#the way he is able to fill so many roles at the same time bc he is so well integrated into the concept and legacy of heroism itself

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[helieosphere]

Wanted to take some time and reflect on my Dawntrial journey thus far (90 - 95)

Some context to shape my review:

So, going into this expansion I had zero expectations. I was fortunate enough to go at my own pace this time as when the new content drop I was feeling particularly unmotivated to play FFXIV amongst me literally preparing for 3 conventions back to back and multiple overseas trips with my best friends and my family in celebration for graduating. I did play some Dawntrail on release when it was expected of me but I didn’t quite enjoy it and found it all tedious. Lots of self reflection happened on those trips and I came back with a new sense of direction. I took a very long break, only coming online to gpose or play on my alt and now that I’m going through the story, I’m glad I did. I’m still not particularly happy about how certain events played out but I’ve learned to just take things and run with it sometimes. Just recently, I got a new computer and my first thought was: I miss ffxiv! Why not play it. And that’s when my love for the game blossomed once again.

Now, let’s talk about the story itself.

I am quite pleased I was afforded to go at my own pace this time around as this story really lends itself to a lot of world building as they were upfront about. However, I truly wasn’t interested in the race until about level 94 when we learned about the tribes and their past relationship with each other. The Mamook were an excellent decision and great way to break up the formulaic pace. Seriously, the moblins section killed momentum for me so I’m happy they brought it back. Wuk Lamat is such a lovely character and hardly understand the animosity for her in particular. Disliking a character is one thing but hating her is you just hating whimsy. Her dynamic with specifically her older brother, Koana, was most endearing to me. I think I especially loved the pair because they both reminded me of E’jusana and it felt fitting that in canon, E’j and Wuk would become best friends bc he sees his younger, less jaded self in her. My catboy was always written to love the attention on him and suddenly want to shut himself out. Someone who is filled with so much compassion and love that got tested. So seeing Wuk Lamat act how she does, he takes a similar role to Koana in overseeing her and protecting that whimsy. Of course, Koana and E’j would bond over machinery and geek out about technology. They are both logical to a fault, but one has gotten the adventuring and bold spirit back and the other is closing himself off, very similarly to how E’j did during shadowbringers and endwalker. I just think these two characters + him being on the sidelines was a perfect evolution of my WOLs arc and I know not a lot of people will feel the same. That’s truly what got me to the halfway mark more than anything (also the battle design is truly peak here I miss playing high end phys range content tbh)

Tbh, im sure most people would be satisfied if this was the true end but it isn’t and we still have many hours to go. I know I would’ve but no! We have hours left. That makes me extremely weary of what’s next as I love Erenville but his place in this story has been very elusive and boring frankly. I do hope he gets a little more to his plot bc I want to appreciate him more as the standoffish gleaner with something to prove. So hopefully I get that or maybe this will be the trolly section before the golden city (I know who’s in there I think but they’re honestly the least surprising spoiler I know). Just glad I don’t really use socials too much anymore and have been able to form my own opinions. So far this game is on par with FFXVI’s story: flashes of brilliance, but some small issues that push it down.

Anyways, glad to be back! Probably won’t do high end content until 7.3 (maybe never again we’ll see) but that’s a long enough break for me to just have fun in other ways.

[daybreakrising]

I want you to know that I didn't forget that I said I would yell at you in DMs today over your ask last night; I simply wanted to do it here instead. :) Surprise!

Lauri, please hear me when I say that you write the most beautiful Blade that I ever could have wished for. I'd told you on numerous occasions that I'd lost some semblance of hope in being able to write this dynamic, this ship that became one of the few ships that I have infinite love for in my heart, one day. I truly thought that I'd sit in my little corner and love them entirely on my own, but then you came along. And you had all hesitance in heart when it came to your portrayal of him, while all I could think was 'this is it, this is him' more times than I could and can still count. And then, I thought it'd be one hell of a cosmic joke if you didn't see the dynamic as I did, because that had been the dip that I'd gotten into over them. And not only did you prove that concern so very wrong, but you've given me everything that I hoped it would be. You've not only met me on the exact same wavelength for them, but you've outdone and surpassed all expectations and hopes. You've given me Blade's perspective in ways that I couldn't imagine; you answer every moment of curiosity of mine with an ease that is admirable, for not many click with their muse as easily as you do, and not only that, but everything adds up with what has graced our screens. From details like his physical behavior towards her, in actions and reactions, to the role he fills in contrast to her own, to the effects of touch, and craving, and how those are so irrefutably paramount to this dynamic, to the hypotheticals, to everything we've spoken about so far. Everything just clicks.

God, I just— I always look for three things in a portrayal, and those are respect, and passion for a character, and then there's consistency, for the latter shows me just how much someone understands who they write. Whenever you speak to me about Blade, you shine all three of those things in my face as brightly as possible, and every time it happens, I realize just how lucky I got to find what is now our Kafblade. That, that, Lauri, is why you get me yelling in DMs every single time, because you give such a stupidly emotionally invested human being like myself, everything that she hoped she might one day find for these two. So have this, and the usual 'aaaaAAAAAAAA' and know that I am in love with your Blade as much as my Kafka is.

SAE WHAT THE F-

i don't know what to do with this. genuinely. you KNOW i cannot take compliments well why would you DO THIS TO ME-

okay. okay. i can do this. i can do this.

i am still hesitant (though much less so, a lot of which can be attributed to our lengthy discussions & plotting) bc i am just an anxious lil guy, but to know that you (amongst others) not only think i do him justice but actively praise my portrayal whenever you can is just.... ;__; listen. listen i love this angsty immortal man so much-

but please know that so much of this is down to you and your questions that get me thinking about him, get me musing on those behaviours and reactions, and i am just as equally invested in this soul consuming ship we have, trust me. and i love your kafka as much as my blade does.

[copinghex]

I'm a bit nervous, there's a while I don't do this

The first paragraphs were so gripping!! Heaven's pain and how Arthur's support is almost not enough to soothe her. I can't wait to see how John's death will affect the relationship bc it clearly hits a nerve on both of them!!

“Hey Pol’!" You cheered, a wicker basket filled with pastries dangling at your wrist, "I've brought some croissants and éclairs. Thought it could help put up with today's meeting."

Her greeting is so cute, I was yearning for more of my mystic girls and got hit by Tommy, I had forgotten how much I despised him here 🙄

Shark, the Tommy x Heaven scene struck a cord towards an aspect of him I never talked about: his selfishness

There's something in the way (non Nirvana pun intended) he shares an unbreakable bound with Arthur and how (at least in canon, I'm not sure how things will play along in HYE, especially if Arthur finds out about Tommy's attraction to his wife) they seem unable to live without the other, but at the same time that's not enough to make T fully respect A and I suppose it makes sense if I use the You're the oldest brother and wasn't able to fulfill the role so I had to take the reins motivation

However, trying to woo Heaven speaks much louder. T """"respected"""" Linda because she kept A """on the line""" and he is a logical creature (sometimes lol) it'd make more sense to keep peace with her and find a balance. Him choosing not to makes me think the same I did when he married Grace despite all the pain she caused to Ada and Danny, when it comes to matters of the heart, Tommy will do whatever he thinks is better for him, it doesn't matter how many people he'll hurt

Anyways... I had this whole thought process and in this next scene I was like-

All you wished was to protect your man and show the world that they better fear Arthur Shelby's wife as much as him if it isn't more.

Slaay!! 💅💅

And the smut, it was so sexy then they started to have a full conversation in the middle lol, it speaks volumes about the intimacy they share, I gotta love them 🤭

Now, songs!! At this point I can't remember what I recommend so I apologize if I already said one of those

Oh my dear lord by The unlikely candidates for Heaven not catching a damn break, like pleeease, she just wants to be left alone and live in peace with her man 🙏🏽

My gun Tove Lo has seductive vibes I think fit her well

Pacifier by Catfish and the Bottleman for Tommy x Heaven because I still can't believe what fcking idiot he is

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Running from your past doesn’t work anymore now that you’ve been directly involved in the Vendetta. Between violence, threats and schemes, you understand that you will only retrieve your peaceful haven with Arthur if you get out of this war with blood under your nails. featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 7.5k

TW: alteration of canon events, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, SMUT +18, hint at gunplay, cockwarming, piv, non-protected , obsessive love, extreme co-dependent relationship. They are sincerely deranged, sorry about that. No proofreading, we die like men.

Notes:

✞ This is the last quiet chapter of Act II, shit will start to get real in the next part. Also, the smut is just a part of the chapter, not the entire thing.

✞ This is chapter 14 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The crackling symphony of burning wood whispered to the stillness, each pop and hiss forming the melody of a sorrowful farewell to John Shelby. Amidst the flickering glow you emerged, your white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around your shoulders to the small of your back. The firelight waltzed upon your features, bringing up the mesmerizing interplay of diamond dust and frost that composed you.

How many more?

The question flashed in your thoughts, leaving a trail of caustic soda that scorched your skull from the inside. How many more of your loved ones should you see burn, their flesh eaten by a voracious fire, until God decided He had enough fun tormenting you? Two faint dimples appeared on your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, the cold winter wind blowing at the black veils of your long and seductive black dress that floated elegantly behind you like the sinister drapes of the Reaper's cloak. In utter silence, Arthur lowkey shifted his focus from the vardo to you with concern and, taking notice of the destructive sparkle in your eyes, pulled you closer. The sensation might have been comforting but your body didn’t answer to his affection, remaining limp and disconnected. To be completely honest, you were feeling so physically and emotionally cold that you would have believed you were made of frost if his coat, which was resting over your shoulders, and his comforting hand, that was on your lower back, weren't there to offer you a bit of warmth.

As the scent of Arthur's reassuring cologne kept you anchored to reality, you finally woke up from your gluey negativity and instinctively nestled against your husband, who placed a discreet and tender kiss on the corner of your lips. The familiar ticking of his facial hairs on your skin sent a wave of comfort through your soul and reminded you that, despite everything that had been going on between the two of you lately, he had been, still was, and will always be your only saving grace. You wondered if, maybe, it was time for you to go back home. Not that his betrayal had been forgotten or forgiven, but you needed him more than ever. For a shit ton of reasons.

“You’re frozen, angel. You sure you wanna stay hm?” He whispered, the tender gravel in his voice clearing your morbid contemplation of the burning vardo, which brought to your mind the sickening memories of your mother and little sister burning at the stake. A long exhale escaped from your fleshy lips as you tried to keep the demons of your past on a leash — and ignore a sudden wave of nausea.

“I’m not going anywhere. If John is burning I might as well freeze.” Your reply was a bit blunter than intended, but Arthur got it. The way you watched the flames climb higher and higher left no doubt about the devastating anger raging inside. They will pay, you silently swore to John, convinced he could hear you from where he was. If bringing him back was out of your abilities, at least you could avenge him by bringing upon every single man who plotted his death a demise worse than death. Just like Thomas Shelby, they would soon know how much pain you could inflict with your tiny and delicate hands, the holiness of your appearance being nothing more than a facade to mask the methodical killer you were. To hell with the promise of not killing again, having blood on your hands seemed to be the price to pay for Arthur and his love. While you lost yourself in the meanders of your thoughts, the cacophonic detonations of gunshots roared in the quiet meadow.

You had barely heard them when, with movements nimble and quick, you pushed Arthur to the ground and stood still to protect him in a reflex you couldn’t fight. The booming sounds might have been loud, they didn’t made you flinch. Quite the contrary, your aquamarine eyes stared at the horizon in search of the slightest threat, just in case the shots fired hadn’t come from the Gold. For a very short while you had been the only one standing, all the Shelby clan on the ground with hands covering their head. Even Tommy, who had schemed the attack, played the safety card and remained covered just the time to make sure the shootings came from their side.

"For fuck's sake, Heaven." Arthur barked at you as he stood up on his long legs, ignoring Tommy in the background who was keeping everyone under his control by yelling. The lanky gangster's hand grabbed your fragile wrist firmly and pulled you closer to him again, steel blue eyes glowing with disapproval at your reckless behavior.

"That was Thomas’ plan right?” You simply replied, your reliable source of information being Aberama and Bonnie themselves -- it was a part of the many perks of living with them in the nearby woods.

“Come on, Angel! A plan ain't going to be always working ay. It could have been the Ital—“ The oldest Shelby brother, with his thick brows furrowed, could not finish his sentence for you hushed him by cupping his face with your freezing little hands. Falling silent, the wolf turned into a lamb as you gently pressed his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

"Chéri." You started, the pink tip of your tongue moistening your enchanting lips. Each of your movements seemed to bewitch him, to the extent that he almost forgot why he had been that irked, the inferno of his rage instantly cooling down, "I am fine see?” Despite the softness of your voice, he could sense a bit of impatience in your steady tone. Without leaving any time for questions or protests, you laid a small kiss on his cold lips, "We are fine." The melody of your voice was merely a whisper that vanished in the howling wind when your winter lips met his a second time for a deeper kiss. Soft and glossy flesh against rough one. A wild storm of happiness coursed through Arthur at the sensation of this long-awaited mark of affection tingling on his skin, and electrifying his heart. A rapture so strong that the world blurred around him for a moment — he would have probably slipped his tongue in your mouth if the moment wasn't inappropriate. When you pulled back from him, your lips curled in a faint but sincere smile before you squished his scruffy cheeks and released his face from your cold grip. After three years together, it was only at this very moment that Arthur understood that he wasn’t the true guardian and fellow protector of the couple. You were.

Fiercer. Crazier. And certainly far more dangerous.

"Put us out there on purpose... To use John's funeral fire as a fucking beacon!" Aunt Polly's outraged and trembling voice erupted from behind, her words stabbing Tommy like red-hot daggers. If they hurt, he didn’t let it show though. Forced to part from you before his brother and aunt went for each other’s throat, Arthur intervened.

"We were never in any danger, Polly."

"You set a trap. You set a trap with us as fucking bait." She blurted out, standing from her chair and walking to Tommy with steps so furious you were pretty sure she was going to plow into him. Indignation was radiating off her, her dark eyes wishing they had the power to kill. If it had been the case little King Shelby would have been already lying in a pool of his own blood, "Who's dead?!"

After his younger brother had tried to explain to the old harpy that the victims were two Italians, Arthur went on, "We got word to them about the funeral, the where, the when… Told them where to stand for the best shot."

"And Aberama Gold will do the rest." Tommy completed his brother's sentence as if he was an extension of himself — which was the case, you reckoned, when he wasn't busy criticizing you for breathing. From then, the voices only escalated, trying to overcome one another and win the argument by screaming louder than the other until someone eventually gave up. Which was a miracle that would never happen since we were talking about Tommy and Polly. Both of them were two equally stubborn mutts fighting for the same bone and how this argument ended had been predictable: The fierce aunt left, Hell shaking under her heels.

Now was the perfect opportunity to talk.

"Arthur," Your divine voice hailing him, resounding in the meadow like a haunting siren’s song, its unsettling melody sending shivers down Ada's spine. She glanced at you and, for a quick second, the memory of you covered with blood flashed in her mind. Years had passed since you murdered Father’s Hughes accomplice with a pair of scissors but she still couldn't forget what happened back then. She wouldn’t admit it but her trust in you had never been the same from this moment.

Snatched from his thoughts, Arthur turned around, frowning. The family argument had soured his mood.

"Hm?"

"Now I wanna leave." You stated, your seraphic tone as sharp as the razor blades in your man’s cap. This hostility wasn’t aimed at him though, but at Tommy for you had pronounced these four words while glaring at him, indescribable hatred burning in your frozen iris. You might have been aware of the plan, it didn’t mean you agreed with it: the idea of using John’s funeral still infuriated you but your mourning soul hadn’t the strength to fight it. "I'm going home.” Arthur's heart missed a beat, afraid of seeing you disappear again in the depths of the woods. It had been one hell of a harsh week without you and while he — hardly — understood that you needed space, his patience was growing thin, worn out by jealousy and overwhelming dependence. After all, if Aberama was a thief, why wouldn’t he steal his most precious treasure? Or worse, he’s son. Younger, healthier and so much more handsome than him, he thought with gritted teeth and hateful eyes.

"Oh yeah? " Coming closer, Arthur tried his best not to let his murderous jealousy talk and, instead, took a long black key from the pocket of his dark duffle coat "Home ain't with the Gold. Home's—"

"57 Watery Lane. I go there, lock the door and wait for my husband. S'that what you wanted to say?" You suggested, one eyebrow raised and your pale eyes staring at him like two fathomless and cursed jewels. Arthur swallowed nervously, the intense eye contact feeling like an eternity. Besides immediate regrets, the reason for his silence was that he was convinced he messed up again, judging by your sudden cold demeanor. So, afraid you’d lash out at him for his sudden jealousy, all he did was nod and try to keep his composure in front of everyone to pretend he was the one in charge. But you knew him too well not to recognize the sadness in his beautiful but vacant steel-blue eyes. You knew exactly what was going on in his head: he was expecting you to reject him in front of everyone, just like Linda used to do. “Alright” You articulated, and yet your reaction was the strict opposite of what he thought you’d do. Bringing your hand to his, you gave it a gentle squeeze before taking the key, "That’s the home I was talking about, love." You added, your glossy lips curling in a faint but oh-so-reassuring smile that made him swoon with indescribable fascination. Punctuating your sentence with a little wink, you finally turned your heels and left the meadow, your walk as elegant and confident as a fearsome lioness coming back from the hunt.

A predatory and frightful confidence that disappeared as soon as you reached your house. You had barely heard the sound of the door closing when, sick in the stomach, you rushed to the toilets and dropped on your knees to throw up.

"Fuck..." The curse escaped from your trembling lips as you quickly wiped them with a towel, tears beading at the corner of your aquamarine eyes. Polly was right: you did know when to pick your moment. As strong as you were, you had trouble coping with the news of your unexpected pregnancy. So much trouble that you couldn’t rejoice and that lack of enthusiasm only added a layer of guilt to your restless mind. “Fuck!” You snarled, teeth bared. Fuck you, them, all, and everything.

The sound of your platform boots' sharp heels echoed in the sanitized corridors of the hospital as you headed towards Michael's bedroom, your hips elegantly swinging to the rhythm of the silent savage drums of your heart. Tommy had called another lengthy and boring meeting to discuss both the Shelby Company Limited's new installments and the Vendetta, and as well as you dreaded his presence you had to be a part of it now that you were a Shelby. Moreover, the whole mess got even more problematic since Luca Changretta had managed to find a way to break into the Shelby factory and directly talk to his turquoise-eyed opponent for the sole pleasure of seeing a sparkle of panic in his eyes when he threatened to kill the rest of his family.

