#they REFUSE to think for themselves even when this shit is made AS EASY AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE FOR THEM

[centaurianthropology]

Another thing I've been thinking about in regards to 'Murderbot' is how far Murderbot's accusations really go as confessions. I've seen people complain that PresAux are 'ungrateful', as Murderbot constantly characterizes them as such. It complains that they don't appreciate what it's done, don't recognize the efforts it's made.

But it's not taking into account what a bad communicator is constantly is. Yes, PresAux don't really understand Murderbot, but it has put very little effort into understanding them. The miscommunication goes both ways! Murderbot is a deeply self-sabotaging character, constantly walking away from moments it might have made a connection, refusing to explain itself or its actions, and then getting upset when people don't simply intuit them and thank it for what it refuses to put voice to.

It's an incredibly understandable flaw. So many people have the flaw of not explaining themselves, refusing to connect or communicate, and then getting angry when they're not understood. It's refusing to meet anyone half-way, because it's spent its existence being treated as an object. So why should it put forth any effort to explain itself now?

Except it still wants to be understood. It still wants to be appreciated. And when it does put forth that effort with Mensah, it's rewarded. She reaches back. She connects with it, but the problem is that she has other connections. She has other people she's responsible for, and so once again Murderbot feels misunderstood because it won't make the same effort with them, and they don't understand, and Mensah has to choose between chasing after it (again) and trying to keep her people cohesive and alive. She chooses the prior commitment, and she chooses to respect its autonomy.

"It's not your pet" echoes in my head, because I think there is a certain impulse in the audience to woobify Murderbot, to reduce it to a sweet baby pet thing that can't possibly help when it spies on people, or invades their privacy, or refuses to explain why it does what it does, or hurts people in unexpected ways (or very expected ways), or gets upset when people can't read its mind. But it's not a pet. It's a wholly realized, broken person. And it's fucking up every bit as much as PresAux is fucking up. Its war with Gurathin is 100% a mutual affair, where they've both been absolute shit to one another simply because they could. Its refusal to speak to the team in anything like an actual back-and-forth conversation is an understandable reaction to what it's been through, and it's still the wrong call and is actively worsening the situation everyone finds themselves in.

And that's what I like about this show. It's not taking the easy way out with any of these situations. Murderbot is an ASSHOLE, and it's wrong about half the things it says. It wants outcomes it can't or won't work for, and wants recognition for things there is no way for people to have know it did. And haven't we all done that? Haven't we all been in that mental place? Having to make connections is HARD. It's scary and puts you in a vulnerable place and may not pay off. And it's the only way to really live. Right now, Murderbot wants the rewards of connection without the risks and pains of connection.

That's a great place to start a long-term character arc! It's wrong and broken and dumb in the most honest, real ways. It makes massive mistakes, and refuses to acknowledge them, and hopes they just go away. Or it tries to tackle them, and does it in the worst possible way.

And then, occasionally, it gets it right. It opens up, and makes a real and beautiful connection. What it has with Mensah is as good as it is because Murderbot, even just a little, was willing to open up, to be vulnerable, to share pieces of itself. And that's the first thing that really matters in its life.

This show has a hopepunk heart, where genuine connection is not only rewarded, it's the only thing that really matters. It's a lesson Murderbot is going to learn, but it's going to be a slow and difficult path to understanding, just like it is for any of us.

[gay-dorito-dust]

May i request some hcs for dante and vergil (separately if possible) that turned into a younger version of themselves (a toddler or teenager your choice) and they’re s/o is like:??????

I just think it would be funny

Dante

This little shit will try to flirt with you even when reverted back to his teenage self.

And you’re here like: ‘no.’

He pouts, crosses his arms and storms away claiming he’s going to get pizza to heal his soul.

No matter what Dante was always going to be a little dramatic, but needless to say you were more than confused in how he reverted to his teenage self and secretly hoped it wasn’t permanent or else this relationship had gotten weird really quickly.

‘ what happened? I thought you said the mission was easy?’ You asked.

He only shrugs. ‘It was easy until I got hit with something and before I knew it, boom I’m a teenager again.’

‘So you know when it’ll wear off?’ You ask again.

‘Nope.’ Dante replies as he takes a bite out of his pizza, having become too comfortable in his current position a little too quickly for your liking.

