is not like she has a reason to stay other than to cheer for him in the league. So she leaves (and I keep thinking on expanding the idea of her final words being something like "I thought you were different" to add to "that's not you" she says in that episode).

And that's what gets Ash to realize he messed up. If he got the kindest girl in the world fed up with his bullshit is because he messed up big time.

And I like the promise he makes with Greninja, about starting from zero, and that could be what he does here.

But to what extend, i dont know.. I keep thinking that he could rechallenge gym leaders and about Hoenn's battle frontier to tie in with Hoenn remakes, but neither of those sound right (specially since he already did the battle frontier).

Maybe a Brandon re-challenge in specific? Since Ash never won against him fully and to parallel Paul back in DP?

Or maybe a small arc of him re-challenging the gym leaders in the Battle Chateau (it could work as JN's world championship tbh)?

Maybe he goes back to Lumiose with Clemont and we have a bit more of Meyer too to salvage THAT plot point. And maybe Sycamore could even give him mega stones to help him "start over" :0c Maybe he could then bring back reserves to tie in everything properly?

I dont know.

What I know is: It would be nice to follow a bit of Serena's side too! Maybe she could just go back home or go all the way to Hoenn and start doing contests! And we could see her growing into more of her own person and expanding the abilities she never explored before (LIKE BATTLING WHY SHE NEVER BATTLED?) and existing outside of Ash yknow!?

And more importantly, on Ash's side, I think it would be a great chance of showing his feelings for Serena in this "arc" if they really wanted to make them endgame.

Like, have him realize how much he misses her, how her support was way more important to him than he expected and have him realize how the people around you are more important than winning or something. Same message from Alola but with that romantic twist Kalos yearns for.

Have Ash grow into "the person he really is" for Serena mostly. And have him reach for her just to show her that (perhaps in a battle :3c) and have her finally back into the gang after he proves just how much he really cares.

And then league goes same way I guess. Except Greninja gets backseated for the finale cause I say so.

Now, SunMoon!

Alola would totally maintain the family theme no matter what, yes!

Alola's core theme is "finding a place where you belong" after all. We can see that in the games too, with Lillie's problems with her mother; Gladion who keeps this split life of "do I protect my sister or do I embrace Team Skull"; How Team Skull themselves is a bunch of kiddos that failed the island challenge and have nowhere to be due to that. Even the protag that comes from a whole nother region to find themselves adapting to a new life.

That's also why letting Ash win there, the kid who never had a place to belong despite 20 years of going around, is very satisfactory too.

But doing that with any main character that feels displaced in their own home would have been good ngl (making the MC Selene instead of Helio and expand on that outcast feel with some queer-coding in her relationship with Lillie would be awesome ôwô)

I also keep thinking of the idea of cutting the middle man and upgrading Lillie into full main character.

Ash stole Nebby from her, but lets say that the anime goes kinda the same way but the Tapus give Lillie Nebby instead. It would be interesting.

Have her try and protect it while also hiding it from her mom. Have her learn to battle to protect it and slowly grow stronger herself. I just like the idea of Lillie becoming a battler ok? It feels like the natural progression from scared girl who can't talk back to her mom /scared of pokemon > to girl who can fight for her ideals along the pokemon that took her in when no one else did.

Have her go with it as Solgaleo after her mom and save her with the pokemon that has always been by her side! The Pokemon that felt more like family than her own. Good stuff!

But the league.. I dont know honestly. If we keep this idea of Lillie as MC, down to living with Kukui and finding a family under him, it can work the same way in the anime, just put Lillie in Ash's place.

But I know the anime would never so. Idk. I still think a GuzmaxKukui battle would be good no matter what so Lillie(or any other MC) failing in the league against Guzma, only for Kukui to come and protect his adopted child would be interesting to see to ngl!

And PUH-LEASE, I ADORE this kinds of talk! Rambling about pokemon meta/what ifs is my favorite thing, I just dont do it more often cause I know I'm irritating :v

[merlinmerlot]

I could play one of the most beautiful well crafted video games on the planet and it will never be as appealing to me as one that kind of sucks shit but has soooo much potential

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[alicelillianshaw]

Her throat still feels very tight— Alice doesn't dare raise the wineglass to her lips, not now, because there's no way she'd be able to swallow anything anyway.

All she can think about is how her words had felt tangible in Jack's chest.

The comments she'd made about his eyes, the descriptors she'd plucked out of her consciousness, shaded every color blue— they'd felt real to him. They weren't a canvas, or a lump of clay, but Jack could still feel them.