Surprising as it may sound considering your deep resentment for Tommy's long speeches and the man himself, you arrived pretty early. Not for him, but for Polly Gray. By coming earlier, you knew you'd have a bit of time to talk privately with her about the baby, for she had been the one discovering your secret pregnancy. “Hey Pol’!" You cheered, a wicker basket filled with pastries dangling at your wrist, "I've brought some croissants and éclairs. Thought it could help put up with today's meeting." The bright smile you bore soon vanished from your plumped lips when your winter eyes met with the dark silhouette of your brother-in-law, standing in front of you with his calloused hands in his pockets and his cold gaze staring at your angelic complexions with an unfathomable look. Turning into ice again, your small hand immediately reached for the door handle.

"Stay. We have to talk." He stated, his tone cool and composed. As much as he wanted his sentence not to sound like an order, he ultimately failed. As he talked, all the muscles in your body tense and you felt already irked by his presence.

"Don't." You snarled, your crystalline eyes squinting when they shot him a lethal glare, "Don't fucking come any closer." The sour and threatening expression on your face had been enough to stop Tommy. He was now clenching his perfectly carved jaw. Admittedly, he had never particularly cared about your personal space, invading it on every occasion he could just to push you to your limits and make you feel cornered, but since he had a taste of the ghastly and inhumane gift you had he'd rather be cautious.

"Alright," He said, pinching the bridge of his nose before rolling his eyes and moistening his lips in a surprisingly effusive pout. "No need to be that aggressive eh. Please have a sit." He instructed then, indicating a chair with a brief gesture of the hand.

"I ain't gonna sit. Polly tricked me.” You gritted through your teeth, spiteful at the thought of her betrayal. Your voice echoed through the room like sharp shards of frost falling from a winter sky. "You both knew that I didn't want to be left alone in a room with you anymore and still you schemed this twisted little plan." The cadence of your speech, though measured, carried an Arctic chill that made Tommy shiver. Even with the short distance that separated you, he could almost feel the ice you were made of burning his skin through the many layers of his expensive three-piece suit. In fact, you might be calm but Tommy could still feel the rumble of the storm hidden in that soft and enchanting lilt of yours.

"No one tricked you, and yes, indeed, I knew it. That's why Polly will be here with us. She's coming in any minute. Feel better now? Can you fucking sit?" Your only reply was a mocking snort that was quick to stir anger in Tommy's heart despite the placid expression etched on his face. But no matter how fine and cold the marble he was carved from was, you could see the tumultuous current beneath it. Maybe that was one of the main reasons why he hated you: no matter how hard he tried, you always managed to get under his skin and make him falter.

Silent fell in the hospital room, the two of you staring stonily at each other as you both attempted to decipher the opponent's intentions. "Seriously," Tommy was the first to move, coming nearer despite your warning — part of him did it only to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid of you. As he approached, your sharp sense heard the faint sound of his heart beating slightly quicker than usual and his breath struggling to keep quiet. Closer he came, until he stood only inches away from you, the warmth of his body brushing your skin without even touching it, and the musky scents of his cologne ticking your nostrils. " I meant it you know ay. I meant it when I said we have to end this war between us," You remained motionless, eyes staring at him, "Shut the door on it". In the hushed ambiance of the bedroom, he started to move around you with a gait that mirrored the stealthy elegance of a beast navigating its territory. His steps were a silent predatory waltz, a calculated and deliberate one that could have been dizzying if he wasn't walking around you this slowly, "At least temporarily." The air seemed to ripple with a subtle tension as he circled you like a panther, hiding his fear of you behind an aura of primal confidence, "I'm sure we could both benefit from it, ain't that the truth." You slowly exhaled as he talked, realizing you've been holding your breath for a while.

"What about backing off me and shutting your mouth until Polly comes?" You whispered, your aquamarine eyes carefully following every step he took. Admittedly, there was an undeniable magnetism in the way he moved, almost too smoothly and captivating to be human. In a primal reflex, your lips curled and you showed your pearly teeth. Beneath the shared expanse of your untamed wilderness, a silent battle waged within, as his large and strong hand delicately found rest upon your arm. The skin-to-skin contact sent an unpleasant thrill through your body. Tommy was like a big cat facing another one, testing the waters and carefully studying the line he shouldn't cross for you to snap. All in all, it was a contest whose goal was not to be the first to shy away. His fingers ghosted over your arms, trailing down your skin with an unsettling tenderness. Unwilling to cause another scandal or murder him, you gathered all your willpower not to react even when he leaned above you, looking down at your seraphic traits with curiosity gleaming in his turquoise eyes, "How did it feel when we kissed?" His words, like tempestuous whispers, stirred a sudden symphony of panic and indignation within. "Because you've... Felt."

"I did." You finally admitted, tearing through the silence you've been walling yourself in. All the ice melted in a few seconds, and your face relaxed a little bit. Two hopeful details that ignited both Tommy's gaze and ego -- of course you did, he thought.

"Look at me." His voice turned a bit softer as you slowly raised your gaze to his face.

"Do you really need me to say it out loud, Tom?" As you inched dangerously closer to him, he heard the ambient sounds of the crowded hospital fade into a distant murmur

"I do." The drumming of his heart fastened as a faint smile toyed on your lips. The proximity of your mouth, bewitchingly close yet not quite touching, was killing him. Let alone the brush of your skin under his fingertips and the shared warmth of your breaths mingling in the same intimate airspace. How beautiful you would be together. How fierce. How... Unstoppable. That was all he could think of.

"Disgust." It fell from your mouth with the softness of a chainsaw blade cutting through his guts. Tommy's eyes widened, his ego crashing on the ground and shattering like a broken mirror. He didn't react at first, confused by your harsh words, which contrasted with your angelic smile, "I felt disgusted." You tilted your head to the side, your face turning into winter again, "Now you better move from the way if you don’t want me to crush your lungs."

Tommy was about to back off in terror when he saw you moving your fingers in that peculiar way he was too familiar with.

"Sorry for being late." Polly's voice erupted in the room, saving you from spending another minute alone with Tommy. God blessed her.

"Let me help you with that." He finally said, trying his best to keep his composure at the realization that he would never be able to predict you. Never be able to control nor to own you. His fingers closed on the basket’s handle, right above your reddened wrist, and they lifted it to relieve your frail arm from the pain before he quickly stepped away from you.

"Alright, glad to see the two of you didn't butcher each other in my absence. What a wonderful improvement."

"An improvement that is." Tommy replied, pressing his palms against the table now that he had put the basket on its wooden surface.

" I was talking with the doctor about Michael's health. We have a very short time left: he's almost done with him, and both Ada and Lizzie are coming. Heaven, dear, what about Arthur?" Polly inquired, her black eyes meeting yours.

"He's still in his office at the Shelby factory. But I must admit I thought that it would be only you and me." You stated resentfully.

"I know, love and I'm sorry about it but you wouldn't have come if I told you that Tommy was here." Her cold and sly hand gently squeezed your arm in a gentle gesture, so soft and full of motherly love that you couldn't really blame her anymore. Taking a quick look at the clock on the wall, you sighed and took place on a chair just like Polly did.

"Hurry up. Tell me what's about."

"Ain't going to keep you waiting,��� Tom started and went straight to the point, motivated by the desire to see you leave this room as soon as possible, “ I want you to meet Luca Changretta."

"Thomas!" You exclaimed.

"No. You listen to me now," The gangster replied, pointing at you with his index finger, "As you know I've encountered him in the meeting room of the Shelby Company factory. We came to an agreement that stipulates that women and children shouldn't be included in the Vendetta. With that, we can guarantee a certain safety for you, Polly, Ada, Finn, and the kids."

"How... Quaint." You stated, pursing your lips in a bratty pout, "And what's the link between your deal and me potentially meeting the man who wants to see my husband dead?"

"Considering this, one of the women of this family can approach him. The idea was that Polly could meet with him and ask him to spare the family, especially Michael. In return, she would lure me into a specific place and at a specific time so that this bastard can set an ambush and kill me." As Tommy explained the original plan, you side-eyed Polly who nodded at each sentence in an attempt to reassure you.

"The problem is Luca knows the strong bond I have with my nephews. Even if I use the role of the mother ready to do everything to save her son, I fear it won't be enough to convince him. But you..." She left her sentence hanging, Tommy's raspy voice completing it. Shelbys, you swore. Sometimes you wondered if they had some telepathic shit going on between them.

"You despise me as much as Luca does but still bore the name Shelby. You'd be perfect." His gaze almost burnt you.

"Makes sense." You replied, fingers playing nervously with your dress' fabric under the table as you swallowed all the information just heard. Against all odds, his idea was impressively clever — Tommy might have a plethora of flaws but stupidity wasn’t one of them.

"Polly will help you arrange a meeting with him in a club. You talk with him, explain how you do this to save your husband, and if he asks more questions proceed with talking about our relationship." Now that they had finished revealing their plan, Tommy and his aunt were both staring at you, impatiently waiting for your answer.

"Well, I've heard enough." You simply said, getting up from your chair and making your way to the bedroom's door under the two pairs of confused eyes. Once you reached it, you grabbed the handle and watched them from above your shoulder, an amused but sharp grin dancing on your lips. "When Apocalypse comes, it seems like even Thomas Shelby wants the Devil on his team." You teased, entertained by the situation. No matter his neutral demeanor, he needed you. And that was a satisfying feeling. "That's fine with me." Your quick agreement was certainly not something Tommy and Polly expected, judging by the way they looked at you, and then at each other to make sure they heard well. But as illogical as it seemed, the reasons behind your will to get involved in the Vendetta were a matter of course: You were sick of playing the nice and fragile wife who nervously waited for her husband. You didn't come all the way back to Birmingham to be a quiet and patient little thing. You came to make them all shatter and shake at your fingertips. All you wished was to protect your man and show the world that they better fear Arthur Shelby's wife as much as him if it isn't more.

Polly followed on your heels when you opened the door, grabbing your arm and leading you outside.

"The hell you're doing?" You inquired, surprised by her sudden strength.

"One last thing. I need you to keep Arthur busy and to make him come too late for the meeting." The fierce aunt's grip closed a bit firmer around your wrist, making you wince.

"Why that ay? He has every right to attend it. He's the vice president deputy of that company as well as the oldest brother." If there was one thing Polly expected, it was you defending your husband tooth and nail. And yet she had many tricks in her sleeve.

"We don't want him to pull the trigger anymore. It's time for him to delegate and stay out of the battlefield. We didn't climb the social ladder this high to keep dirtying our hands."

Polly's speech made you blink, astonished one could scheme behind a family member's back. "Hey, that's freaking unfair for Art. You have to discuss the matter with him, it's his job we're talking. Ouch!" You whimpered when she squeezed you harder, her eyes begging you to listen.

"Think about the baby! It will need its father! We don't want him in danger any longer so please, please keep him busy just like we, women, know how to do. It's the modern approach, White Devil."

"Modern approach. Of course.”

"Oh, Angel." Arthur said, his gravel voice underlined with a light surprise when he saw you entering his office. He was putting on his long black coat, ready to leave for the family meeting. As soon as his piercing blue eyes landed on your delicate frame he walked towards you, "Why you here? You alright? " He immediately inquired, his protective nature had grown far bigger since you'd joined him in this cursed city. The soft glow of affection shone in your eyes as you looked at him, your glossy and plump lips greeting him with a bestowed smile so sweet and radiant with love that the hurricane of worries in Arthur's skull hushed down.

"Everything's alright!" You hung your coat on a hook.

"Ain't it good news, ay." He cheered despite being in a hurry, before putting his large and rough hands on your forearms with an adorable bluntness so specific to him and rubbing them to warm your skin up, "Well look, lovely to see you but I'm late for a meeting."

"Just five minutes." You asked, coming closer until your breasts flattened against his chest, "Five teeny-tiny minutes, please?" The way your eyebrows raised and your mouth pouted enlightened your angelic face with an irresistible bratty look that never failed to get him on his knees. Arthur quickly moistened his lips while weighing the pros and cons, but it didn't take long for him to make up his mind. Especially when gazing upon that woman-child face of yours.

"Alright, alright." His raspy voice blurted out. Arthur brought his fingers in your hair to slip one of your long white locks behind your ear with an indescribable tenderness. "Needy little thing already missed her husband eh?" He cooed with amusement, his strict facial traits melting as he talked to you, tamed by your presence.

"I did.” You purred with a quick but oh-so-sincere smile, “But I also need to talk to you. Sit, please?” You suggested, the amusement of your tone brightening up his dull day. Joining motion to speech, you gently pushed him back with your two index fingers pressed on his chest. Arthur followed your movements, a bewitched smirk etched on his mouth. Just like your own reflection, each time you took a step forth he took one back until the back of his knees bumped against the desk chair. Enthralled and with lust-dilated pupils, his eyes spoke a love that transcended words. Arthur’s body finally dropped on the chair, and if he was already focused on nothing else but you, the whole universe faded into utter insignificance when you sat on his lap, straddling him. The contact between your two hips ignited a vivid desire within, which spread through his bones like wildfire and got a satisfied “hum” from him.

“What it is ye want to say?” Arthur asked, the hoarseness of his voice carrying a softness no one suspected him to hide. Despite everything you’ve been through lately, including the indescribable disappointment due to his drug relapse, you had allowed your relationship to slowly heal. You had been crystal clear, now the ball was in his court. Arthur was obviously still on trial, well aware that he needed to outperform himself to gain your precious trust back but at least you came home right after John’s funeral, and that was all that mattered.

A very short but comfortable silence floated over the room at his question, your reply taking the form of your fingers losing themselves in his slicked-back hair, massaging his head.

“Are you really in a rush?” Your voice, a delicate dance of enchantment and teasing, wove through the air and left Arthur even more captivated than he already was while you relished on every little adorable of his face — his myriad freckles were surely one of your favorite features of him. Finally, a long exhale escaped from your nostrils. How much you would have loved to stay locked up here with him forever, just you, him, and the baby, far away from this cruel world… “Peu importe ce qui se passe tu sais que je serai toujours à tes côtés, n'est-ce pas?” (translation: No matter what happens you know I'll always stand by your side, don't you?)

"I know." He replied in English. The sensation of your fingertips applying the perfect pressure on his head combined with your haunting French got him definitely wrapped around your finger. The lanky gangster was at the very edge of purring, his eyes half-closed and his piercing and intoxicated iris looking at you through his dark lashes.

As he enjoyed your massage, Arthur made the most of your proximity and let his palms wander on your dainty body, unable to keep them off you. In truth, it was nearly impossible for him not to become all handsy when you were around, no matter the where and the when. His rough hands roamed all over your being, invading every part of you. He was everywhere, softly kneading your small breasts, then trailing down your ribs to finally end his exploration on your hips he seized more firmly, almost bruising them in the process “I must say ya one hell of a cruel witch, love. You come here all hot and bratty.” He cooed, the gravel in his voice rumbling. It was so low, so powerful that it didn’t even sound like a voice but a feeling. His peculiar tone was an inextinguishable fire that enveloped your body, scorched your core, and wrapped your tired mind in a comforting haze. “Makes me feel bad to leave without taking care of ya like a good husband would do, right here on me desk…” You replied with an adorable giggle and Arthur slightly bucked his hips to press himself more against you, just for the sole pleasure of feeling his body colliding with yours. It’s not enough, he thought. It was never enough. There was always too much fabric, too much space, too much of everything between you except when he was buried deep inside of your core, both of you making one as you were meant to be. Another wave of excitement coursed through you, and you had to fight against the irresistible haze he stirred within. Delicate as a feather, you put your two tiny hands on his cheeks and raised his face for your eyes to meet — flaring steel sinking in lethal frost. “But tell me, what's that important hm?”

“First you have to promise me to stay calm. Will you?” You asked, batting your eyelashes like an untamable child about to tell her dad she had just destroyed the expensive family vase. The kind of look that drove Arthur crazy. Sometimes he still found himself astounded by how your face could go from terrifyingly cold to adorably childish. Saying that your words didn’t awaken a bit of worry inside of him would be a lie, but one sole glace at your angelic traits was enough to keep his rage leashed.

“Gonna try me best for ya, hm.” His dark blue irises were enraptured by the movements of your lips each time you spoke — your words were blurring, and his attention was turning into obsession: He missed you. Body, heart, and soul. “Hev…” He sighed in delight as your small hands abandoned his face to strip him from his vest, unbutton his shirt, and then paw at his chest.

“You won’t interrupt?” You mused, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and mouthing against his warm skin. Your thumbs were now tracing circles on his chest, smoothing his hairs. 

“Told ya, angel. Your Arthur will try to be a good boy.”

“Well… I went to the hospital to keep company to Polly. I thought we would discuss trivial things but then she asked me to keep you busy.” You finally admitted, “She and Thomas wanted you to miss today’s meeting.” As painful words melt with the delightful sensations of your caresses, the sky in Arthur’s eyes darkened with black and stormy clouds. His body stiffened under yours.

“What the fuck that’s s’posed to mean?”  He growled, anger already boiling in his veins like a dangerous geyser about to burst. Fortunately enough, your calming presence helped him contain his violent temper — such was your almost supernatural effect on him. Different and yet so similar, Arthur Shelby was made of destructive fire that burnt the people around him as much as him. And yet, his fire never really intended to hurt: quite the contrary, it sought to stay warm and inviting, like a low fire dancing in a hearth. When it blazed out of control, even he couldn't prevent the damage done. You, on the other hand, were made of water. Just like a dangerously cold ocean, you were terrifying, infinite, and relentless, your calm prone to silent but always deadly tempests. “Why the fuck would they do that?!” He cursed louder this time. Feeling your man’s temper wearing thin, you gave a gentle lick on his neck to snatch his attention from his corrosive emotions. Your flat tongue trailed up his sharp jaw to his earlobe — the wet and hot caress on his skin sent thrills of arousal all over him and allowed his mind to focus on something more pleasant than this cruel betrayal.

“Because they want you to stop pulling the trigger.” You explained as quietly as you could, gently rubbing your cheek against his like a cat looking for both affection and attention. It seemed to do the trick: his face was still distorted with latent rage, the thick vein in his temple pumping, but at least he wasn’t turning the office over with his fists nor was he yelling so, overall, it was still a win.  “Modern approach they call it.” You added, using Polly's exact words to the difference that you peppered his lips with small pecs, talking between each pair of smooches to make the pill easier to swallow, “You become a general and Aberama takes care of Changretta… That’s their plan.”  