God forbid you go out and someone asks if Dante is your son, you had to answer quickly before Dante makes the situation weird and says yes, glaring at him into complying to which he does with a dramatic sigh and agrees unconvincingly.

Seriously Dante as a teenager is a fucking nightmare and your left with a constant headache whenever his endless energy and recklessness got him into situations where you have to break him out of, seeing as you were now the responsible adult for his actions.

And it also doesn’t help that he’s very much aware with how much trouble he was causing you, with the way he smirks at you before shrugging his shoulders, claiming he was still a growing kid in his most vital developmental stages.

He uses ‘I’m just a kid’ as an excuse to anything and everything that he was defiantly the cause of.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, not until he changes back into himself, to which he tries to pull the puppy dog eye card as he pathetically drags a pillow and blanket with him, always looking back at you in hopes you’d changed your mind.

You don’t, you meant what you said and you weren’t about to let up anytime soon.

So when he does change back at long last, you both spent most of the day cuddling in bed to make up for lost time.

Vergil

He’s embarrassed that he had allowed such a thing to happen to him.

Seriously he’s more or less doing everything within his power for you not to see him like this, using the Yamato to open portals elsewhere, or just not interacting you what so ever.

Dante finds this hilarious and will be taking the piss, only to get stabbed, so that aspect doesn’t change.

Vergil made him to swore to secrecy if you ever were to ask his twin where he was, only for Dante to tell you regardless that his brother wasn’t himself.

You initially thought that he’s sick, which is odd considering his half demon lineage, and went to his room with concern and wanting to help heal your stubborn partner. Only to see this younger version of the man you loved in his trademark coat that his form barely fills in.

The eyes were the same, slicked back hair, hand on Yamato at all times as precaution, this was your Vergil alright but why was he suddenly so…young?

‘You shouldn’t be here, I didn’t want you to see me like this.’ He says, voice significantly higher and even cracking in a few places.

‘Dante told me you weren’t feeling yourself, but he didn’t say that you had somehow reverted to being a teenager.’ You replied and you heard Vergil click his teeth in annoyance.

‘Of course that blasted fool couldn’t hold his tongue for more than five seconds, useless.’ He practically hisses as you stifled a chuckle when Vergil has to push up the sleeves of his now oversized coat so he could use his hands as he grunts in frustration.

it was adorable! You couldn’t help it even as he sent a glare at you that told you to not find humour in his current predicament.

In your eyes teenage Vergil was like that of a kitten, if you could pick a specific breed, you’d most specifically pick a Russian blue to compare him to in terms of physical appearance. White fur/hair and a striking pair of blue eyes.

He would mostly spend his time trying to find a way to revert back to normal, so there’s not much chaos with Vergil, he was essentially the same as he was as an adult but it was obvious that there was more anger and hostility within his younger self when it came to his human side.

He read, he trained, he went on long missions in hopes of finding something to solve his teenage problem faster. He was pretty much recluse and kept to himself more often than not.

Yet there will be moments where you’d see his silhouette from afar, acting like your silent guard dog whenever you were out, eyes scanning for people willing to cross the unspoken line. And when they did, it was humorous to see fully grown men having their asses handed to them by a teenage version of your Vergil. It was certainly a highlight to your day.

But it doesn’t compare to when he does revert back to normal, acting the same as he always did as though nothing had happened. This little situation would stay and die with the both of you for as long as possible, or unless Dante decides to be the brotherly dickhead that he is and tell all.

[bunni-v1]

MORE JEALOUS PURE VANILLA COOKIE OMGGGG he'd totally be a jealous person despite his kindness

kinda imagining that in the stage during the push and pull he was doing, trying to push you away, you become quite close to some other cookies in the kingdom, specifically the creme Republic (clotted cream and financier) and he just gets.... uncomfortable when you two are FINALLY together because you're so friendly with clotted cream and his bodyguard.... like, hello.........