So better not to try drinking.

Alice especially can't the longer she looks at Jack's face.

It's not a look of defeat, not that, but there's some complicated and sad and Alice thinks about reaching over the table and gripping his wrist once more as if it could somehow erase the expression from his face.

But what could Alice do to change his circumstances? How did Alice dissolve congressional investigations? How would Alice dissolve nation scrutiny?

'I’ve made a lot of mistakes,'

'There’s other stuff. I don’t know.'

Alice's features pinch together.

Other stuff.

It was vague, yeah— and Alice didn't want to project, paint Jack with the same brush she used on herself, but she thinks back to college, her time after it.

Vodka, she'd store in plastic water bottles by her bedside. Other liquor, in her bright blue Klean Kanteen, draining half of it in the middle of her physics lecture until the florescent lights above were spinning. Alice would drink on nights out until her friend's begged her to stop, and she'd show up to events and hangouts drunk, hiding it to the best of her ability, knowing they'd be mad, gargling mouthwash in the bathroom to mask the scent.

It made her feel grimy, the deception.

And that was just some of it. That was just one layer in the ugly mess of Alice's mistakes.

She wants to tell Jack that her 'other stuff' was ugly, and she didn't want him believing his, whatever it was, was any worse.

There's a line between her brows, and Alice does her best to relax it away.

'I’ve made a lot of mistakes,'

So had she. Whatever Jack had done— and Alice wasn't sure— she knew it wasn't deserving of his life to be picked apart to cruelly before it shattered.

"Me too," she says, lips pursing, finger rubbing against the arm of the chair idly as her eyes flit down.

"Nasty ones that I hate. And I know a lot of other people have too. And— I don't know. I think it's a part of living."

Her mouth lifts a little sadly. "What you're dealing with right now I know is ... unique, because of your career. It's crazy. But I'm sure your mistakes aren't. And I already know whatever it is you're thinking about ... it definitely doesn't make you uniquely terrible. Or terrible at all."

Alice looks back at Jack, something burning inside her chest.

"I actually really enjoy you as a person, and it's only been two days."

And she did. Jack's eyes, and all the shades of blue they embodied from all over the globe. Jack's mouth, which was always animated and moving. Jack's words, the wit that came from him, exclamations and questions that always left Alice guessing what he'd say next. Just all of Jack. All quicksilver and kinetic.

Jack says, without much conviction that things will work out— things will settle the way they're supposed to.

'You’re really nice though. To say all of that stuff. Thank you.'

It was the truth, though, and Jack owed her no thanks.

Alice returns his smile, soft, watching the wine pour into his glass like very pale gold.

"It's all very true."

It was her turn to share again.

Alice presses her fingers hard against the stem of her glass, pinching as if the force of it would help focus her scattered mind and heart.

What to share?

Nothing too ... dreary. No. Alice would like to widen his smile.

"My parents were wonderful, but they made me do choir and I've never forgiven them for it."

Her lips twitch.

"Our teacher was big into really old music— some students called it sad pioneer music? Which I don't think even accurately describes the time period, but." Alice snorts. "I actually loved standing there and listening to the instruments. Hearing a bunch of voices sing as one always sounded kind of powerful to me."

Jack hoped that Alice understood how sincere his statement had been. He hadn’t described it very well either, but … Jack remembered feeling in awe of Alice, wishing that he could write something half as good as the things she said. He watched as Alice gripped the chair, wondering what exactly she was thinking, wishing he could live inside of her brain in that moment.

There was something in her eyes. Emotion. Jack swallowed. Something told him that she understood, and that she’d taken his words to heart. She thanked him, and Jack shook his head. She never had to thank him.

He was just telling the truth.

Jack watched as Alice processed through his own admission. His heart was racing because he hadn’t said those words out loud, to anyone, and he’d just offered them up to a stranger. He trusted Alice not to use it against him, not to mention it in the article.

Maybe he was naive.

"Yeah, but you're not going to."

A very strong emotion stirred in his chest. Jack winced, looked away, at the pool. It still shimmered even in the near-dark.

She’d said it so confidently, without thinking, that it really took Jack by surprise. Made him emotional, in a funny way because — well. When was the last time anyone had that sort of blind confidence in him? When was the last time someone hadn’t felt so disappointed in him? Maybe when he was running for office, making all these promises to his supporters that he’d really intended to keep. But life. It got messy and complicated and Jack had let them all down.