Breathing loudly through his nose, the gangster pressed his lips together until they formed a very thin line, “Modern approach ay?” Anger coiled like a snake amids the hurricane of his resentment, its hiss echoing through Arthur’s skull.  “They just wanna take me job away.” He stated, more for himself than anyone else, still digesting the news. “And they want to use ya against me? Bloody pricks.” Overpowered by an immense feeling of injustice, Arthur didn’t realize that he was digging his fingers in your thighs a bit more painfully than intended, but his roughness only fanned the flames of your own wickedness. Your skillful fingers explored him, nails brushing his ribs, then palms caressing his slim abs as if seeking to defuse the ticking bomb he was.

“I wanted to tell you everything because nothing in this fucking world will make me stand against you... I may agree with the idea of keeping you safe from harm but not at the expense of your trust.” You confessed,  finally pulling your face from his neck and wrapping him in a relieving hug with your frail arms. If he hadn’t kept his eyes open, he would have sworn that it wasn’t your arms that were surrounding him but two soft and protective feathery wings. His rough hands, which hadn't moved, spread your thighs further to feel your warmth through the thin fabric of your lace thong. Fireworks exploded in you at the hard bulge that was pressing between your legs, making you bite your fleshy lip. Arthur finally let out a long sigh and shook his head, wanting the only thing that could wash away the rage that was eating him up — one of his hands left your flesh only for his fingers to slip between your parted thighs and shift your undergarment to the side.

"C'm'here," He ordered, his breathing increasingly louder and faster.

"Love, you should really go to this meeting." You advised, shivering at the feeling of his long fingers fondling your slit.

"To hell with their meeting, they don't even want me here eh. Need ye right now." With skillful movements, he unzipped his fly and lowered his trousers just enough to free his half-hardened cock and slid it between your sensitive folds, the pleasure and anticipation crashing against you like a rogue wave against the shore. "I feel me bloody mind drift again... And I know I'mma butcher someone if yer lovely lil' cunt doesn't keep me warm." The ghost of a little smirk danced on his lips, mustache lifting on the right side of his mouth when he noticed that his words had the effect he wished for: More of your wetness trickled along his shaft and you had started to grind against him, low key moaning. “I don't fucking know what I'll do without ya..." Without waiting another minute, the gangster lined up with your begging entrance and slowly pushed his swollen tip inside.

"Yes, f-fuck them." You sighed, your nails digging into his back and your legs quivering at the overwhelming feeling of him stretching you. Usually, Arthur wasn't the patient kind and, as it was the case at this very moment, all he wanted to slam his far-too-big cock in you in one forceful thrust to have you whimper and wiggle above him, and yet, he wished to keep it languid for now. It wasn't a rough fuck he wanted, at least for now, but sexual and emotional comfort. The first sweet fantasy that plagued his mind wasn't to cum, but rather to enjoy the blissful and addictive sensation of his thick length opening your throbbing walls inch by inch and filling you entirely.

"There, I know ye can take it all." He gently bumped your cheek with his nose while his smirk turned into a sharp-toothed grin pitching half between the remnant of his anger and satisfaction.

“S’too big…” You stuttered, eyes shut and the telltale of a blush painting across your doll face. With toes curling in your high heels and your arms around his neck, you rolled your eyes in the back of your head as he pushed further. It never seemed to end, and yet it always ended up fitting despite your size difference.

“Bloody Hell, how are ya so tight after years of me ruining ya?" His words were spoken with animal growls — The truth was he had always loved the fact you were too small for him in every sense of the term. Despite the pain, a frail whimper escaped from your mouth, soon accompanied by your legs naturally parting more, instinctively submitting to him and his needs. With a meaner thrust, Arthur had no other choice but to force the way one last time to fill you completely, and when it was finally done, he let out a loud moan at the way your tight walls hugged him. "Shh, shh, that's okay." His strong hands seized your hips stronger to keep you from wiggling and pulling them back in reflex, "A good girl ye are hmm?" You nodded. It was only when his length hit your deepest spot that Arthur stopped, buried inside of you, hard and unmoving, your bodies entirely connected. Another whine escaped from your mouth, a little protesting sound that drove him mad with lust and almost made him forget that his initial desire was just to keep you sitting nice and quiet on his cock. “C’mon love, t’wasnt that hard. Ye should be used to it.” The only reply he got was you rolling your hips to adjust to his size for a comfortable cockwarming session — the most effective thing you had found to tame his wicked tantrums or his adrenaline-fueled passions. The first time had been hell for him, who seemed to be unable not to pound you once he penetrated you — and yet he had learned to love every little thing of it: The intimacy, the constant but manageable pleasure, the cock-drunk and appeased look on your face…

"Missed you, Art'...'" You breathed and hummed, barely rolling your hips but still slightly moving on his cock to enjoy it massaging your velvety walls, "Aren't you angry anymore?" You asked a bit too sheepishly to be true, laying a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Nah, not anymore 'cause yer a nice angel for your husband,” He grabbed your ass firmly, long fingers adorned with cold rings spreading on your cheeks to have a wider grip “Making him find peace between your legs ay?” The stretch had become comfortable by now, and you were both fully enjoying each other, him completely high by your warmth and wetness. “Making him pray God with your holy pussy.” 

“God…” You sighed, throwing your head back, feeling perfectly full — maybe a bit too much even though pain blurred with exquisite ecstasy. “B-But think about it, Arthur. What about letting Aberama do the job? We would stay locked up in the house and do nothing but fuck until the whole Vendetta is over and we go back home?” You suggested, flush burning your porcelain cheeks and giving them a rosy color. The melody of your words — along with how good he felt deep inside of you —snatched a low moan from him. Yet, as much as he yearned for your offer, his conscience needed blood. 

“Got no choice, love.” His two hands left your body shortly to grab each side of your lace dress and take it out, throwing the garment somewhere in his office to have you exposed and vulnerable while he was still fully dressed. Once naked, he cupped your small breasts and started kneading them with blunt caresses that made you squeal: you were already sensitive due to your hidden pregnancy. “John wants me to do it.”

"Fuck!" You cursed when he moved along with you, your hips dancing together and intensifying the burning arousal that was saturating your senses. Soon, splitting you open and having you moaning on his cock wasn't enough anymore. His arms suddenly wrapped you possessively, pulling your two bodies even closer. So close the cold gold of his cross necklace on your skin sent thrills of pleasure down your spine. "He wouldn't want you to risk your life."

“It was me who shot the old man.” Arthur’s mouth, eager to find yours, crashed against your lips in a kiss so passionate that it took your breath away. One of them rough hands stroked your back in an overwhelming cocktail of caresses and scratches, waltzing on every inch of your skin while the other pinched one of your nipples. A second kiss captured your mouth, his tongue making its way into your parted lips to seek yours, not minding the thin trickle of saliva at the corner of them. “John is dead because of me,” He breathed between two savage kisses, “And I’m gonna make it right.” His voice was merely a low whisper combined with ragged breaths and low, gravelly moans.

"S'that was you want?" You managed to ask, losing your fingers in his hair and your mind in a fog of carnal delight. Forehead pressed against forehead, you reopened your frozen eyes and dived into his, words becoming more and more useless as a tornado of raw emotions and sincerity swirled in the blue of his iris: His need to avenge John was visceral and you understood that his mind wouldn't be able to find rest if he couldn't kill Luca Changretta, hence putting an end to the vicious cycle of vengeance. And you definitely hadn't the heart to deny him this unhealthy yet efficient way of exorcising both his guilt and his baby brother's death. “So be it.” You finally granted, endless love shining in your eyes. After all, if there was something you could understand it was vengeance. Torturing and butchering five men didn’t bring your family back, but the pleasure of watching life slipping away from them had nonetheless helped you put up with that excruciating wound, "But when you’ll kill that bastard put two bullets through his head. One for you, and one for me.” You concluded, shifting your body slightly to take the gun that was on his desk before wrapping his neck with your two arms again. And then the mask of the lamb fell, shattering on the ground and revealing the wolf you were. A wolf that was smiling and moaning, its thumb softly caressing the weapon’s metal.

"I'll do that, little one." A smile beamed on his face as you allowed him to carry on his personal vendetta — or as he felt the sensation of the gun resting against his back, his joy finding a delicious echo in his body. The circular movements of his hips turned into deep and full-length thrusts that had you throwing your head back and chanting his name.

“Mr. Shelby! “

“I’m fookin’ busy!” Arthur’s booming voice roared in the office as he slammed the door right at the man’s face. The access to the room might have been forbidden to him, but the cacophony of savage fucking and the noise of the office’s blinds being shaken left no doubt on what was happening. He finally gave up, well aware that nothing would make his boss come. It was only when he told him that two intruders had been spotted in the factory that Arthur stormed out of the room, disheveled, shirt quickly buttoned u,p and with a hammer in one hand. A bloodbath was coming and since nothing could be done to prevent it, Ben went back to work and tried to ignore the upcoming mess. With a bit of luck, they would manage to put down the rabid beast Arthur Shelby was. Soon after his departure, the white-haired girl left, snuggled up in her white fur coat and walking as elegantly as always, even if she was slightly staggering on her heels after what the gangster did to her.

“Poor girl.” Barney — another worker recently hired — stated, glancing at you as you passed by. “She’s nice. Y’know she brings us treats and pastries sometimes… What a shame that young lady had been forced to elope with this bastard.”

“Poor girl?” Ben replied to his colleague, almost choking. “Forced wedding? You’re really new here, mate. Can’t believe the doll blinded you. Something’s off with her. And forced wedding… All you have to do is pay attention to the way they look at each other and then you’ll understand. And it will frighten you.”

“Ya really talking about sweet lamb Heaven?”

Ben scoffed, “A lamb… When your eyes meet Heaven Shelby’s nobody can’t tell if she wanna braid your hair or eat your heart. Lamb she’s not. Don’t get fooled by the dresses and heels, she’s not playing doll. She only makes violence look better.”

Barney became silent at his friend’s sordid statement, the far away sound of Arthur yelling, bones breaking and agonizing screams resounded in the depths of the factory along with the machines’ roars. Amidst the smells of hot metal, sweat, and paint, lingered the spring-like fragrances of your perfume, which confused him even more.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

[roobylavender]

what do you think wally's experience was like suddenly switching from titan to JL member? i mean obv we see him talk about it in canon but i like how you word things :D also related to what you once said on twitter about nightwing being scarily competent to the point of reigning in his emotions even more than bruce who can become reckless from grief...i thought it was interesting bc wally doesn't even name batman (dick's natural JLA counterpart) as JLA's leader, he says it's superman!!

i think the fun thing about wally switching teams is that like. unlike some of the other members of the titans he's very well integrated with the older crowd (i would say roy is very close as well. and i am sure a lot of people would mention dick bc of the whole multiverse reliability factor but i think that has more to do with his skills and competency than him necessarily being close with every hero in the upper echelons). part of what makes him such a solid legacy character is the fact that he is actually entrenched in the legacy on a big picture level. inheritance of barry's mantle is not the only thing at stake rather it is wally's entire dream and perspective on what it means to be a hero that is at stake. the members of the league are people he has looked up to and aspired towards his entire life but they are also people his uncle would call friends. so there is a bit of pressure and exasperation there at having to prove himself to these people bc he's been nyooming within their circles for years upon years and has taken active interest in and admired them for a large part of that time only to be approached with some hesitation upon finally taking his predecessor's mantle

but as we can see that hesitation doesn't take long to wear off and wally does prove himself to be worthy of that title. i'm sure it's something every member of the league was secretly hoping for, though they may not say it aloud. bc he's barry's boy. and as much as they dread the pressure of this weight that falls onto wally's shoulders they also know the kind of person he is and they are also witness to the fierceness of his spirit. so he's young, he's a little brash, he's clearly drowning in despair for a while. but they dote on him. they give him space to grow. they take him in like one of their own bc he is one of their own, he always has been. and i don't think that's something you can say for any other ordinary new entry to the league. they don't have that connection. they don't have that automatic guarantee of guarded but simultaneously unabashed affection. the wonder of wally's legacy is that barry's lasting shadow is important in the most endearing ways. it gives way to a belief in duty, it gives way to hope, it gives way to this place for wally to always have no matter how lonely the world finds him. it allows wally to keep believing in heroism and that fledgling idea of what it means to do good when he was gifted powers at the tender age of ten

and i absolutely believe it's what makes clark the symbol of the league for wally as well. clark represents everything that wally believes in and everything that barry left him with. hope, love, perseverance, and most of all, the guarantee of a place to belong

[missmeinyourbones]

TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOVED IT

TW: blood, injury, mentions of stitching an open wound, touya is hurt and reader has to help him, probably inaccurate medical terms and procedures bc im not a doctor

Blood has a certain stench, one that never fails to make your heart sink to your stomach. 

It smells hot and metallic, like an iron rod being glazed over an open furnace. It’s foreign. Like you shouldn't be smelling it in the first place, like it knows it shouldn't be intruding on your senses but still does so carelessly. It’s a heavy scent, one that lingers in your mind long after it's been rid of your sight. It's a scent you don't forget. It smells thick and tepid and wrong. 

Chemically, Touya’s blood is all the same, so it should smell no different. But it does. 

It smells ten times worse—it smells like fear, like the bone-crushing feeling of realizing that your flying has turned into falling. It reeks of hopelessness, of being frozen in place and not being able to do anything but idly watch. It doesn't smell like the burning of his skin or the smoke of his cigarettes. It smells like death. 

You never want to smell it again, but realistically, that can only successfully happen in one of two ways.

One, you stop it. Stop his current bleeding. Stop him from giving his all to a cause that wears him away to skin and bone. Stop the fire inside of him from catching any further, the one that’s kept him warm and full of hatred for the past ten years. 

Or two, he dies. He takes away the opportunity by not having any blood left. Can’t smell what’s not there.  

As the familiar scent fills your nostrils, you remind yourself that now is not the time to be weighing your options. Now, is time to act. 

“Touya, that’s—that’s a lot of blood,” your voice quivers.

You watch his frame shudder at the loss of warmth in his veins. Eyes raking over his body at the speed of light, he slumps against the wall beside your door.

“Thanks,” he somehow still finds the energy to tease, “s’exactly what I wanna hear right now.”

The cheap first aid kit you’d put together sits beside where you kneel, the red plus on the cover silently mocking you. You had bought a cheap one a few months ago, adding your own items after being unprepared the first few times he’d caught you off guard with a late night visit and alarming injuries. 

You remember the first time you pulled it out, how he’d teased you for going soft on him—as if you haven’t been, as if you always weren’t. 

You tear a fresh needle from the packaging before searching the plastic box for some thread. This isn't the first time you've stitched him up, and while you hope it's the last, something about it feels different this time.

You shove that thought to the back of your brain. 

Not now, you tell yourself. You've done it before. You’ll do it again.

Your hands tremble helplessly as you begin to bring the needle closer to the end of the string. For a split moment, they align and you push them together—only to be a second too late and miss the opening. The string curls in on itself and around the needle.  

“Okay, okay, okay it's fine. You—you’re fine, you’re gonna be fine. I just—just have to—”

His slurred speech finishes your thought, “Thread the needle.” 

You lick the end of the string in an attempt to smooth it and aid your shaky hand. The twine trembles around the tiny metal opening before barely missing—once, twice, three times. As if mocking you, it sticks to the side of the needle before jumping off and forcing you to try again.

“Yeah,” you barely whisper beneath a sigh, not wanting to breathe too loud in fear of the slightest breeze playing a role in your struggle.

The string laughs at your desperate and feeble attempts. As if it knows that every second you take to thread the needle—the needle meant to stop Touya from bleeding out on your floor—is a second lost in saving him. Its laughter mimics the sound of a ticking clock. One that refuses to stop, no matter how many times you pull the string away from the hole and try, try, try. 

Your breath quickens as you lick the end of the thread once more. You’re losing time. He’s dying in your hands. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s fine, just stay awake, okay? Just keep, fuck—!”  

Your fists clench in panic after missing for the umpteenth time, nails digging into the palms of your hands and leaving crescents that you don't even feel through the heat of the moment. The cry comes out pathetic from the back of your throat. A pure guttural groan of frustration and terror and complete incompetency. 

You can’t do it. You can’t thread the measly needle that could save his fucking life. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. M’sorry, my hands. My hands won’t stop shaking, I can’t. I don’t think I can—”

“You got it,” Touya enunciates the syllables slowly, and you don't know if it's so you hear him clearly or if it’s because he’s struggling to get them out.  

“I don't, I—”

His hand softly grazes your knee, before fully resting its weight on top. 

“I believe in you,” he bleeds, not from his wound but from his mouth. And not of blood, but of an ever-flowing trust that feels a lot like love. But even dying, Touya is guarded—so he catches himself and recovers with a lame, “Or whatever.”

His words make you still for a moment—a moment you can't afford to be idle for. 

“What—?”

Touya audibly laughs at your reaction, immediately wincing at the sharp soreness oozing from his abdomen.

“Yeah, I know,” he mentally scolds himself. “If it feels weird hearing it, imagine how fuckin’ weird it feels saying it.” 

Something in Touya’s words changes something in you. Now, instead of hyperventilating, you’re holding your breath. But it doesn't feel suffocating, like you’re gasping for air. It feels like a moment of stillness, peace. 

As if his tongue works magic, your still hands thread the needle.

A shaky exhale shrugs your shoulders. You readjust your positioning so you're closer to his torso. “I don't think it’s weird,” your voice is merely a ghosted whisper. “It just caught me off guard.”

Touya takes a pained inhale. “Me too,” he admits without a hint of shame, “didn’t really believe in people anymore, ‘til you came and fucked me all up.”

You laugh, a snotty teary giggle from the back of your throat, and Touya feels like he’s on fire in the best way possible. In a way that cleanses him of all sins and allows him to be reborn from the charcoal of his own ashes.

“Sorry,” you whisper with a shaky smile. Your nose is sniffly and your labored breathing almost matches his.

He immediately retaliates, “Don’t be.”

He feels more awake now, more aware. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from all the blood he’s lost, or perhaps your laughter truly breathed that much more life back into his lungs. 

“Okay,” you sit up straight, leaning over his frame and bringing your hands closer to where he bleeds, “okay just, talk to me. Keep talking.”

You don't mean for it to come across as a plea, but it does—both of you can sense the desperation behind it. You don't know whether you beg for him to talk so he can stay awake, or so you can stay distracted from the weight of the situation at hand. 