his eyes narrow slightly, and it just makes him feel so unpleasant, knowing that clotted cream cookie can easily strike up conversation with you and randomly tell him something you like—it makes his dough seethe slightly, whether he wants to admit it or not. or how financier and some random vanilla kingdom npcs mention a fact about you he coincidentally doesn't know because he was busy going through it and pushing you away before; OUGHHHHHH

i like to think white lily is involved in this in some way? he can't fully get over her and sometimes he tends to get passive about your very real concerns about how he looks at her as though he has something to say, i wonder how he would react if he finds you actually a bit insecure or unsure whether he'd pick you over her......... since he still cares deeply about his once first love, no?

anyways. yes. jealous PV is a concept that sticks heavily in my mind rn

-🃏

Jealousy Looks Ugly on You

🍓Hi pookiebear, I'm so sorry for 100% butchering the Creme Republic. I refuse to play that shit, even for that stupid blonde twink. Note, this takes place significantly after the events of Beast Yeast, so White Lily is technically visiting as a diplomat from the Faerie kingdom, and pv has already had his character development lol. Assumptions are made, and there is heavily implied past PureLily.

Tw: Poor communication; jealousy; implications at the very end; grammar/spelling errors

Info: Pure Vanilla x Reader; Implied past purelily; angst (not really though); fluff

Patience is a virtue that few cookies can claim to have. It's something that doesn't come easy to most, and Pure Vanilla Cookie has never judged anyone for being unable to hold themselves back from frustration. Except... himself of course.

He was exceptionally patient, to the point most gawked at him for his gentleness and understanding in certain situations. He held himself to a higher standard, and very few things brought out irritation in him. So... why exactly was the sight of Clotted Cream Cookie making his dough run so hot right now?

It wasn't as though Clotted Cream was doing anything offensive, quite the opposite actually. He was having a pleasant conversation, all warm smiles and... gentle touches. With who? Oh. Just the object of Pure Vanilla's deepest affections, the cookie he'd only recently been able to call his other half, his dearly beloved you.

Clotted Cream seems to speak to you with such familiarity, such warmth like perhaps he too harbors some kind of affection for you. Pure Vanilla's eyebrow twitches when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard. It nearly pulls a frown out of him, but his calm smile remains steadfast, not wanting you to notice and worry over him.

Still, his eyes narrow when Clotted Cream pats you on your shoulder good-naturedly. The former cookie locking eyes with him and smiling before sending you back to his side like he hadn't earned Pure Vanilla's ire only seconds ago. You are oblivious, as you always are, as he wants you to be. He only smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you just a little closer than he normally does.

"Did you enjoy your time with Clotted Cream Cookie, my love?" He asks sweetly, though he doesn't really want to know.

You give him a beaming smile, "As always. He knows how to make boring proceedings fun."

"Ah," he hopes you don't notice how he tenses, "What were you talking about just now, it seemed funny."

"Just an inside joke," you smile fondly as you remember, "it's only funny if you were there, or else I'd let you in on it too."

"That's alright," he hums, though his fingers press a little harder into your side as you walk, "I'm just happy to see you happy."

It's not a lie, either. He does love seeing your smile, but not when it's caused by another cookie. Not when it's treated like some kind of secret he's not meant to see. He tries to remind himself that there's no need to be so immature, but his dough is already warm and his mind spiraling. It took him so very long to come to terms with his feelings for you, he missed out on so much. Where he wasn't, other cookies were, and those cookies took his place in experiences that should've been his. Took smiles that should've been his. Moments he should've shared with you.

You place your hand where he holds you at your waist, turning to give him a warm smile. It warms his heart to know you're caring for him in your own way, but he doesn't want to make you worry. To ease your mind, he presses a kiss to your forehead, offering his own smile up to you. You were with him now, there was no need to worry any longer.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Pure Vanilla enjoyed quiet moments with you, especially ones like this. In the garden, surrounded by the white lilies there was nothing more peaceful than that. Your fingers run along their delicate petals as you hum a little tune to yourself, and he enjoys the sight with unbridled delight. His favorite cookie surrounded by his favorite flowers, what a blessing it is on his soul.

There are times where he wishes that every day could be like this. Just you and him in company, taking things nice and slow, soaking in the environment. You turn a little to sneak a glance at him, smiling to yourself when you notice his staring. The shyness cute on your face, something he loves to draw out of you.

Yes moments like these are exactly what he lives fo—

“Y/n Cookie? Are you around?” The familiar voice of Financier Cookie calls amongst the sea of flowers.