There was something in her eyes then, too. Empathy, he thought. Like she was hurting just because he was. She reached forward, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, and Jack wished they weren’t so far away again. She squeezed before letting go. Jack sighed, stared at his wrist a little sadly.

"I know you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I know this is getting dragged out in the most torturous way... but you're not."

Alice went on to talk about all of the other horrible people in the country. Crooked politicians with corrupt morals. He’d heard stories, prayed that he didn’t end up like them. She seemed so sure that Jack wasn’t like them, but … she didn’t really know him, did she?

There were still things that Alice didn’t know about Jack. Things that, miraculously, hadn’t made their way into the press. Yet. Shameful, hurtful things that he’d done. Things that … he’d probably do again, given the chance, even if he wouldn’t admit that to himself. Even if he swore that he didn’t have a problem. Even if he pretended not to panic when he misplaced his oxycodone.

There was a time that Jack had dropped the very last pill that he had, lost somewhere on the floor of his bedroom. He’d spent forty five minutes tearing the room apart, moving furniture and lifting mattresses, until he found it, rolled beneath his nightstand. At least he'd wiped it off before popping the pill into his mouth.

He laid on his bedroom floor until the high kicked in. And when it did — he swore he’d never felt anything as good.

Would she feel the same about him if she knew that?

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he told Alice. “There’s other stuff. I don’t know.”

Jack paused.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he repeated, a little more solemnly this time. Jack supposed it was time to face the music. Karmically, he deserved everything that was happening to him, besides Alice.

That was one thing he hadn’t deserved.

Jack leaned forward again, elbows on the table. He sighed, pressing the palms of his head into his eyelids.

He didn’t want to ruin this night. He wasn’t going to. Not when she looked like that.

“It’ll be okay, though,” he finally said, even if he didn’t sound too convinced. “It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.”

Jack finally looked across to Alice, smiling gently.

“You’re really nice though. To say all of that stuff. Thank you.”

Jack drank the last of his wine, eyed the bottle. Another glass wouldn’t hurt. He filled his glass, looked to Alice.

“More?” He asked. “And it’s your turn. To share anything. Everything,” he clarified.

[border-collie]

I get pushed out of windows and keep landing on my feet, but I wish life would stop pushing me out if windows

[doberbutts]

I've told this story before but the non-negotiable in allyship really reminded me of my gaming group. So one of my best friends is a twin and while I know *her* pretty well I don't really know her brother as well despite knowing him for roughly same length of time. We play videogames together and her brother asked to join us so at some point I took him aside and had The Talk with him because we at that point had a recently out trans fem within the group and she had just barely started hormones and hadn't done any voice training etc so I fully intended to head any trouble off at the pass.

So I basically had the "respect my friend's pronouns or die by my sword" discussion because while he knows I'm a trans guy and had so far been chill, I didn't know if that extended to all trans people.

What I did not expect was for him to pull an uno reverse on me and invite his two trans woman friends to game with us as well and did a "no no, *you* respect *my* friends' pronouns or die by *my* sword".

When I was working at Petco, one of my coworkers came to me having a total panic and anxiety meltdown and when I finally got them to tell me what was going on, the revealed they had sought me out because they were having Transgender Feelings and wanted advice. I ended up giving them my old binders that were too small for me but a perfect fit for them, and one of my roommates gave them their first masc haircut.

A few weeks later a customer speaking Spanish was saying many nasty things about my coworker and reacting with disgust. Another coworker- a cis gay man who speaks fluent Spanish- came to get me first so I could pull the other coworker away while he effectively cussed them out in Spanish. He told us the sparknotes version of the English translation and it was mostly horrifically transphobic drivel. My coworker had responded mostly neutrally to me being trans, but for him to be visibly steamed the rest of the day over my other coworker definitely bumped my respect for him.

And I've talked about how a cis lesbian friend of mine visibly bristles at anyone she even thinks is being shitty to me about being trans to the point of making them splutter and back down.

A cishet woman I am only sort of acquaintances with once caught me wincing at being she/her'd at a trial and asked if that had been happening all day. When I responded the affirmative, she stormed off and I didn't see her the rest of the day. The next day, any time anyone referred to me there was an audible pause before a deliberate choice to choose masc versions.

Another trans woman who is a friend of mine once beat up a bully for calling her trans boyfriend a heshe when they were in schooling together.

It's about holding the line. It's about making the active choice to show up for each other. And it's about linking hands and refusing to budge.

If you cannot hold the line with me by your side, then we are not moving together.