You decide through ragged breathing that maybe it can be both of those things. Maybe everything doesn't have to be so black and white. Grey can be nice, too. 

Touya does what he does best, and he puts up a fight. 

“Really?” he glares, one that's far too familiar and far too inappropriate for a time like this. 

“Yes,” the demand is hushed through your clenched teeth. Your eyes remain on the shredded skin of his wound, needle now aligned in preparation to begin stitching. 

“Fine, come here often?”

His smug response gives you the courage to push the needle through the skin by the edge of the wound. Touya groans at the immediate sting of the intrusion, wincing at the dragging of the thread. 

“Too often,” you pull the string taut, resulting in another flinch from him, “but that's not what I meant.”

“Should’ve specified,” he grits through a clenched jaw. 

The needle is now moist with Touya’s blood. Every time the string is pulled through his skin in an attempt to close the wound, it comes out red, red, red.

You feel yourself getting worked up again. Your adrenaline can only carry you for so long, you can feel it withering away as anxiety replaces itself back into your veins. 

“This is really fucking deep, Touya, I don’t know if—if I can—”

“When I was younger,” his voice is strained, as if it hurts him to speak, “I used to love the fall.”

Your eyes flicker up from his cut and to his stare—he’s already looking at you, not caring that he’s been caught admiring your misty eyes. After a moment, his gaze finds the ceiling with another shaky exhale.

He continues, “Counted down the days ‘til October came around every year.”

His tone is a bit dreamy, like he isn't reliving a memory but instead telling a story—one that never got to fully be his. 

Your hands busy themselves with closing his wound again, “What’d you like about it?”

“The trees,” he answers seamlessly, “the way they change colors.” His pupils grow in size as he imagines the colors in his mind. “Green. Then yellow and orange. Reds and browns.” 

You say nothing, but nod in encouragement—so he knows you're listening, knows you want him to keep talking. Though just a mere tilt of your head, Touya knows to read it as a desperate ‘thank you.’ 

“My mom said somethin’ one time, about how they reminded her of my hair. Changing.”

His words make you think of a tiny Touya Todoroki. One with white frayed locks that bleed with shades of red randomly drizzled across his scalp. As if he were a painting and the artist delicately danced a few single brushstrokes of scarlet onto his canvas. 

“I like how they change, but I think—”

He pauses and you think it’s because you’ve hurt him. You expect him to sharply inhale or groan in agony as you near the end of sealing his wound and tying the string. 

But he doesn’t, he just stops. As if he’s thinking to himself, his eyes return to you. 

“I think my favorite part is how they always grow back,” he decides. “Every Autumn, they fall off and die. But every Spring, they come back.”

You nod back to him, because you understand him. Maybe not fully, maybe not at all, the more you think about it. But you try to understand him, you always try. And that’s more than he’s ever been given.

After a moment of silent staring, he merely shrugs off in embarrassment the topic—now no longer on the brink of death and suddenly embarrassed at the vulnerable overflow of word vomit.

“I dunno, I jus’ like it,” he concludes.

The wound is now closed—poorly, but closed all the same. The red blood he’s covered in is no longer fresh and oozing from the cut, but is now dry and flakes into a deep burgundy on his torso. 

You straighten your back, having been hunched over on your knees for the past twenty minutes. “It’s not great, but it stopped the bleeding,” you conclude with the ability to finally breathe.  

Touya rolls his eyes at your humble statement, “It does the job.”

It saved my life, is what he means to say. You saved my life, with more than just a needle and thread.

He brings a hand to your cheek. You grab his wrist with both hands, keeping it in place against your skin. He watches you lean into the touch, and he comforts you by tapping his fingers against your blush a few times.

Your eyelashes flutter against his fingertips, “Make me do this for you again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Touya smiles, a lazy one, but you decide it still counts. You’ll take what you can get. 

“Sorry, doll.”

[crowhunterzz]

I have one hundred thousand billion. but I will try to offer a reasonable amount.

Old man Gehrman:

-suffers aches in a majority of his joints, he’s so old and so tall…

-as his sobbing in the OoK cutscene implies, when Gehrman is asleep his mind is under the influence of Kos/the Hunter’s Nightmare, which ceaselessly tortures him with images of his greatest failings and the scents of blood, beast, and the sea

-he’s straight up afraid of the Doll, she looks so much like Maria while being so far from the woman herself that it haunts him, the guilt he suffers over it has caused him to stop speaking about Maria at all

-he is also afraid of Flora/Moon Presence

-i like the idea that he has very very little, if any, insight, to avoid both

-still enjoys tinkering with weapons and stuff, will offer to assist hunters with their weapons

-the longer the dream goes on/the more hunters that pass through however, he loses the will to assist with weapons as much, bc no matter what bond he tries to forge, the result is always the same. another grave among the flowers.

-this is why Gehrman does not ask the player character’s name, he will offer advice but he dreads connection bc he knows he will only have another face to grieve and then forget

-as the dream messes with his mind, the only face he can consciously remember is Maria’s bc it’s still around, but no others

-once tried to pass the time waiting for Laurence by reading the books in the dream, only to discover all of them are completely empty

-he misses being able to regularly do things like make weapons/armor, cook for himself, even clean things, etc. he hates the endless waiting, but it’s worse with nothing to fill it, and as he himself states, he feels he’s of little use now

-Gehrman, as his dialogue implies, has aged while in the dream, though I do think he was already older when he entered it

-speaking of dialogue! his cut dialogue “What were you thinking? If I die, you are to be next… What is is you want, from this horrific nightmare?” is pretty much a direct reflection of his thoughts towards any attempt to free him, he hates the idea of another suffering in his place, despite the fact that his place has become unbearable

-despite having been a hunter in life and likely spending many many nights awake to participate in beast slaying, Gehrman misses the sun (especially it’s warmth… i hc he’s cold all the time)

-he lost his leg before the dream*, and he used a cane back then, but the wheelchair was not something he had prior

Okay now young(er) man Gehrman:

-I agree with the popular (?) hc that he was a groundskeeper at Byrgenwerth, but I also think he participated in studies and was extremely well-versed in the same Pthumerian topics as Laurence and the others

-I also think he was pretty routinely in the Pthumerian labyrinths

-though the dialogue is cut, I do like the implication that Gehrman suggested the hunting of beasts to Laurence, as Laurence initially pitied them/saw them as people that could perhaps still be healed, but Gehrman only saw their destructive nature and bloodlust

-Maria was not Gehrman’s first apprentice (though I believe this is outright stated) and he trained many hunters over the years to at least some degree. Maria was the student he was closest to, as she was his prodigy, and she was also his last student

-his parents were farmers, and raised him in the countryside, they were against his going to Byrgenwerth

-he is an only child

-he always had an obsessive personality, and his primary focuses were Great Ones/Laurence’s research and beast hunting

-Gehrman loved (most) splinter factions of hunters and enjoyed seeing the way they fought and the weapons they used (especially the Powder Kegs), while he was only ever just a hunter, he was respected by all factions because he had started the practice

-He has always pitied those who take on the role of Hunter of Hunters, and shows them immense respect, (little does he know, he too will be killing tons of hunters in the future)

-*lost his leg to a particularly vicious beast(Paarl), continued hunting for a long time after, but did have to make heavy adjustments to his fighting style, and did not hunt alone again, and as mentioned, used a cane afterwards

-he was well respected, had such an extreme love and care for his interests, while he was a bit awkward, he had a lot of charisma and was well-liked

-i also think he was particularly clever and witty, which did carry over into his old age but he was also becoming extremely depressed then as his life continued to crumble around him

-he was also stubborn, despite the fact that following the Fishing Hamlet incident, things continued to get worse at an alarmingly rapid rate, he did not regret it until Maria’s death

round 2. bloodborbe homies. give me your headcanons/theories for gehrman. now 🫵

[tarobytez]

disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant. 

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist. 

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is. 

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”. 

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me. 

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.  

Oh fucking boy. 

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully. 

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled. 

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability. 

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community. 

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged. 

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people. 

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted. 

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows. 

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

[daunsun]

oOOOOOooOooooo sosososo for baseball au, how did u decide on the positions? and the jersey numbers? im also curious about the rest of the team? who'd the catcher be? what teams do they play against? do u reckon they'd play against like, the old animatronics from different branches of fazbear entertainment? oh oh what if they played against the animatronics from the walten files series? or some other analog horror series? wAIT IS WILLIAM THE COACH??????? HOW MANY GAMES HAVE THEY WON?? WAIT WAIT ALSO ALSO-

sorry for ramble i have so many questions about this au bc it is very cool yaaaaaaaaaa

OOOOOOOOO thank you for asking chair I love your asks

The positions actually had a good amount of thought behind them! I picked Sun for second base because from my own personal experience, second base has to communicate lots with other players, constantly move from side to side around their base, and really just needs lots of energy and range. I thought Sun would be a good fit for that, plus it sounded funny in my head for him to be the one shouting the plays. As for Moon's role as pitcher, he already has a good figure for it, very flexible and lean to get the full range of motion, and he'd totally get a kick out of tricking the batter as to what kind of pitch he's going to throw. He may not be actively trying to kill whoever's on the plate, but he's getting there with how close that ball is getting to their face and still being called as a strike. Lastly, I'm not entirely sure, but he just gives off the vibe that every action is coordinated specifically to mess with you. (Also, personally, pitchers are terrifying.)

As for the numbers, I gave Sun his number first because it's just my favorite jersey number, I guess. Has a bit of sentimentality to me, and I thought it would be nice for him to have it since he's not in an attention-grabbing position like Moon is. Moon, on the other hand, has a lower number (but not too far from Sun's) because of his role as the pitcher, because he's naturally less replaceable on the field. I also just wanted to include a zero on his jersey number, lmao. (Bonus: I was tempted to give him 32, but that seemed like too high of a jersey number.)

For the rest of the team, I'm not entirely sure, but these are the ideas I've had!

Monty - Back-Catcher (He's just built for it, also I think he'd have way too much fun stopping runners from getting home.)

Roxy - First Base! (I don't know why, but I like this one. She'd probably enjoy the attention from stopping runners in their tracks. Plus, she'd coordinate well with Monty. Been thinking about this for a solid minute.)

Chica - Outfield (?) or Shortstop (She just feels like a right outfielder, y’know? Plus there’s the bonus of lots of audience interaction in the stadium, hehe. At the same time, she feels like one of the more mobile Glamrocks, so she’d probably be able to get around a fair amount.)

Team Captain Freddy - Third Base (I’d like to make him short stop, but he just isn’t mobile enough for that, y’know? Sun could very well be short stop as well, now that I’m thinking about it. Third base does feel like a very social position, and he’s able to communicate well with Monty despite the latter being a pain in the rear, so it’s a good position for him!)

DJMM - Outfielder! (I’m more sure about him than Chica for this role, and he feels like a left outfield type of guy. He’s a big boy! No ball is getting past him. Though he’s not his canonical size in this au, of course. Some modifications are needed.)

For the rest of the positions, they’d likely be filled by modified staff bots (OR OCS!!), or maybe some of the retired animatronics? Bonnie or Foxy perhaps? Bonnie feels like a center-fielder, honestly.

I’ve joked around about opposing teams with a few other creators, but I’m genuinely not sure who they’d play against! It wouldn’t be fair to pit them against other humans, (Unless, like, it’s an all-star team lmao) but I don’t feel like any of the older animatronics would be fit to play. (Maybe FNAF 2 animatronics? They fit the type-) If you guys want to mess around, you could always make teams to go against them, hehe. I’d love to see what you guys could do with your own characters or concepts.

William has some influence here!!! Did you hear about their pitcher getting injured? What a poor thing. Oh, but I also heard he hurt someone, and that’s why he got taken out! Really? I thought he fell ill. If robots can even fall ill. Teehee. Have some doodles!

Thanks for the ask! I was so excited to ramble about this

[palpipeen]

Caf Delivery Service Part 3 - CC-1010 Fox/Reader

Your job should be easy, in theory. Take caf orders once a week for the Coruscant Guard, make the orders, and deliver them. Simple as can be. So long as you don’t count the Commander, that is.

Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Sexual Content, Dry Humping, Vaginal Fingering, Frotting, Handjob, Come Eating, Sloppy Makeouts, Dirty Talk, Reader overthinking everything AGAIN, Fox has a lot of emotions and not enough sleep to navigate them, Helmet Kink (?), They have to talk like adults and woh that's scary, The seggsy times happens in a utility closet haha oops Reader is AFAB and uses She/Her Pronouns Word Count: 6507 (oops) AN: Based on the increase in word count, I'm going to operate under the assumption that we all know stuff is going down in this chapter! I didn't want to split it up bc it didn't read right when I did. The next few chapters might be this long, they might be the same length as previous ones. Anyway. Expect more spice but also A LOT OF ANGST in the next chapter~ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

NSFW/18+ Under the Cut! MINORS DNI

If there was a word in Basic that could describe a thousand times worse than nervous, you were fairly certain you’d be the definition of it. Cited as the source of it. They could write research papers about you and advance the study of mental health in a day, with the leaps and bounds of logic your brain was making.

Needless to say, you’re kind of terrified. You’re pretty sure you’ve worn down your nails to the quick. (You haven’t, it just feels like it.) The only reason why you’re okay with this in the first place is Thorn and Hound assured you they’d be right outside. Not that their assurances insinuated the Commander would do anything untoward - just to prevent anyone from thinking something like that would happen.

But let’s be honest here, part of you wished something like that would happen.

It’s difficult to unpack everything, but you can’t help it. You’ve been obsessing over every minute detail the entire twenty-four hours before you’re supposed to be at Fox’s office. And it’s been difficult because everything with Fox is so up-and-down. It’s been an exhausting day even if you didn’t do much at work or at home. But does that stop you from worrying about how intense your feelings for him are?

Sure as shit doesn’t.

You have a crush on him. Okay, the idea of him, since you knew next to nothing about him besides his name a little over a month ago. He’s competent, a hard worker, and the awkward inability to stumble through small-talk was something you could relate to. But he was also abrasive at times, even a little hostile. None of which you deserved, which you hope you’ll be able to tell him when you arrive at his office.

Just because all of Coruscant walked all over him didn’t give him the right to walk all over you .

The drive there is a little jarring. Everything is so different in darkness. Well, relative darkness. You’re still thankful you put aside some credits to buy black-out curtains. The neon lights are a bit more garish and while there’s not as much rush-hour traffic, people are still impatient to get to where they’re going. Seeing crashes in Coruscant is fairly commonplace, but you see and nearly get clipped in about a dozen by the time you get to the Department building. Which does nothing for your already shot nerves.

You’re glad you showered before you came here, but you wonder if it did you any good with how much you’re sweating.

Standing at the stairs to the entryway makes you feel incredibly small. More than the senate buildings and businesses you’ve been to. It makes you feel insignificant, which is ironic in the worst way. The Guard has filled the role of protecting the Coruscant public - there are so many of them, and yet the Republic treats them like next to nothing. You’ve heard a few of them recounting the horrific interactions with senators or civilians. And you wonder if this is how all of them feel when filing into this building to report for duty.

It boils your blood. Sure, you get to have a little more one-on-one conversations with Hound and Thorn - but there are so many others you’ve come to know. There’s one with an auburesh tattoo on his left jaw who has to eat his croissants a certain way, and has to finish it before he’s even made it to his table or else he’ll catch hell from his brothers. And there’s the one with the sweet tooth who has striking gray eyes. ‘Something went wrong in my tube,’ he told you once, when he caught you staring. But you always make sure there’s an extra cherry pastry for him, and he’s one of the few who always takes time from his orders to make sure he holds the door open for you on your way out.

There’s more than a dozen who wait to hear your recommendations for the day. And half of them always go with whatever they’re familiar with, a little sheepish as they do it. But you know they enjoy hearing your suggestions. You’ve been told so many times by them that they appreciate what you do that you’ve lost count. And each time it’s so earnest . They mean it. And it’s unspoken, but when they tell you this, it feels like there’s some underlying words.

You see us , they say. You see us as living, breathing, bleeding individuals . The fact that they all share the same face and genetic material has become an afterthought to you by now. And their individuality means a lot to you. More than you’d realized until you’re on the lift to the right floor. Sometimes you swear they treat you like family, which is a rarity in your life you’ve come to cherish. You really hope that you can keep helping them feel seen. 

But that’s all on Commander Fox now.

By the time you’ve reached the floor his office is in, you’ve chewed a spot on your bottom lip raw. So you’ve got that going for you. It’s a good thing you didn’t have any caf this morning, because your stomach is in such a state of upset you’d book it for the fresher the second the doors open. But Thorn and Hound are there waiting for you, so - so -

You swallow, hard, and it feels like you just took a bite out of some sandpaper and thought it was a good idea to digest it. So everything sucks, that’s where you’re at.

“Thanks,” you eventually say as you step out of the elevator. When they don’t reply, you gesture vaguely in the direction of his office. “For this. Look, I’m sorry for being demanding, but —“

“You have no reason to apologize,” Hound says when you just. Stop talking. He shrugs when you look at him incredulously. “Commander’s a dick sometimes, but he has to deal with folks outside the senate sometimes. He’s gotta learn there’s consequences for being — “

“ — the way he is,” Thorn finishes when Hound seems to be at a loss for words.

“Right. Being like that. If you’re out, we’re out of decent caf for however long it takes for another shop to sling some out way.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Even as much as you've thought Fox's up-and-down behavior made this not worth it, you know deep down you want this to work. For them. You take in a deep breath, and with a curt nod to them both you stride up to the door. It hisses open at your approach, and you step inside.

His helmet is off. That’s what you notice first, because of course you do. You’d been trying to ignore the butterflies in your gut the entire way here, and you’d done a decent job. But they come back with a vengeance the moment you see the unruly curls, the unshaven beginning of a beard along his jaw, and the deep circles under his eyes. Eyes that haven’t looked up from the datapad on his desk.

There’s a lot of silence. You stand there in it - drowning in it. Mired in it. The quiet is maddening. You can hear the pops in your jaw as you grind your teeth, the jingling of the zipper on your jacket is deafening. But worst of all, you can hear your thoughts.

This is so fucking stupid. He’s going to tell you to fuck yourself. He’s going to say you’re crazy for thinking he was flirting with you. Look at you, you just deliver caf - why would a man like him stoop that low? He’s going to he mad, he’s going to yell at you, he’s —

“Almost didn’t recognize you without the cart.” You nearly jump out of your skin, and there’s that quiet snort again. Definitely a laugh. His eyes flick up from the datapad to give you a quick look. And joy of joys, you can tell exactly nothing about what he’s thinking from that look. Just that he’s acknowledging your presence.