You perk up, standing from your spot with a wide smile, “I’m over here with the lilies!”

She comes into view around the corner, normally stern expression softening at the sight of you. Pure Vanilla does not like the look on her face. Still, he holds his tongue, there was no reason to be upset. She was a friend.

“Clotted Cream requests your presence,” She announces, and when you frown she shakes her head, “Nothing serious, he wishes to continue your conversation from yesterday. He’s in he quarters as usual.”

You brighten up, “Oh! I suppose we never did finish talking— ah, but… Pure Vanilla and I were spending some time together.”

He does not frown, though he really wants to. He knows that he could just say no, that you would remain by his side if he asked… but he can’t possibly take up your time when you are wanted elsewhere. It would be unfair to do so over such petty jealousy.

“We see each other every day,” He assures with that same gentle smile, “Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

You frown a little, “Are you sure?”

Of course he isn’t, “Positive. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at him worriedly, but ultimately wander off to find Clotted Cream. Financier stays back for a moment, watching you with an odd look on her face. The consideration is enough to pique his interest, so he raises his question.

“Is something the matter…?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” She shakes her head, “I would tell you immediately if there was anything to be concerned with.”

“Then why do you look so perplexed?” He asks again.

She seems to consider if telling him the truth is worth it or not. Mulling her options over for a few seconds before sighing, “It’s just a bit… odd to see them here.”

He frowns, “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong with the gardens?”

She shakes her head, sighing off some kind of weight, “Well, they’ve told me a few times in passing that they’re… not a fan of while lillie’s. The smell irritates them, if I’m remembering correctly, so it’s surprising to find them surrounded by them.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware…” He mutters, grip tightening on his staff.

She gives him a small reassuring smile, but it does anything but help, “I’m sure they just forgot to mention it, that’s all.”

“Of course, thank you Financier Cookie,” He hummed with as much sincerity he could muster.

She smiles tightly at him, and then leaves him alone with his thoughts. And think he does, far too much. Not only are you so close with so many cookies, not only did you leave him for Clotted Cream today, but now he learns you don’t even care for his favorite flower? You hadn’t ever mentioned it to him, but you had to other cookies. Wouldn’t something this important be worth talking about with him?

He takes a deep breath, leveling himself out once again. He couldn’t get ahead of himself, knowing that you would never do anything to hurt him purposefully. He couldn’t stop the ache, though. There was so much he did not know about you, so many things he had to learn that other cookies got to hear without asking.

How much time would it take for him to know you the way they did? He burned with jealousy at how easy it was for other cookies to know you, to see you and talk to you with no effort. Each time you were around he felt himself falling apart at the seams, grasping at any little sprinkle of attention you gave him. He could never be so casual with you, not with the effect you had on him, and it made him so jealous to know other cookies had it so easy.

He sighs again, setting his hat down. Not even the lilies were bringing him comfort now, his mood soured yet again. All he could do was sit and seethe until you returned to his side, imagining what you and Clotted Cream might be talking about that was so important to pluck you from his side.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It is days of this cycle, which he refuses to break, even when given the chance to a million times. He just can’t find it in himself to step in, not when you seem so happy. Besides, it’s not as though he never sees you. He gets to have you to himself for most of the day, and especially at night.

Still, the annoyance grows in his chest little by little. Without realizing it he distanced himself from you, not wanting to overstep, he decides giving you space is for the best. Yet, he doesn’t realize just how much space he has given you. You begin to miss him, but he always has an excuse for you to go and visit with other cookies.

It feels like he does not want you around, even though he misses you dearly. The conundrum reaches a head when White Lily comes to visit. Being the Faerie Queen now, it was rare she took the time to see her old friend. So when the news of her traveling reached his ears, he cleared all his time to be with her.

You had not seen him since she had arrived, unless you were in your shared room. Even then, you hardly spoke more than a few words. There was an awkwardness there that hadn’t existed only a few days prior, it made your stomach ache. But how could you bring up your concerns when he merely brushed them away, always finding some way to make peace with the situation.

You did not hate White Lily Cookie, she couldn’t not control Pure Vanilla. But the sickness in your dough when you see them together does not go away with any soothing. He talks to her with such ease and knowing, in a way he never did with you. And when he looks at her there is a deep affection that never existed for you.