Sort of. Because after that, he goes quiet again. But he did break the seal, so…

“It wouldn’t fit in my speeder,” you say with a shrug. He snorts again, but it turns into a surprised laugh. Your eyebrows lift up at the sound. “Wow, did you actually sleep, or is laughing something that you’re capable of when you’re well rested?”

“Define ‘well rested.’”

“A solid eight standard hours that go uninterrupted?” He scoffs at you, and you fold your arms with an exasperated groan. “Let me guess, you don’t have time?”

“No. I don’t. And I really don’t have time for this,” he gestures between the two of you, “either. So make it quick.”

“Thanks ever so much for taking time out of your busy schedule,” you say, rolling your eyes. You’ve just about had it, so you close the distance between you and his desk. Bracing your weight on your palms, you lean down so your eyes are level with his. “Look. The elevator thing. That wasn’t cool.”

“What, the boys not telling you about the others?”

“No, don’t play stupid, Commander. The whole — “ you glance away from him as you feel a blush creeping up your neck “ — when we were talking about what you wanted, and I accidentally…I mean when you said, but I’m sure you were just joking — “

“Oh, you mean when I came onto you.” You reel back from the desk, and he stands up. Slowly. He’s…huge. He’s broad - more than his brothers. How didn’t you notice?! You did, but it's just the context of this conversation that makes it really sink in. Fox’s eyes remain locked onto yours as he continues. “I wasn’t joking.”

“O-okay, cool!” Fuck’s sake, since when did your voice get that high? “Good to know, alright I, didn’t think - I didn’t want to make any stupid assumptions, I mean you’re - you’re a very busy man and you, you’ve got the entire Guard to run and I can’t even imagine how much that takes out of you, and how many people probably throw themselves at you so I — I think I’m just gonna go.”

A lot happens at once. You think you managed to get halfway to the door before he caught up to you, and he grabbed your wrist, but then you’re slumped against him? Did you two trip? You’re not sure, but he’s close enough that you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, and fuck he’s out of breath and suddenly you can see he’s freaked out and wow that’s hot. Less the last part, but it’s that kind of vulnerability that makes you feel like maybe he’s not fucking with you?

“Stay.” His voice is a growl again, and you shiver. He sees it, because of course he does, there’s nothing that happens in Coruscant that he misses. But you can’t think as his hand reaches out to your face. The fabric of his gloves makes you jump as he strokes your cheek with the back of two fingers. “I’ve got time. If you’re willing.”

“Oh I am.” Wow, you sure did shout that, huh? Screwing your eyes shut, you let out a frustrated sound and plant your hands on his cuirass and push . “Wait, hold on. This isn’t - okay, rewind. Please.” He moves, quickly, backing away from you with his hands held up. Running your hands down your face, you glance around the office, and without thinking you grab him by the wrist and drag him to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.” He does, but he looks like he’d rather not until you sit across from him. Holding up your hands, you notice he stops leaning towards you. “Look. You’re all over the place. And you’re clearly very, very sleep deprived. You’ve kind of been a dick to me, a lot, and whatever happens - if anything at all - it depends on you at least trying not to be that way.”

“I can. I will . But I’m not - I wasn’t made for this.” He gestures between the two of you, and your heart breaks a little. Not for you - the validation that he was hitting on you is enough. For now. At least that’s what you tell yourself. “I was created to be a soldier, and now I’m nothing but the Chancellor’s glorified errand runner. I’ve got to watch out for the entire fucking planet, my men, a Republic that thinks of us as little more than goddamn meat shields .” He spits the last part out, standing up so abruptly his chair falls back with a loud clatter. You would have jumped if you didn’t know that none of this was aimed at you. “And all they can manage to give us for fighting this war for them, for keeping them safe from the hundreds of terrorist attacks and assassination attempts that happen every fucking hour is…is caf ?!” The Commander wheels around, pacing like a caged animal. “They’re my men. My brothers. They’re all I have, and I’m supposed to keep them safe. Trying to figure out where you fit in this mix - if at all - it's impossible.”

“I know.” Two words. They’re simple, but they’re true. You see something in his eyes when he turns to face you, something like…well, it’s like hope and fear and dread and elation all wrapped into one. It’s difficult to name, but even his carefully put-together mask can’t hide it when you say the first thing you can think of. “I see you, Commander.” The sigh you let out is tired as you stand up, picking up the chair and leaning against the back for support. “I see all of you - and I wish I could do more than just caf. But I’m just one person and I know that. But so are you.”

“I can’t afford to be just one man.” He sounds furious with himself, and you glance over your shoulder at him. Disgust drips from his words as he continues. “Don’t give me that look - you and I both know it’s true. I have to be in a dozen different places at any and all given times, any order given I have to be there, for the Republic.”

Slowly, you tilt your head at him. All of this has been really weird. He’s still up-and-down, and just when it seems like you’re making headway, he backpedals. Folding your arms, you wander over to his desk, leaning your hip against it with your back to the Coruscant skyscape. Your head falls back as you let out a noisy sigh, lips pursed in thought, before you roll your head to one side and stare at him. Commander Fox stares back at you. Hands flexing at his sides, balling into fists, clenching and unfurling. You see his throat bob with a hard swallow. And you can recognize anxiety in another person when you see it, but he doesn’t look away from you. It’s funny. It’s almost like now that you’ve seen one emotion, you can see the rest.

When you pat the space on the ledge of his desk next to you, he crosses the space in two strides. Just two. And you have to take a moment to reel in the fact that he’s just -

He’s fucking huge.

“How long do we have?”

“...for?” It’s just one word, but it’s heavy with implications. You make a face at him, swatting gently at the side of his arm with the back of your hand. He looks away and has the decency to look a little ashamed, running a hand down the length of his face. When he speaks it’s slightly muffled behind his hand. “Alright, if not for that, I guess…half an hour?”

“Wow. You thought you and I could…that we were gonna…but Thorn and Hound, can’t they --” You turn to squint at him incredulously. “Half an hour?”

“I’ve had less time.”

“I -- wow, okay.” That’s a lot to unpack. You push off the desk, fingers steepled in front of your chin. “Interesting. Anyway! I have a proposition for you.”

“Now who’s being hot and cold?”

“Okay, smartass, but this isn’t about that.” Not yet anyway.

“Then what?”

“So,” you turn to him, and you can’t help but beam at him. This idea - it’s just too good. “Y’know how I said there’s not enough room for my cart on my speeder?”

“...yeah.” He tilts his head slightly, staring you down and giving you the side-eye at the same time. “What’re you getting at?”

“Five minutes - that’s all the time it’ll take to get there. And I know a shortcut if we need to get back sooner. So that’ll give us - what - twenty-ish minutes? Twenty minutes. Outside the office.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on, Commander --”

“No.”

“What, think I don’t know how to keep track of time?” Hands on your hips, you step into his space again. "I work in the service industry, honey, keeping track of time is as necessary as breathing in this industry."

“I doubt your ability to get us there and back in that amount of time, because you don’t have the clearances to drive that fast, or the training to fly like that in open-air traffic.” You lift an eyebrow at him, your lips curling slowly at the corners. His brow furrows in confusion, then exasperation as he rolls his eyes at you. “Maker, don’t tell me --”

“I might’ve borrowed my speeder from work and have the delivery settings on, yes. And before you ask, I know how to roll it back so none of this will get tracked back to us. And you don’t know me and my ability to drive a speeder, mister.”

“Ugh.” The frustration in the sound is at complete odds with how he looks at you, and you try not to let yourself think too much about it. But it’s hard not to as he chuckles, warm and fondly, shaking his head. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before?”

“I’m terrible at lying so I’m not gonna say I haven’t.”

“Most of you civs are terrible liars.” He sighs, picking up his helmet from his desk and putting it back on with practiced, confident motions. Huh . Who knew seeing him cover back up would make your stomach twist in knots? “Alright. Lead the way.”

Under the cover of his helmet, Fox watches your face break out into another one of those grins. He’s never seen this side of you, and that’s the only reason he’s taking such a huge risk. No. Really. It’s all he can think about as he follows you down to ground level, and the short ride that seems to last eons. If you smiled at him like that more, Fox was certain he could move mountains for you. And as tired as he was, he was grateful the helmet kept his face hidden.

If he’d gone without, you’d see just how much seeing you this happy was affecting him. And he'd never be able to go back from that point.

----

Time isn’t on your side, and later, you’ll regret that. Much, much later. Because not a lot of talking will be going on. But for whatever reason, you feel like you’re both on even footing.

…even footing standing on top of the neighboring skyscraper’s roof.

“How the hell did you get up here the first time?!” Fox sounds a little impressed. But mostly pissed. You don’t take your helmet off, knowing the air is thinner and your filters are the only things keeping you from passing out. A lesson you’d learned and nearly died for the first time.

That is not a part of this story you’ll be telling the Commander, of course. Not yet at least.

“Before the war,” you shout to be heard above the howling winds, “someone was trying to steal the credit chits for deliveries. I lost them up here.” You keep the speeder on - the familiar rumble just barely heard, but keeping the engine on is necessary. The winds would knock it clean off. Stepping off carefully, you stretch out. Having him pressed in tight against your back was something, but damn if you hadn’t wound yourself up tight. Turning, you jerk your head towards one of the utility exits. It's one you've been to more than a few times - the door doesn't close right so there's no actual protection from the wind or air quality, but it'll give you both some privacy. “C’mon - bit more sheltered over here.”

The Commander follows you, slowly. It’s a bit funny watching him shuffle the first few steps, arms outstretched like that’ll keep him from falling. Does he not know there are automatic gravity fields on these roofs? You decide that’s something you’d rather tell him later. It can wait. But this can’t. You hold the door open for him and lurch back when it slams shut from the force of the wind, both of you watching it for a moment as it slaps against the frame. How the hell this door hasn't been upgraded to something automatic is beyond you, but it speaks to the level of actual consideration architects gave utility workers.

Eventually the two of you look at each other, waiting. Then you lean against the nearest wall and sink down.

You see his head moving as he sinks down next to you, but you can’t hear him. It's a little more muffled, but you can both only make out half-sentences and words. A glance at your HUD tells you it might be the signal, but you don't feel like it would be smart to take your helmet off. After a few precious seconds of trying to hear each other, his head moves in a way that tells you he’s probably groaning again. He taps at one vanbrace, then pulls something out of his belt’s many pockets. The Commander holds out a microchip to you, no bigger than your pinky fingernail, and you manage to hold onto it as his hands reach out to feel around the underside of your helmet. A few more seconds pass as his fingers search and prod, until he finds something just under your jaw. You feel something click, and you’re quick to slide the chip into the slot.

“-- hear me?” His voice echoes around your ears, inside the helmet. You flinch, and you hear him chuckle. You can hear him breathing, too. “Our buckets are mass produced - malfunctions are bound to happen. The commlink channels don’t go often, but we usually carry extra links just in case.” It’s jarring down to your shoulders when he thunks his knuckles against your helmet, twice. “Lucky for us, yours is pretty versatile.”

“Neat,” you say, glancing nervously at the timer readout in your HUD. “Cheap store bought helmet has many uses. Anyway. So - I didn’t bring you up here just to uh, chat. I think.”

“You think?”

“I mean - urgh. Fox.” You turn so you’re facing him, kneeling next to him. One hand reaches out, gripping the hard edges of his knee-guard. “We don’t have to talk, if you want.” Your throat nearly closes up at that last word. Fuck, you’re so nervous. And you can feel the tension in his leg under your hand, but knowing he’s wound up doesn’t exactly put you at ease. “There’s not a lot of time, I know. But we have some time - and no, there aren’t any cameras up here. So no one will see us. It’s just us. So.” You slide your hand just slightly, so you can drag your fingertips against the fabric of his blacks in the gaps between his armor. “Do whatever you want. I’m more than willing.”

For a moment - much too long, in your opinion - he’s silent. You can’t hear him breathing. Not until he speaks again, a soft pop of feedback and then his voice is flooding the inside of your helmet again. 

“Get up here.” He takes your hand off of his knee, placing it on his shoulder instead. Broad hands bracket your hips, guiding you so you’re straddling him. You almost sit down but he squeezes, keeping you hovering for a moment while he reaches down, under you and between his legs. When he pushes you down, it’s fabric on fabric, not armor on fabric. And it’s not a lot, but it is. Because it’s fucking freezing even with your flight jacket and trousers on, but you can feel the heat of him.

You both groan, clinging to each other, as recognition floods you both. That this is real, and it’s happening, and it’s not just some one-sided desire for the other person. The two of you barely know each other. But it feels safer up here, under the cover of darkness and the fact that no one else ever comes here. Safer to address those unexplored feelings and just…

Let go.

When your head falls forward, it clips the side of his helmet. Fox guides you with a hand on the back of your neck, but even so it’s awkward at first. His armor still digs into you, his grip is vicelike and you can feel your skin bruising already, but eventually it all clicks into place. You’re soaked through, and that does nothing to help the fact that grinding on him fully clothed hasn’t been doing anything. Right up until he angles his hips just right, and his shaft grinds against your cunt.

“Fucking Maker.” He practically spits the words out, and you hear the words turn to a groan as you bare down on him, circling your hips just-so. “Fu-uhhhck, right there. Right fuckin’ there mesh’la . Gods I can feel how wet you are.” 

You whimper for him, and his fingers slide from your hips to grab a handful of your ass and squeeze. Hard. You let out a surprised sound as his other hand grabs the other side, and you know there will be some really interesting bruises there tomorrow. Arms sliding up from where you’d been clinging to his shoulders, you wrap them tight around the back of his neck, letting him guide you.

It’s not enough and too much at the same time. You both rut against each other, gasping and moaning into your helmets, in a channel only the two of you can hear. It somehow makes things that much more intense, at least for you. Hearing every sound, every gasped breath, every hissed out oath and half-word. Knowing you had this affect on him, and knowing he wanted you to feel just as good. It made you dizzy, and with every deliberate drag of his cock against you you could feel pressure building.

Slowly.

It seemed like that was the same conclusion Fox had just come to, because in the next half-second he was moving. Turning you both so you were flat on your back, his body still slotted between your thighs, desperately trying to open up the front of his blacks. You got the idea and immediately hooked your fingers into the waistline of your trousers, pushing them down, reaching for his. The two of you fumbled and struggled until both of you had the most important parts bare, though you were the one less covered with your pants pulled down past your knees.

“Shit it’s fucking - freezing up here.” 

His voice is tight, and cracks near the end when he brushes the head of his cock against your pussy. It’s still awkward, and you’re about to suggest he let you turn around when his fingers slide through the arousal that’s dripping from you. You’re about to protest when he moves his hand away, but quickly replaces it by covering your cunt with his other hand. And you’re not sure when he took his gloves off, but the sensation of his skin on yours is a welcome one. Calloused fingertips tease at your entrance and you push your hips up, your movements and his blending seamlessly so two of his fingers slide into you at the perfect angle.

“Fuck, Fox,” you whine, your hands immediately reaching out to clutch at him. He struggles to pry your dominant hand off of him, bringing it to close around his shaft. It’s slick somehow, and realization dawns on you. Your laugh is breathless as you start working your hand up and down his cock. “What, no lube?”

“Didn’t - nnh - didn’t want to presume anything, mesh’la.” 

After he  grits out every word he begins to fuck you with his fingers, moving with the kind of precise motions that tells you he’s done this before. Enough times to open you up for him and get you worked up quickly enough that you’re already close. But how could you not be? When you factor in his voice and how easily he pushes all of your buttons, and the fact that it’s been a long time. Plus the fact that all you can hear is him all while not being able to see his face is doing things for you. You can see him of course. But with the speakers of your helmet only picking up his voice, it’s practically drowned out everything else.

Also, he’s huge , too. Turns out that just seems to be a running theme for Fox. You can’t wrap your fingers all the way around him. You think about having all of that inside you and whine in the back of your throat as you stroke him, from base to tip. He’s already leaking, and you wish you didn’t have your helmet on. When you rub the pad of your thumb around the head, his breathing stutters as he lets a punched out moan. So you do it again. And again. Eventually you grab him with your free hand and pump his shaft, using the hitches in his breath and the way his hips twitch to guide your motions.

It isn’t perfect. And it isn’t what either of you wanted - okay, so it is. But all you can think about is him fucking you. And even if he’s working you quickly towards your climax and you’re doing your best to do the same for him, it’s not quite there .

“I wish we had m-more time,” you gasp out. He tilts his helmet at you slightly, an invitation to elaborate as he focuses on wringing every ounce of pleasure out of you. You laugh breathlessly again, and the sound twists with the almost cruel twist of his fingers as he works a third finger into you. As you struggle to put your thoughts to words, he seems content to distract you: sliding in and out, quirking his fingers at your inner walls as he pulls every noise out of you.

“For?” His voice is gruff, the quiet grunts and hitches of breath the only hint that the way you’re working him up is having an affect on him. “C’mon, mesh’la . Tell me.”

“Want you to fuck me.” His cock twitches in your hand, and you laugh again. This time low and in the back of your throat, and that seems to do things for Fox. His hips surge forward, rocking into your hands, and you keep a steady grip on him as you let him use you. “I uh - mi-might’ve thought about you - fuck , fucking me on that elevator. All day. Mmh, a lot.”

“Fuck.” He shoves his fingers in until his knuckles are digging into you, and you can feel the tremor in his arm. All the while his hips move, thrusting into you, and you can hear him panting in his helmet. “Fuck, you - nnh, don’t know how badly I wanted to. Wanted to get down on my knees and - “ His hand starts moving again, but instead of the in and out motions, it’s up and down. The warm coil of pleasure in your gut jumps, burning you from the inside out as the pressure starts to become unbearable. And he’s been talking the whole time, but you only manage to catch some of it when your head catches up to your body. “ - taste you, make you scream for me, see h-how much of me you could handle - “

“All of it,” You don’t know how you manage to get the words out as your hips uselessly try to rock into the way he’s absolutely destroying you. In the best way. “Give me all of it Commander.”

So - turns out, the whole growling quality of his voice thing. You'd already decided you found that very attractive. And then that’s all you can hear, Fox growling, and you can feel it when his whole body bears down on you even through his cuirass. His hand is relentless between your legs, and you’re so close, the sounds he’s making and the stretch of his fingers filling you up, but you’re not quite there.

“Come for me.” At some point his helmet got tucked into the crook of your neck - as best as he can, anyway, with your helmet and all of your clothes still mostly on and his hips messily thrusting into your hands still. But gods does it all feel so good, especially knowing this man is out of his mind for you. “C’mon - come for me, haven’t got much ti-ime left baby, come for me - come for me - “

The way he’s pleading for you is what does it. That and when he twists his hand just so, and he reaches his thumb up to rub it against your clit. Spots of black flood your vision as your body tenses up, and you clench around him as the pleasure pushes all other senses out. All you can feel is him, all you can hear are the rough, short grunts he lets out as he wrings every last ounce of your climax out of you, his body caging you in. The reality of it makes this all the more jarring, knowing that this is Fox, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard, the man you've been bringing caf to for months. Now reduced to a shuddering, incoherent mess as he works you through one of the best orgasms of your entire life.

It lasts for a while. Which is honestly alright with you.

Though it makes the mess in your hands a little bit confusing.

“When did you --?”

“When you called me ‘Commander.’” You both grunt when he sits up, one elbow braced on the floor above your head. Slowly, he pulls his hand from you, and you whine at the loss of him. Even if he’s still there. It’s still so good though, even if it’s freezing, even if your helmets are still on. Made even better when he looks at his hand, splaying his fingers open so a thin sheen of your arousal spreads between them. He swears in a language you don’t know - it’s similar to when he called you ‘mesh’la.’ “Fucks sake, how the hell am I gonna - “

“Here.” You rip your helmet off. It’s not a smart idea - your ears pop and you can immediately feel the thinner air quality, plus all the smog making your head spin. But the way he goes completely still as you grab him by the wrist and wrap your mouth around his fingers, one by one, makes it all worth it. And there’s also the mess on your hands from him, which you have to clean up. So you get to taste him anyway. A lot of him. Halfway through licking the bittersweet mess he left you with, you hum. “Damn, been a while, Fox?”

He doesn’t answer you. Instead he rips his helmet off too, and he’s on you again, his mouth covering yours. But you have a moment, just a moment, where you see how wrecked he looks. And gods does he really wreck you as he kisses you. He’s tasting you, and himself, thoroughly . It’s rough at first. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. But that roughness is sort of something you’ve come to associate with him. Even when your teeth knock and his stubble scratches, or when he bites at your lip a little too hard, it’s good. It’s so good. Getting to be privy to this side of him, even if you couldn’t see his face at first. Knowing he’s just as affected by you is more than you could have ever imagined.

Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end. You both jump when an alarm starts going off in both your helmets. Then you’re both scrambling to get your clothes on, gasping for air after you shove your helmets back on to breathe in clean, filtered air once you both tumbled out of the utility exit. You’re not sure where he put his codpiece or his gloves, but by the time he mounts the speeder behind you it’s like nothing has happened. It’s a little jarring. But you don’t have much time to dwell on it as you rev the engine and take off, using the shortcut just like you’d said.

The shortcut which ends with the bike hovering just outside the window to his office.

“This is your shortcut?!” You wince - the two of you are still on the same channel, but he’s yelling like you’re still both unable to hear each other over the wind. Fox lets out a frustrated sound that almost makes you shiver again, but it’s the cold from when he opens one of the windows with a control on his vanbrace. Paper and datapads go flying, and you wince. He sighs, clearly exasperated, and gives you a curt warning to ‘keep her steady.’

It’s terrifying to see him leap over the open air with such confidence, but one second he’s on the bike behind you, then he lands easily in his office. Well, mostly easily. He stumbles a bit. You can’t help but feel a small thrill of pride, wondering if you’ve reduced him to such a state. Shaking that thought off, you watch as the window starts to close, then wave your hand frantically at him.

“Don’t you want this back?” You tap at the underside of your helmet when he tilts his in confusion. A second passes and he shakes his head.

“Keep it.” He pauses. “Just - keep it between us.”

“Sure,” you say, grinning behind your helmet as you turn the bike towards the sector you live in. “It’ll be our little secret, Commander. See ya next week.”

“Yeah,” he says. And when you’re out of range, well out of range, is when he finally turns away from the window. Back in his office again, with his men, his brothers, in familiar territory. With a hollow pit of dread slowly opening up inside him, with fear and anger and frustration slowly crawling out of it. Fists clenched tightly at his sides, the Commander stalks to the door.

“Next week.”

[minijenn]

Keys to the Kingdom AU Master Post

Ok so now that Keys to the Kingdom has reached its first big Plot Twist that I had to keep hush hush about for over a year, I’m excited to finally be able to share everything we’ve been cooking up over on my Discord server (PM me if you want to join the chaos)! This includes a whoooooole bundle of Keys AUs, many of which hinge upon the Grandfather Twist, but some are AUs I’ve talked about/drawn for on here before. A lot of these are things I’ve written oneshots/commissions/ect. for, so I’ll be sharing those previously unreleased pieces too over the next few days. Either way, this post is your one stop shop for all things Keys AU related. Enjoy! (also spoilers ahead for anyone not caught up on Keys, obvs)

Family Ties AU: Instead of staying on the islands, Thalassa decides to leave the islands with Xehanort. Venturing out into the worlds shifts her worldview to one similar to his and eventually, she joins him in his schemes (though eventually, she starts developing plenty of evil schemes of her own, basically Thalassa is a villainess here and she’s one of the best parts of this AU cause she puts her dumbfuck husband to shame). Xehanort and Thalassa still have Tsuki, who they raise to follow in their footsteps and, once he’s older, basically kidnap Himari and force her to marry him. The pair has Sora, who is basically raised within the Organization here and is kind of a villain/anti-hero who goes through Character Development? Either way, this is definitely one of the most developed Keys AUs here, there’s a lot of Lore behind it, and a lot of differences in characters’ roles, like Roxas’, Xion’s, ect. You can learn more about Family Ties by checking out this somewhat semi-incomplete timeline of how it all goes down here. 

Trifecta AU: Instead of just Sora, Riku and Kairi are also slowly being corrupted by Xehanort’s darkness at the exact same time (as a way to ensure Sora falls in line mostly, he’s still the one Xehanort wants most but hey, two more vessels, why not?). Caught between fear and lies and pain, each of them hides the truth of their worsening conditions, failing to see just how much the others are suffering as they all slowly slip into the shadows. (Rage Form (Sora), Fear Form (Riku), Grief Form (Kairi)). I’ve actually talked about this one on here before, and I’ve drawn each of the trio’s “dark” forms, you can check those out here. 

Heir to Hatred AU: This is basically just Tangled but Keys Edition. Xehanort steals Sora away from his parents as a baby and raises him in isolation. He’s an abusive fuckhead about it though, and Sora longs to see more than the World that Never Was, which is where he’s lived all his life. Just so happens that Riku, who’s kind of a fugitive bc of working with Maleficent in the past, is on the run from the Guardians of Light, and happens to stumble upon the CTNW and finds Sora, helps him outta there, and the entire time they’re being chased by Kairi (a representative of the lights) who they win over, and Xehanort finds out his little shit grandson is gone and is pissed and chaos ensues. It’s a fun time (also the Heartless pet that died in Keys lives here! It basically fills the role of Pascal lol) 

Chains of Memory AU: Keys kicks off as usual but when Sora is norted, he loses all of his memories somehow. Xehanort immediately takes advantage of this and takes the kid in, immediately making the grandfather reveal and also lying to this amnesiac child that he’s meant to be with the Organization and that the lights tried to destroy his heart or something. Basically, its just Keys but if Sora was willingly in the Org. the entire time (Xehanort lies and tells him YX is hiis older brother and Ansem and Xemnas are his uncles). It’s a lot of Sora being absolutely sunshiney and oblivious, while the Org. is baffled by this kid they all hate slowly winning them all over, and also the lights fucking panicking because Sora doesn’t remember any of them and thinks he hates them all. Yay, angst!

Wayward Destiny AU: Upon returning to the guardians of light, Yen Sid proceeds to be a Shithead and does what Sora feared would happen to him if he went back, he locks this traumatized kid up, thinking Xehanort has already corrupted him too much and that he’s too far gone. Riku and Kairi, upon finding out, are pissed, and so they save Sora, take him, and run. Meanwhile, Yen Sid lies to the rest of the lights, making them think Sora has also “corrupted” Riku and Kairi and that the need to find all three of them; at the same time, these three dumb kids are trying to survive on their own while not being captured by the Org. and by the lights. An alternative title for this AU could be “Yen Sid is a Fucking Asshole AU” 

Survival AU: Tsuki survives Xehanort’s attempts at killing him by summoning his own Keyblade; he takes Sora and Himari and they flee the islands, hopping from world to world to get his son out of his father’s range. Throughout the years, Tsuki becomes very overprotective of Sora to the point of stifling him, and even refuses to teach him how to use his Keyblade after he summons one. Along the way, the family eventually joins up with the other Guardians of Light, though the events of Keys still happen and when they do, family drama abounds. I’ve actually written a oneshot about this one way back when, which you can read here. 

Brotherly Shove AU: Sora manages to talk Vanitas down from his attempts at killing him out of revenge, and they both decide to figure out Rage Form/Blight Form together. They bond along the way in the weeks that Sora is on the run from the lights, and eventually Vanitas gets to the point where he starts to care about Sora and strives to protect him from Xehanort and Maleficent alike. Because I just can’t get off my fucking high horse that Vanitas deserves a redemption arc, can I?

A Mother’s Love AU: When Sora briefly returns to the islands while on the run, he goes to see Himari, who’s heartbroken when she hears what’s happening to him. To the point that she actually follows him through the dark corridor he tries to leave through and ends up stranded on the run along with him. This eventually leads into her striking a bargain with Xehanort that leads to her heart falling into his hands, with her ending up norted as a result. Queue a whole bunch of mother/son drama that I wrote about in a short story I’ll be posting soon! 

Equivalent Exchange AU: Riku goes to Xehanort and challenges him to a duel; if he wins, then Sora will be set free. If he loses, then Riku will become Xehanort’s newest vessel in Sora’s stead. Riku loses, but Xehanort doesn’t set Sora free, and thus both boys are stuck in the Organization together. 

Destiny’s Embrace AU: Kairi goes to Xehanort and offers herself up as his vessel in Sora’s place; in this one, Xehanort tricks her and does NOT let Sora go, and both of them are trapped in the Organization together, trying to keep their love strong while Riku desperately searches for a way to save them both (basically Equivalent Exchange, Kairi Edition) 

Guardians of Darkness AU: The guardians of light lose to the Organization in the final showdown and as punishment for their “infidelity”, Xehanort forces every last one of them to join the Organization, each of them essentially serving as personal slaves to the other members. 

Dearly Beloved AU: In the aftermath of claiming his thirteenth vessel, Xehanort invites the guardians of light to a “celebration” where he forces Sora to “propose” to Kairi. In the weeks leading up to this mysterious wedding, the lights try to scramble to free Sora and Kairi from this situation, while also trying to figure out why Xehanort is so keen on seeing a “union between pure light and pure darkness” take place. (kind of a dead AU, Family Ties absorbed it)

And those are basically all of the big/named ones! Some of these are def more talked about/developed than others, but if you’re curious about any of these, then please don’t hesitate to ask! I’ll be sharing art and drabbles that I’ve written for the Keys AUs over the next several days, so keep your eyes peeled for that!

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One.

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of wtsgd! i’m so excited for you all to read this story and for what’s to come. please please please support content creators bc we’re doing this for free and it takes up a lot of energy to put out stories. so reblog, leave feedback, and send a message to motivate and support them. happy reading everyone <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 6.4k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 4, 2017

The trunk was filled with heavy boxes that were labeled with thick black sharpie, which didn’t seem to leave Luciana’s senses; and one too many suitcases filled with her many articles of clothing that she couldn’t get rid of—no matter how hard she tried—since she was too much of a hoarder and every piece of clothing seemed to have a lost memory in them that she tried very hard to think of, which only meant that it was worth keeping. 

A droplet of sweat leaked down the side of her face due to  her nonstop packing and heavy-lifting from her childhood room upstairs to her dad’s car in the driveway. It didn’t help that the sun was beaming down at her with every move like she was on center stage, in front of the spotlight, but it made much more sense for the sun to do that because that’s where she belonged: on stage. 

Moving to Brooklyn, New York from Cambridge, Massachusetts during, what felt like, the coldest but the sunniest day of March wasn’t the smartest move—to be fair, Luciana was never one to make a smart move, anyways—but it was one that needed to be done. Plus, all the lifting seemed to have warmed her up. 

Her destination, or now, home, in New York was one that she’d been anticipating for a while now. She had auditioned for the role as Kim in Miss Saigon on Broadway in November, and she’d gotten a callback in January for the role as the second Kim, meaning she would be on rotation to perform every week or two weeks, so the main Kim could rest. But she would still have to go to rehearsals and be on the side of the stage watching the show just in case she needed to jump in at the last minute. 

It wasn’t her ideal way of playing the main lead, but nonetheless, she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would take any chance that was thrown at her to not only take another step towards her dream, but also another learning opportunity to make her a better actress. 

Little Luci would’ve been so proud of the present Luci because it’d been her dream ever since she was younger, to be on stage and eventually, be on the big screen. Although she was far from completing her dream of being a face in Hollywood, this was a step that would take her to where she wanted to be in the future, and for that, she was proud of herself. 

As a child, Luci had been in various commercials; from being the kid that played with slime and had no lines but to just put on a big smile while the sticky substance ran through her small hands, to being the daughter in a car commercial with one line that said “Are we there yet?” with a groan and a face of exhaustion as if she were the one driving the car. She hoped that these commercials would have someone recognize her talent, to cast her as a Disney star, but that would require moving to California, which her parents were wary of. 

The commercials stopped when she reached middle school. Her early adolescent years consisted of an abundance of attitude and mood swings; Luci was a very tough and determined kid. Her love for acting had grown into a big balloon that was let go and on its way into the galaxy where no one could reach it—where no one could mess with her achieving her dream. 

She would always stand in front of her white wooden framed mirror—with delicately painted colorful flowers around the border—reciting lines that she heard from a television series or the films that she watched, and she would write them down in her blue notebook. Sometimes, her parents would let her search the script up if it was available online. But oftentimes, she would test and challenge her memorization, and listen to it by ear; testing her mind, and eventually, her memorization skills were immaculate by the age of eleven. 

It was perfect timing because by the time she was in middle school, she was able to snatch the roles she wanted when her school’s drama department held school plays. Her family thought that she would start to hate being on stage since school plays always ran until late evening, but being part of the productions had only enhanced her love for her talent, and it only prepared her for a quarter of what her future may look like. 

All in all, from a very young age, she always knew that she wanted to become an actress. The spotlight or the center of the camera was where she always craved to be. 

And she was finally making that dream come true. 

A black Toyota Camry pulled into the space behind the car that was filled with her belongings. Ren and Beatrice, Luci’s lovely parents, both get out of the car with a pink box of donuts—a snack for the road and for when she gets to her new apartment. 

“Ready, Lucky?” Beatrice asked, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was quite bummed to see Luci leave her childhood home, but she’s proud to see Lucky Luci chase her dreams. She was, after all, twenty-five and was bound to move out at some point, but to see it actually happen made Beatrice quite emotional. 

“Ma, please, don’t cry…” Luci frowned as Beatrice pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder, comforting her. “You’re all coming to New York in a month, right? To watch me on stage?” Luci asked, reassuring herself that she would see her family in a different state to rescue her from her loneliness. 

Luci was an independent woman. She could do tasks by herself, go places alone, and she wouldn’t have a problem with it; she enjoyed the company of herself. But to know that at some point she might be alone—that everyone had left her behind or forgotten about her—was what scared her. She needed to know that the people who loved her unconditionally wouldn’t forget about her. 

“Of course we’re going!” Ren exclaimed with a smile that Luci was going to miss seeing everyday. “We can’t miss our baby on the Broadway stage. If we could, we’d go to every damn show that you’re in, but that would be a lot of gas, no?” 

She chuckled, nodding her head. She felt tears pricking her eyes at how supportive her parents were—they’ve always been. If she could, she would take them with her to New York, but her one bedroom apartment and their work said otherwise. 

“Now, Lucky, don’t cry.” It was Beatrice’s turn to comfort her daughter. Like any parent, when they see their child cry, it breaks their heart and they cry too. “We’re gonna see you real soon. You can always come back anytime you want. We’re just a phone call away and we’ll pick you up,” Beatrice said between sniffles. The mother and daughter were embracing so tenderly and comfortingly—enjoying every last moment together until they got to see each other again. 

“Jeez, you’re both the same—always crying!” Ren interrupted, making the two women laugh; and he was glad they found what he said amusing because he couldn’t handle the sad moment. “C’mon here, my Lulu.” Luci settled into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. She’s always been her dad’s girl, despite having a close relationship with her mother, her relationship with her father was something that felt like home; he always knew what to say and when to say it. It helped that she was the female version of him. “You’re gonna be the best star out there, I’m sure of it. Now, I want you to have fun, alright? The fame, the fortune, the big city…it doesn’t amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life” He comfortingly rubbed Luci’s back, holding her in a warm and tight squeeze. 

Luci smiled at her father’s words. She was always a bit hard on herself when she would mess up or forget a line or a movement that correlates to a specific line in her script. When she was younger, she would beat herself up for a sliver of a moment; she would cry into her pillow—sobs loud enough that they were heard from downstairs. Luci would think that she wouldn’t become a well-known actress just because of the minor forgetfulness her mind had presented. But Ren would gently tap on her ocean blue door, letting himself in because he knew his daughter didn’t have the energy to get up and let him in, and he would sit beside her, gently urging her to sit up with him. Once she complied, after many groans of refusals, she would be glad she did because her father looked deeply into her eyes—and it was like looking into the reflection of clear and clean water—and told her she was a star. It was only three words, but those three words reminded her to never give up and get up when she would hit the pavement of what she felt like were her fallen hopes and dreams. 

Ren would then end it with a statement of advice that had always lingered in her mind, resonating to the silent and harshful words that she tells herself. ‘Nothing will amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life.’

A rush of gratitude settled upon her as her eyes became glossier by the seconds she was in Ren’s arms. Beatrice looked at her greatest treasures fondly, a smile appeared on her face only for it to be replaced by a look of confusion. 

“Where is that damn brother of yours? He said he was going to be here at ten!” Beatrice interrupted the sweet moment she was having with her father, making them disconnect from the hug—just as Ren did with Luci and Beatrice.  