It makes you hurt. You could never be her, not in a million years. Perhaps that was why he was so distant recently, because he had missed her. Perhaps he wished that you were White Lily Cookie instead.

Despite him seeming oblivious, he was anything but. He was fully aware of the distance he had made between the two of you, and yet… he didn’t know how to fix it. His people pleasing ways had come around to stab him in the back, and he had no idea how to heal the wound inflicted by his own foolish actions.

Not until White Lily’s keen eyes picked up in the tension. She had always been able to read him well, it was why he was so fond of her. She knew him like no other cookie did, and he her. Which is exactly why she was the one to notice how worried he’d seemed.

“You’re tense,” She said simply, taking her seat next to him in the pagoda.

He sighs, “Is it obvious.”

“To me,” She smiles, “Tell me what’s on your mind, friend. It’s rare to see you so worried.”

He frowns at her, all the tension and fear from the week flooding him now that she was confronting it, “I am afraid I may be ruining my relationship.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head, “How would you be doing that?”

After a moments hesitation he lists the ways he has been dealing with the situation. The worry that he will never be close enough to you. The annoyance in his chest when other cookies are chummy with you. The distance he has created to avoid those feeling only making them worse. She smiles through the whole thing, knowingly.

“So… you’re jealous?” She chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing smile.

“I… suppose I am,” He admits, “It’s not as though the feeling is new, but it’s never been so strong…”

She laughs at him again, “Because you are in love, silly. Of course it’s stronger, have you talked to them about it.”

“Well…”

“Pure Vanilla.” She scolds, “Goodness, when will you ever learn. You can’t people please all the time, it’s not good for your health.”

He sighs, nodding along in agreement, “I know, I just don’t know how to bring it up so I deflect. And I’ve been avoiding them since you arrived, I can tell they feel horrible, but I fear I’ve gone too far.”

She hushes him, grabbing his hand in her own, “It’s never too late if the intent is there. I’m sure they’ll understand if you just talk to them. I would.”

“Thank you White Lily,” He smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tightly. She always had a way to ease his worries with her words. It was just how well she knew him, she knew just what he needed as always.

A throat clears to the side of them, drawing their attention to it. White Lily reacts first, pulling her hands away from him and offering you a smile.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, mousy with voice shaking.

“Of course not,” She assures, “We were just talking about you, actually!”

Your expression relaxes a bit, inching forward as if one of them might deny you entry, “Nothing bad I hope…”

“Never,” Pure Vanilla speaks with such warmth that you almost forget how much you’d missed him this whole time, “Please come join us.”

So you do, and you sit and talk with them, and things are nearly normal. Pure Vanilla is back to his usual affectionate self, like nothing ever happened. But you catch the way he and White Lily exchange glances, the way banter comes to them more easily than it ever has to you. They just understood each other in a way you never have, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Especially not after he’d pushed you away so much.

Eventually, White Lily leaves with the excuse of needing rest. Yet, you know it’s to give the two of you space. She’s always been observant and understanding, and you’re grateful for her consideration. When it is just you and Pure Vanilla again, you feel the tension begin to creep back between you. The thick wall of awkwardness wedging between you, and you fear for a moment that this is how it will be forever now. Then, he takes your hands in his, leaning over the table to get closer to you.

“I have to apologize,” He begins, “I have been unfair to you, and we have both suffered because of my actions.”

“Pure Vanilla—“ You want to ease his worries for some reason, tell him it’s alright, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“It took me a very long time to let you in, and because of that I fell short on sharing important moments with you. I’ve found myself… envious of other cookies who take up your time, and I’ve been immature in how I handle it,” He admits, stroking the backs of your hands, “I’ve put too much distance between us, and I can see how much it pains you. I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It takes you a moment of awkward blinking to take in all he said, and while his genuineness is sweet, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your stomach. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. He was jealous so he avoided you, and at the same time you were just as jealous of White Lily Cookie. It was silly, and so easily solved, yet neither of you were willing to upset the other. He seems to find the humor in it all too, laughing heartily at your side.

You laugh until your sides hurt and tears are streaming from your eyes. Leaning your full weight on him so you don’t collapse to the floor. When you finally calm, you find it in yourself to admit to your own plight.