Speaking of the devil, her dear brother was making his way towards home on the side of the street, wearing a grey sweatshirt that was stained with his sweat as his earphones were nestled in his ears, loudly playing music. He loudly sang along to some rap song, breath staggered as he rapped along with his hands. 

Nathan smiled once he stepped foot onto the driveway as he took out his earphones, seeing his family look at him vigilantly. Luci laughed, shaking her head. 

“Hey, there’s our superstar, little Ana!” Nathan opened his arms, ready to hug you but she quickly stopped him, curving her spine backwards to deny his hug. Ana had been one of the many nicknames her family had called her when she was growing up from the second half of her name, but Ana seemed to have stuck with Nathan as no one else really called her that, so it was his own personal nickname for her. 

“Ew, please, do not hug me.” Her face wrinkled in disgust from the spell of her brother’s sweat from his run. Nathan chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes before turning towards his parents. 

“Ooh, donuts-”

Beatrice slapped the back of his hand before he even got a chance to open the pink donut box. “Not until you shower and change. Lulu needs to be in Brooklyn by three!” 

“Ow, mother!” Nathan whipped his hand away from Beatrice’s burning slap, although he was just playing around and being dramatic. “But fine, alright. The star always gets what she wants, am I right?” He dropped his head towards Luci, sighing before he hurried inside the house to take a quick shower and change. 

Luci giggled, telling her parents that she would be right back to go up to her room to check if she’d gotten everything, even though she knew that she had everything, she just needed to reminisce alone for a moment. 

Her feet took her up the wooden stairs, where she, for some unknown reason, always spent her time sitting on as she leaned her back against the wall and read or drew. Nathan always found it weird of her when they were doing homework when they were younger, but it was just one of the many fun anecdotes he could tell reporters if he’s asked about their childhood. 

Pushing open her ocean blue door that she never changed because she loved the color, she was met with the emptiness of what was once her sanctuary. Despite the paint on the wall changing, the replacement of furniture, and rearrangement of her childhood room, Luci could still see the baby pink walls where she hung up various posters of her celebrity crushes when she was eight. She could still see herself walking over to her Cinderella white wooden dresser as she pulled out an inflatable microphone from her drawer before she walked over to her bed to sing her heart out with her cousin. In the corner of her room was her mirror that she painted colorful flowers along the border when she was younger, and she definitely did not want to change or get rid of it; it wasn’t difficult to stir up a memory when she was in front of that mirror because up until now, she was always reciting her lines to her own reflection until the late night. 

All of these memories that Luci held within her heart would help her ground herself—remind her where she came from. No matter where her career took her, she would always be the girl that was firstly known in her room, crying, laughing, and acting within the four baby pink walls until she was sixteen, and then it changed to an ecru white. The feeling of nostalgia clutched her chest, and for the second time today—not even noon, yet—she found herself crying. 

She silently sobbed in her sanctuary. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was grasping onto the memories, begging her to not leave, to not move on. But moving on would mean being stuck, and she didn’t want to feel stuck—she just never wanted to be in one place where the walls would slowly feel like they were closing in on her. She didn’t want to be in one place and eventually hated it, so for that, she had to move on. 

A soft knock was heard from the outside of her bedroom, making Luci turn around hastily. She found Beatrice standing in the doorway, warmly smiling at her daughter, and keeping the tears at bay because she needed the comfort of her mother more than her mother’s tears. 

“My Lucky Star…” Beatrice walked into the room, welcoming Luci into her arms. “You okay?” 

Luci deeply inhaled and exhaled as she calmed herself down from her cries. “I’m alright. It’s just hard saying goodbye to this place—to my room.”’

“Oh, Lulu. You don’t need to say goodbye. I know you’ll be coming back here soon, anyways. I know you love home too much to completely stay away.” Beatrice was subtly trying to remind Luci about her love for her hometown, for her home, but her words also were trying to remind her about that certain love for her home and to never forget that love so she doesn’t stray away because Beatrice was simply afraid Luci would never want to come back once she discovered the luxury of her career. And even though she knew her Lulu wasn’t one to forget about her family, Beatrice would never admit her fear. 

Luci sniffled, wiping her tears away as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Yeah, I know. Just…doesn’t feel real that I’m leaving.” 

“Sure, you’re leaving, but you’re going off to do bigger and better things. You were never one to stay in one place, physically and mentally—you were always moving, always loved learning more. And I’ve always been so intrigued and interested in how your mind works.” 

“Ma…” The waterworks seemed to be the highlight of the move. 

“I’m serious! I’m so genuinely proud of you. You’ve been keeping your talent—and I don’t mean ‘high school plays’ talent. I mean your Broadway, Hollywood, Academy winning talent. Now, you get to showcase your light in front of thousands of people.” Beatrice always had a way of boosting Luci’s self-esteem, making her ego a tad bit more bigger than it already was. She didn’t mind if her self-esteem had skyrocketed into the galaxy of her dreams, but she always reminded Luci that being humble and kind always outweighed being obnoxious and arrogant. “Now, enough with these tears. You’ve got a road trip to New York. C’mon, now.” 

They made their way downstairs and out the door where Ren and Nathan were talking about the latest basketball game of the Celtics. The trunk was closed, and the only thing waiting was Luci herself. 

“There she is! Ready?” 

Luci took a deep breath, turning her head to look back at the pastel yellow house that had kept her safe for the past twenty-five years. From here, she knew everything was going to change. Whether it’d be for the good or if things would go downhill from here? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she was going to be doing what she loved and she was going to have the time of her life doing it. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

The state of Connecticut seemed to pass by quickly from the car as Nathan drove at a decent seventy miles per hour; the state vanished just as quickly as when they entered. 

Luci mindlessly looked out the window, thinking about everything and nothing at once as she drowned out the music playing through the speakers of the car and Nathan’s voice singing along. 

The cars passing by, the bystanders, and the locals filled the streets and highways, making her wonder what all of these people’s stories were—wondering if they lived in this city or if they were just stopping by to visit, or if they’re just going through the state to get to the one next door just as she was. Maybe she’s had an encounter or simply passed by them on the street in a world that seemed too large but small at the same time. She always pondered on whether everyone else thought the way she thought—if they wondered what her story was or the people around them. 

The world is an interesting place and there were so many intriguing people out there, making her more excited by the minute as she takes on this new adventure in her life that would be completely life changing. Luci’s going to be meeting so many new people that, she would hope, have an impact on her personal life or career. 

“Nervous?” Nathan broke the comfortable silence between them. 

Luci raised her brows and curled her lips into her mouth. “A bit.” 

He nodded, thinking for a moment. Nathan was always one to think before he spoke, and it was a quality that some people needed to learn how to do. He quickly learned that lesson when he was in high school; one of his friends, Johnny, and him were going back and forth joking around with one another. And for some odd reason, teenage boys liked to joke around about fucking everything, so Nathan had said “Yeah, I fucked your mom, what about it?” without thinking. Johnny stayed silent, the rest of their friends were waiting for his comeback, but they only received tears that glossed over his eyes before he ran off to a different part of campus, away from the lunch tables. Nathan found him behind the orchestra building with his face pressed on his kneecaps, crying. Later, he found out that Johnny’s mother had passed away before their sophomore year started and he hadn’t told anyone, which left Nathan quite speechless, but it was a lesson that he learned: to think before anything comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you’ll do great. You were born to do this, born to be on stage. Everything you do is to greater your experience and opportunities. All the mistakes you’re gonna make, which we both know you’re gonna make, they’re gonna be learning lessons for you to continue doing what you’re good at doing; the mistakes are there so you can better yourself,” he reassured, occasionally glancing at you briefly before averting his eyes back onto the highway. 

Luci smiled, never taking her eyes off her older brother. She leaned closer to the middle console, where his right arm was resting on the padded console. Hugging his arm tightly and resting her cheek on his shoulder, she accepted and appreciated his advice, his words. They made her heart fill up with so much gratitude and love, insanely grateful and happy that she had such an amazing and supportive family who always knew the right things to say when they could sense her nerves and anxieties powering through the roof. 

“You’re gonna kill it out there. This is just a step towards where you wanna go, where you actually wanna be.” 

She nodded, looking to her right as they quickly passed the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign from the state line of Connecticut and New York, and it was the sign indicating her new home. 

Nathan pulled into the apartment’s parking garage, entering in with the code that the complex gave Luci on the silver keypad as the two watched the automatic gate arm swing up to the side, and Nathan entered the parking structure, parking in one of the many spaces available. 

Luci excitedly got out of the car, rushing to the trunk where Nathan had opened it from inside the car. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to bring the hand dolly to help carry the boxes, which meant that the siblings were going to have to carry the many boxes she packed by her own hand and strength. But luckily, some of them weren’t that heavy; most of the items in the brown boxes were kitchenware and she figured she could just drag those. 

One by one, they took one box each and headed for the elevator, where it took them to her apartment floor—floor four. Luci grabbed the keys from her purse that contained two copper keys hanging on one single silver loop and a small keyless sensor, and she unlocked her navy blue door, revealing her new apartment. 

When she entered, she was met with a door across the entrance that she would use for her coats and shoes, things that she would need when she’s rushing out the door. Going through the small hallway in from the entrance, it led her to another small hallway to her left where her bedroom and guest bathroom was; and to her right, it would take her to the kitchen and living space. With four big windows with black window frames, the natural light really came in, making her place brighter for saving electricity. 

Walking in and putting the boxes against the black cabinets in the kitchen, she immediately fell in love with the space, her space. Despite already taking a tour of the apartment a few months prior to her official move in day, it felt different being there for the second time because she now knew that this place was hers. She saw it in a different light, and she was already anticipating the memories she was going to make in her new home. The place was empty; and with every step and every noise from her mouth, the room would echo, and she loved it. There was something satisfying about the echo in an empty space that was hers, like she wanted to furnish the hell out of it, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the echo. 

“This is your new home.” Nathan put an arm around Luci’s shoulder. He got a bit emotional seeing his baby sister grow up and move away from home, but he was excited for all of the experiences and memories she was going to make. Luci looked up at him, not saying anything but smiling as she was speechless. Nathan could practically feel the excitement run through her and all he did was chuckle at her speechlessness. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of the boxes.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Luci and Nathan hauled the boxes from the car, to the elevator, and down the hallway to her apartment. There were about four more boxes left in the trunk, and they would’ve been finished by now if they hadn’t been taking breaks. 

Nathan’s phone rang as he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets of the kitchen across from Luci who was sitting in the corner where her dining table would be. 

“Hello?” Answered Nathan. “What? Tonight? I’m in New York. I’m helping my little sister move here. Uh, okay. Sure. Bye.” He groaned, standing up. 

“Who was that?” Luci asked, nosy as she was. 

“That was one of the board members at Mass General Hospital.” Luci’s eyes widened. “They just asked me if I could come in tonight to teach and supervise the new residents.” Nathan was a general doctor working in the Emergency Room as Mass General back in Boston. He’s always wanted to teach with all the knowledge he’s stored in his brain—always wanting someone to learn a thing or two when they spoke to him, and this was his chance. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Nate!” Luci stood up, excited for him.

He started to breathe a bit heavily and Luci immediately took notice; she could practically feel the nerves coming out of him, the same nerves she felt while going in for an audition. “Yeah, I actually have to leave, like, right now.” 

“Hey, hey.” She quickly stopped him from running out of the building and out of his mind. “Come here—breathe with me for a second.” She held onto his wrists gently. 

“Luci, I have to-”

He pulled away, but she tugged him back. “You’re going to drive yourself through the highway, and who knows what will happen, you might get pulled over and you won’t make it to the hospital. So, just take sixty seconds to breathe with me.” 

For the remainder of the time that they had together, they took some deep breaths. She spoke encouraging and uplifting words to him to calm down his nerves and anxieties that he seemed to drive himself over a cliff for, and it seemed to work as Nathan’s shoulder’s weren’t so tense and the grip on her hands had loosened. 

The two of them walked down to the parking garage where Nathan took down the last four boxes and placed them by the entrance of the complex. He was adamant on helping her get the last few boxes up to her apartment, but she shrugged it off, telling him that she was able to carry them and that he needed to leave because he’s most likely going to hit traffic during rush hour. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. I will drive here in a heartbeat.” 

“I will, I will-”

“Just not tonight,” he joked. “This is the highlight of my career.” His smile was so bright that it was like he was a little kid on Christmas again who just received a Hot Speed set from Santa. 

Luci laughed, hugging him goodbye. “And call me if you need anything too. I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” she admitted, a slight frown on her face. She thought she’d have the entire day with Nathan, but it was cut short due to his work but she wasn’t mad about that at all because she knew there'd be plenty of times when he would drive down to walk along the New York streets and see her perform. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Ana. But I love you and I’ll see you next month!” He hurried into his car, and Luci watched him as he pulled out of the driveway, waving at the rear view mirror to say one last ‘see you later’ to his little sister. 

Walking back to the curb where all of the boxes were set, Luci picked one up to test how heavy it was and she barely made it upright without almost hurting her back, so she put the box down to take a proper breather. She decided to drag the box closer to the door of the complex—which saved her a few steps without completely dropping the box that was labeled ‘glass plates’—and pulled the handle of the door, only to find it completely locked. There was a slight panic that flew through her until she realized that she needed her keyless tag that she had to press against the pad on the wall to get inside the complex, so she blew out a sigh of relief before reaching down to her pocket for her key, and with just her luck, her keys weren’t in her pocket or with her at all. Then she started to panic again. 

Luci quickly walked out of the parking garage and to the front of the building where the leasing office was to find them closed, which was odd because it was Saturday, but apparently their servers were down so they just decided to take the entire day off. She rolled her eyes annoyingly, walking back to the garage in a fast manner because she didn’t want anyone to take her boxes, and so she figured that she could just wait until someone left the complex or arrived. She even left her phone at her place, so it wasn’t like she could call anyone to help her, but some sort of entertainment would help the time go by quicker. 

Sitting on the curb in the garage, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and humming the melody from the Miss Saigon soundtrack, an hour goes by until she sees someone walk past the automatic gate barrier, heading towards the entrance where he opened the door with his tag. Luci sprinted towards the door, calling out for help. 

“Wait, wait!” The man turned around confusingly, taking his AirPod out of one ear. She caught up, taking deep breaths as she waved at the man. “Sorry, I’ve been out here for an hour and I completely forgot my key.” He didn’t say anything but stared at her, wondering why he’s never seen this woman before. The apartment complex really only had four floors, and he’s sure that he’s seen everyone who’s lived here. She noticed that he looked down at the boxes and back at her. “Oh, I just moved in.” He nodded more understandingly. “Do you mind holding the door for me?” 

“Sure.” Was the first thing he told her before stepping aside to hold the door. She took another deep breath, getting into the correct form so she doesn’t throw her back out, and began to lift the heavy box. He noticed her struggling, and he felt foolish for not offering his help in the first place when he noticed the four boxes on the cement. “Here, sorry, let me help with that. Get the door, yeah?” Luci’s heart flipped once she heard his deep, accented voice before she gratefully thanked him and he grabbed the box from her, replacing her hands with his and the slightest brush of their fingers made her flustered; he held the box tightly to his chest without much struggle. 

“Yeah, let me just get this one.” Luci grabbed a much lighter box that had all of her shoes, and held the door for him with her foot as he made his way inside of the building and to the elevator. He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, and luckily, they didn’t have to wait for more than five seconds before the bell at the top chimed and the stainless steel doors opened. 

With the heavy box in his hands, he still let Luci walk in first, which made her smile and he followed in as she pressed with the bold ‘4’ printed on it. He held the box in between his chest and the other end of the bar on the wall as they waited in silence as the elevator lifted them up to her apartment floor, and she brushed past him when he lifted his arm, gesturing her to go first. 

Her front door was closed but it was unlocked, which only made sense, so she opened her door, putting the box next to the entrance and politely asking the man to put it next to the one you put down. 

“Thank you so much, really. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.” 

“It’s no problem. I was the same when I moved here too—forgot my keys and was locked out.” He related to make her feel lighter about the situation since it was an honest mishap. 

“Did you go to the leasing office?” She asked curiously. 

“Yeah, but they were closed.” 

“They’re closed today too! It’s like they do that on purpose whenever someone new moves in.” The man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him since she was too distracted by trying to get into her building, but just by one real look at him, he was very attractive—probably too attractive to where she couldn’t think straight. He was wearing a pastel yellow and white striped button down that was a bit flowy and open, showing his white tank underneath that was tucked into his black skinny jeans. His tank top was low enough, exposing a patch of chest hair and his necklace that rested against his skin, in between his swallow tattoos just below his collarbones. Rings hugged his long fingers on both hands as he held two brown paper bags from Trader Joes. He was handsome, that’s for sure, and she felt like she was going to compare his beauty to all the other men that she was going to encounter in the future. 

“They’re not very good at going into work, but if you give them a call then it’s like they’re a 24/7 help center.” 

Luci nodded, chuckling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’ll help you with the last boxes.” Before she was about to protest and tell him that he didn’t have to help her anymore because she was sure the last ones were light, he made his way towards the elevator and she quickly followed. 

To her surprise, one of the boxes was heavier than the other and she was glad that the man was able to carry it for her. They took the boxes up to her apartment, stacking it on top of the ones that were set down before she thanked him gratefully again. 

“I really appreciate all your help.” She smiled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Not that I’m doubting your strength or anything, but how were you supposed to get those boxes up to your apartment?” He asked softly, not wanting to offend her by his words. 

“Oh, my brother was supposed to help me, but he had to go back home for an emergency at work.” The man nodded, seeming that was the most acceptable answer, not like he was searching if she was lying. “But thank you for your help. You’re a true lifesaver,” she said with a soft smile on her face. Her tone was a bit flirty than she wanted it to be, but it naturally came out. 

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you around.” Luci hadn’t closed her door yet, but she found out that he was literally her neighbor on the opposite side of the wall. He didn’t even have to take two steps to get to his place—all he had to do was turn around and he was home. She smiled at the thought of that, glad that her neighbor was already so kind to her. 

As he was fumbling with his keys, he eventually got his door unlocked, and Luci was itching to ask what his name was—maybe make her first friend during her first day living in the big city. The man felt his neighbor's eyes on him, burning through the back of his head, so he turned around at the same time she spoke. 

“Uh, hey,” Luci called out. He was looking over his shoulder, pursing his lips as he raised his brows. “I was wondering if…you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Y’know, to thank you for all your help and practically saving me while I was stranded.” She chuckled, playing with the tips of her fingers as she looked at him with hope. 

He thought the invitation was nice, but…“It’s okay, really. I, uh, have plans already tonight,” he admitted honestly because he doesn’t make a habit of being dishonest. 

Luci had some thick skin—she grew it throughout the years, and she had always been pretty confident. So many people would think that she could handle rejection well because she’s auditioned for many roles in her lifetime, and had been rejected for most of those roles. But the rejection that her neighbor handed to her so respectfully and politely was one that hit her the most, and she didn't know why. 

Curling her lips into her mouth as she felt the pang of her heart sinking into her chest, she nodded and placed a small smile onto her face. 

“Have fun tonight, then. I’ll see you around.” She grinned, hiding the slight bit of pain that she felt. He nodded, walking inside his apartment as she was in her doorway as well. “Oh, I’m Luci, by the way.” She introduced herself, feeling like she should have done that ten minutes ago, but it had slipped her mind. 

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk, and she nearly felt herself fall as she gripped the door handle tightly. It was enough to make the pain in her chest disappear, and all thoughts of the rejection that she would think about for the rest of the night vanished. 

“Nice to meet you, Luci. I’m Harry.” 

With that, Harry closed his door, putting a barrier between him and Luci, who was still standing in her doorway. She let out the longest sigh of her life, feeling like she’d been constricting herself from breathing properly for the last ten minutes. 

Luci closed her door and leaned against it, looking down at the boxes that were resting by her feet. She softly smiled, her cheeks were starting to get warm, and she was fully aware that Harry was the cause of it.

come talk to me about your thoughts and feelings! hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, thank you for reading <3 

ty to @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading!

[scrodigners-spellingbee]

Demon slayer!Naruto au idea

Naruto

Backstory: Naruto would be the son of the last sun user (Minato) and a demon who didn't eat humans/didn't burn up in the sun (Kushina Uzumaki), who was taken to Hiruzen Sarutobi's Hashira estate to be raised after both parents die. The identity of his parents would be kept secret in order to stop Muzan from targeting him. He would be raised along side other orphans with Hiruzen being away on missions often, and act out in order to gain attention. In one instance, he covered statues of past Hashira's in paint. Iruka, a demon slayer and teacher of the orphans, would be one of the only in the estate to show him affection, with others scared of him bc he's half demon (a fact hidden from him).

Goal: Og goal would be to be a Hashira. Later on he'd want to save Sasuke.

Story: He would become a demon slayer and often team up with Sakura and Sasuke, forming a bond with them. After Sasuke became a demon he would be motivated to both return him to the Demon Slayer corp and cure him. He would have an ongoing ark of dealing with his demonic nature and how it took over in fits of rage.

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Sakura

Backstory: Civilian upbringing. Would be aware of demon slayer corp bc they saved her/parents and actively make an effort to join. She would eventually find her way to the same Hashira Estate as Naruto and continue her training there before completing the final selection.

Goal: To save people like she was. Sasuke, I guess?

Story: Would team up with Naruto/Sasuke forming a bond with them. She would have to overcome her doubts about herself and at some point becoming the Tsuguko of Tsunade. After Sasuke became a demon she would help try to return him to the Demon Slayer corp and develop a cure to help him.

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Sasuke

Backstory: Born into a clan of demon slayers that can be traced back to the time of Muzan. One day, his brother willing turned into a demon and slaughtered their clan. He was then taken to Hiruzen's estate where he gained many admirers but connected with no-one.

Goal: To slay itachi.

Story: Would team up with Naruto/Sakura forming a bond with them. However, Sasuke could not defeat his brother when he was sent to retrieve Naruto for Muzan, so he decided to become a demon for greater power. He was turned by Orochimaru instead of Muzan and is able to fend off the need for human flesh.

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The Akatsuki

The Akatsuki would fill the role of the upper moons. The inspiration of this post comes from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vpCG0B8W6E I have some ideas for them but can't be bothered to type them up at the moment, might in another post

[enderspawn]

It's alright if u don't wanna answer this cuz this argument gets people really riled up but do you think c!Techno is a tyrant or nah?

Cuz many c!techno apologists argue that he isn't just cuz he's an anarchist but I've also read a lot of essays that go against it and it'd be really interesting to see ur opinion on this

i think he, in some contexts, can most definitely be called tyrannical, yes. a tyrant? no.

to avoid spamming ppl w discourse we've all def heard before (and bc this ended up MASSIVE (like 2.3k ish), but fairly in depth bc i didnt wanna speak out of bad faith and wanted to be EXPLICTLY clear-- oops), the rest will be under readmore

so heres the thing i want to preface: i used to really LOVE c!techno. i joined beginning of s2, right when exile started, and he was arguably my favorite character. since then though i've fallen out with him a LOT, to the point i almost... actively despite him at times (though mainly in a toxic kind of way which i can acknowledge is flawed).

in short, his actions started to speak louder than his words and i lost investment in his personal character struggles because of the actions he took (doomsday was my breaking point. i get feeling angry and betrayed, as well as seeking revenge against lmanberg, but his actions went too far for me to CARE and it hurt so many more characters as well.)

so when i speak, i come from a place of disliking him but also somewhat understanding the position c!techno apologists come from: i used to be one of them myself.

NOW, do i think he's a tyrant? no. for reference in my analysis, i try to look up the definition of terms to make sure they are utilized properly. while "tyranny" and "tyrannical" can have multiple uses, tyrant itself is a more specific term. to combine the top two definitions, a tyrant is referring to "an extremely oppressive, unjust, or cruel absolute ruler (who governs without restrictions, especially one who seized power illegally.)"

techno's position as an anarchist, imo, DOES indeed make him unable to be a tyrant. tyrants are rulers with very clear power over others from a structural way. anarchists are about the lack of structure or power over others and instead viewing the people around you as equals in power.

in forming the syndicate, they very explicitly worked to not designate a leader and instead make it so that no one would have any power over the others systemically. techno may have taken a integral role, yes, but it doesn't make him suddenly "the leader", its a role that wouldve had to be filled by someone (even if it was democratic to decide who to invite, they'd need someone to hand over the invite itself yknow? like no matter WHAT there needed to be A ROLE)

one could argue that he IS a leader in the shadow hierarchy of the syndicate (which, yes, is a real and professional term used in management courses despite sounding like it comes from a 4kids yugioh dub) in that everyone CONSIDERS and looks to him a leader without him having any actual structural basis behind it, but to argue that allows him to be a tyrant is in bad faith i believe. especially because to the people he would be "ruling", he ISNT oppressive, unjust, or cruel. they are his friends and support network and critical for a lot of his personal development (since feelings of betrayal and trust issues are critical to his character and why he acts the way he does). I wish we were able to SEE this develop more, but oh well.

but like i said: tyrant is fairly specific in definition. TYRANNY, and thus TYRANNICAL are not as limited. I've discussed their definitions here. originally, i made that post because i was angry at a take i had seen that claimed that, like you said, because techno was an anarchist and not part of any government or leadership position, he couldn't be tyrannical. to which i heartily disagree.

for something to be tyrannical, they simply must have an overarching/oppressive power over someone or something. it would not be inaccurate if i were to say that something is "under the tyranny" of a concept, because what it means is that something is under the power of another thing/concept. you can frankly call anything tyranny if it is widespread/overarching and you don't like it. mask mandates? tyranny, its forcing me to act in "rigorous condition". hell, theres even such things as tyranny of the majority in which people agree too much on one thing and it gives them unfair power or tyranny of the minority where people with minority opinions have too much power (thats a very grossly oversimplified definition of both, but it covers the base idea well enough for my point)

the point im making above isnt meant to be taken as "anything can be worked to be defined as tyranny thus it is a meaningless claim", it is that tyranny (and again, thus tyrannical) are very open and nonrestrictive terms.

to make it easier to define, alongside the definitions provided i want to add an explicit clause that is (imo) implied in the original definition: tyranny is... well, bad. that is to say if someone has power over a group but literally everyone is fine with it and agrees to it, its not tyranny. thats just a group of people getting along and one happens to have power over another. a leader does NOT equal a tyrant (as discussed above), so leadership should not be equated with tyranny.

thus as an example: wilbur acting as president (before the election) may have been "unelected" with power over his citizens, but no one was upset with that power. thus, he is not a tyrant and not acting tyrannically (as well as the fact his power was, arguably, NOT rigourous or absolute but thats another topic for another time). SCHLATT however IS a tyrant, as his power was absolute (he did not consult his cabinet) and forced people to comply instead of them complying willingly, thus he was acting tyrannically.

now to finally get to the damn point of this essay: where does c!techno lie? honest answer? it depends slightly on your perspective, but it depends a LOT on the future of the syndicate.

techno is incredibly clear in his goals: no governments, no corruption. in fighting with pogtopia, he is actively working to topple a tyranny-- he isn't tyrannical for doing that.

when he strikes out on nov 16th, it is because he opposes them forming a new government. when they oppose him and disagree, he launches an attack against them. is this tyranny? maybe, but probably not. he IS trying to impose his own physical strength and power (as well as his resources) over the others to stop them from doing what HE doesn't want them to do.

however its more nuanced than that:

1. hes lashing out emotionally as well as politically. he feels betrayed by those he trusted and he believed that they would destroy the government then go (i'm ignoring any debates on if he did or did not know that they planned another government, though it is a source of debate). but typically idk about you but i dont call tyranny for someone fighting with another person.

2. he also may be acting with good intent again, in HIS EYES. if tubbo was part of manburg, whos to say he wont be just as bad? he, in his pov, is likely trying to stop another tyrant before they rise.

3. and finally, and tbh the most damning from any perspective: he gives up. he quickly leaves then RETIRES without intent to try and attack again until he is later provoked. tyranny is defined by it not just being power, but power being USED. if he doesn't use his power to try and impose any will, then he's not tyrannical.

Doomsday I am also not going to touch very in depth on for much of the same reasons. My answer is again a "maybe", depending on the weight you personally place on each issue:

1. he's lashing out as revenge for the butcher army and as revenge against tommy for "betraying" him (though this one we explicitly know he was ignoring the fact tommy did not want to go through with it, however he still did trust and respect tommy regardless so his feelings are understandable anyway)

2. he sees new lmanberg as corrupt and tyrannical (which is undeniable: house arrest for noncompliance, exile without counsel, execution without trial, etc), and thus obligated to destroy it

but also, theres the implicit understanding he's doing this to send a message: do not form a government, or else. its a display of force that also works to warn others unless they want a similar fate. phil even explicitly states that he is doing so to send that message, so one could assume techno is doing the same alongside his personal reasoning listed above.

what i just described is the use of a oppressive and harsh (physical) power in order to gain compliance from people (that compliance being 'not making a government'). does that sound familiar? exactly. it follows the definition(s) of tyranny given previously. technoblade is acting in a way that is, by very definition, tyrannical.

so the debate shifts: is he valid in doing so because he is trying to PREVENT corruption and tyranny. like i said, new lmanberg was undeniably corrupt at points. i held nothing against techno for trying to topple manburg, so does that apply to new lmanberg as well? short answer: i dont know. it depends on your specific opinion of what is acceptable. its like the paradox of tolerance: to have a truly tolerant society, you have to be intolerant of intolerance. to have a truly non-tyrannical society, do you need to have a tyranny enforcing it?

personally (and bc im a lmanberg loyalist /hj) i say it is. regardless of the corruption of new lmanberg, they are also giving a threat to EVERYONE. even those who are innocent, they are presented with the exact same threat and rule set: if you make a government, you will be destroyed.

(which, small divergence here, is part of why debating c!techno is so frustrating. so many times you end up hitting a "well it depends on your political views" situation and there ISNT a correct answer there. im here to analyze characters for fun, not debate political theory)

so: the syndicate then. this is where this debate really "took off" and i think its due to one very specific miscommunication about its goals and plans. the syndicate, upon formation, declares itself to stand against corruption and tyranny. when they are found, the syndicate would work to destroy it. so heres the golden question: what do THEY define as corruption and tyranny? if you were to go off c!techno's previous statements, seemingly "any government" is a valid answer. however, he also states he's fine with people just being in groups together hanging together.

what then DEFINES A GOVERNMENT for them? what lines do they have to sort out what does "deserve to be destroyed" and what does "deserve to exist freely"

this is a hypothetical i like to post when it comes to syndicate discourse:

i have a group of people. lets say 5 or so for example. they all live together and build together. any decisions made that would impact the entire group they make together and they must have a unanimous agreement in order to proceed, but otherwise they are free to be their own people and do their own thing. when you ask them, they tell you they are their own nation and they have a very clearly defined government: they are a direct democracy. does the syndicate have an obligation to attack?

there is absolutely no hierarchy present. there is no corruption present. but, they ARE indeed a government. is that then inherently negative? my answer is fuck no (see the whole "difference between a tyrant and a leader" thing above).

but THATS where the issue of this discourse LIES. in some people's eyes, the answer to that is YES. techno's made it clear "no government" is his personal view, but does that spread to the syndicate as a whole? do they act preemptively in case it DOES become corrupt? is it inherently corrupt because its a government, regardless of how it is ruled? the fact of the matter is because of how little we've seen the syndicate work as a SYNDICATE, we don't know that answer. so we're left to debate and speculate HOW they would act.

if the syndicate were to let that government exist, then they are not tyrannical. they are showing that they are working to stop tyranny and corruption, just like in pogtopia again.

if the syndicate were to destroy/attack that government, then they are tyrannical. simple as that. they are enforcing a rule of their own creation without any nuance or flexibility under the threat of absolute destruction.

miscommunication in debates comes, in my opinion, in the above. of course theres more points of nuance. for example:

would the syndicate allow a government like i had described with early lmanberg, where there is an established hierarchy but everyone in the country consents to said leadership? on one hand, there is no tyranny or corruption present which is what they are trying to work against. on the other hand, theres more a possibility of it occuring. perhaps they'd find a middle road between the two binary options of "leave or destroy" i am presenting, such as checking in occasionally to ensure no corruption occurs.

but if they were to destroy it without, for lack of a better word, "giving it a chance" they would be, in my opinion, tyrannical. they would be going aginst their words of opposing corruption and instead abusing their power to gain compliance.

your/others opinions may differ, again it depends on if you see it as worth it to possibly stop future tyranny or if a hierarchy is INHERENTLY a negative thing.

part of the reason so many blog gave up this debate, beyond not getting very clear answers for the syndicate, is because of the nuance present. there. is. no. right. answer. every single person will view it differently, because there is no universally agreed upon truth of right or wrong here. BUT, i hope this helps shed some light on the discussion and my thoughts on it

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

blues clues did a pride thing... is this a fever dream. this takes the whole i feel bad for kids nowadays thing to a whole new level 🤡

Why

Literally every concept in kids shows is shown in a gaudy, sing-sing, bright and fun way to explain things

It was age apropriate, and they will thankfully be completely oblivious to a time before it was (At the very least) normal to not be straight and cis.

It's a familiar show and character, who often brings new ideas to the kids each week. For a long time, people have acted like someone 'being' (or 'choosing') to be gay is a sexual thing.

But realistically, there are kids with two same-gender parents, there are kids whose father was the one who carried them to term, there are kids whose parents have had different relationships and those who have transitioned. And that's just white society babes.

I mean, you have other cultures with their own beiefs, and sure not every kid watching will be able to pick it up first time around, but little things like including the two-spirit symbol is important.

Most importantly, for the little kids out there who might be, aren't, aren't sure or otherwise... it says, "Hey, it's okay. Family looks different for everyone and being alive is different for everyone."

IT says, "Hey if one day you think you might be one of these, or if you want to explore that, it's fine. IT's just like working out your fave icecream flavour, and there are an unlimited number of free trials, baybee!"

It addresses the topic in a way that explains the basic concept, in the way anyone would, for a certain age group of kids. There's nothing that you would need to talk to an older teen or young adult about, bc that would be incorrect.

And its important that kids see that the wider society in general understands and accepts, even if 'to a degree' that gay and trans kids are out there. That this message of support and affection and normality reaches them before people like their parents, their grandparents, that one religious aunt who apparently has nothing the fuck else to do buit church, the HOA and any other group of self rightous busybodies start putting ideas in their heads that they should either hate these people, OR, that they should hate themselves and hide themselves.

I mean, where is the harm?

I mean, think back on the sheer political power of Rugrats. Explained a lot to us.

Angelica's mother (stacy?) was a high powered office woman who wanted her daughter to learn to Go For It. She filled Angelica with self confidence until it oozed out her eyeballs.

her dad drew did a lot of caring, and so did the aunt/uncle. also showing us the power of family care, not just the original family unit.

Deedee was a jewish woman who, yeah had some weird ideas thanks to dr lipschitz, but was a fantastic example of stay at home parent to the kids. They showed jewish hlidays too.

Stu was an inventor, and even though it put some strain on the finances, he was supported to pursue his passion. Which led to big oportunities later, but they showed the stress of it.

Phil and Lil's mum and dad, were a complete reversal of the normal dnamic. Betty was an outspoken feminist who was always willing to fight the battles for her friends, and her husband was a soft spoken, gentle dude who clearly loved their kids.Phil and Lil switching attire to change gender roles for a bit.

Chaz, chucky's dad, a single father and widower who was doing the best he could and reached out for help from his friend group when he needed it.

Not to mention Suzie, and both her parents were in super high paying professions (Doctor), etc. How many other shows did that?

When kimmi and her mother entered, Kimmi was the opposite of the asian stereotypes, she was loud and rambunctious. And the way they handled chucky getting a new mother, was huge and i think it still yoinks the old heartstrings to this day.

Involved grandparents.

New baby drama.

Stealing a giant robot so five babies could pilot it through france.

Generaly age-appropriate dialogue for the kids, and their weird little adventures, etc.

Typical, fun, but each episode seemed to have a message in there that is evident enough now.

Rugrats and Star Trek (oriignal) fly under the radar when we talk about media that was aimed to show the next generation a different kind of normal... but look how most of us turned out.

More accepting, more aware of how the puppet strings are pulled, more willing to speak up and seek assistance and learn, etc.

So maybe you feel uncomfy about the awkward song but also like, babes, you are not the target audience.

Kids need to know there's nothing wrong with being different, like gay or trans or kids with differing levels of disabilities (eg. kids with prosthetics and wheelchairs can be very aware at school, but fcharacters like cyborg help them and others around them to understand why it is needed and that it's normal)

etc.

I can barely see rn bc i have a cold, (verified with the Awful Test), and my eyes are streaming but i did my best to answer in a vaguely coherent way