“I would be harsh on you, but I’m just as guilty of jealousy.” You sigh, squeezing his fingers in yours.

“What do you have to be jealous of?” He asks, and you almost can’t believe he doesn’t know. It’s so obvious to everyone else around him that he still adores White Lily, everyone but him it seems.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Gosh, you’re so oblivious. You really don’t know how you look at her, do you?”

He shakes his head with a deep frown.

“When you look at White Lily, I can see how much you still love her. I know you would never hurt me or betray me like that, but it does hurt when I see how you treat her. I feel like… maybe you’ll never look at me like that.” You admit, voice small and shaky the longer you go. It was hard to come to terms with how much it hurt, and worse to say out loud to him. He could reject you, pretend your feelings aren’t real.

Instead, he tucks a finger under you chin and forces your eyes on him, “I already do… I just get so embarrassed when you’re looking that I hide it from you.”

He pulls you a little closer, “I still love White Lily, but not in the same way that I love you. You are my whole world, my love. I would never leave you, not for anyone, and I’m sorry I made you worry for even a moment.”

You smile softly at him, leaning into his touch, “Next time, I think we should both just talk about it? All this dodging each other is silly.”

“I agree,” He chuckles, “I much prefer talking to you than not.”

“Very good,” You hum, sliding your arms around his shoulders, “Shall we make it up to each other then?”

His hand tug you closer by your waist, “I think that would be very nice, yes.”

[thewitchblue]

"Did you join the fucking military?"

Jason asked Tim, who blinked blankly at Jason until he noticed what he was holding. Jason was holding your military tags, which Tim's selfishly kept to himself when you "lost" them. Technically, he stole the tags from you, but you can always get a new set. You'll be matching! He did feel a little bad that you got in trouble with leadership when you asked for new ones, but he's sure you'd be fine without the old pair.

"No."

Tim didn't elaborate further. The tags have practically lived on him since he stole them. He only ever takes them off for showers, which is how Jason found them. Jason scoffed,

"Good. You'd be a shit soldier. Why do you have military dog tags?"

Tim tried to take them back, but Jason held them above his head. Your dog tags are air jailed until he gets answers. Jason needed to know.

"Answer or I'll find a place to smelt them down."

Tim knew he was serious by the gleam in Jason's eyes, so he said,

"My girlfriend is in a special forces unit for the marines. She refuses to tell me which unit she's in, but I've narrowed it down."

Jason was too stunned to notice that he dropped your dog tags. Tim snatched them off the floor and put them safely around his neck again and tucked under his shirt where they belonged. He likes to say that you're closer to his heart with your tags under his shirt with the bonus of protecting him from any potential bullets. Even when you are gone, you promise that you will always come back. He's used to your deployment and the limbo you have him in.

"When do I get to meet her?"

Dick said from the doorway. He was passing by and overheard. His little Timmy has a girlfriend? When did that happen?

Tim touches the tags while thinking of what to reveal and what to keep private. He's never been good at respecting privacy, but he has been learning for you. He knows to keep anything you say to him a secret, but what about other things relating to you?

"Whenever she wants. I'm not her keeper."

Tim answered vaguely. He's flying to see you soon, and he doesn't want to be followed. You've been together for three years, but you met kind of awkwardly. You tackled him to the ground and wrestled with him after mistaking him for one of your friends.

Your willpower eventually overcame his reflexes, and he stopped struggling. You had laughed when you pinned him down and ruffled his hair in victory. It was embarrassing to him how quickly he submitted to you. He watched your eyes widen when you noticed he's not your friend. You took in the scene too slowly. You, straddling who you had assumed was your friend with your hands pinning his wrists to both sides of his head, and Tim blushing underneath you. Tim didn't know how to react either, so you both stared at each other before you started awkwardly apologising.

Tim was a mess, but he was an adorable mess. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but there were no bruises nor any scrapes. You were always careful to leave no injuries. He was breathless, just staring at you with wide eyes and a shyness that almost made you smile. He was so cute that you wanted to squish him.

You quickly got off of him once you realised how long you've been staring at him. You pulled him up from the ground when he didn't make a move to stand by himself and actually almost fell right back to the ground because his legs refused to work for him. He was understandly stunned.

This is awkward. How do you explain the tradition of you fighting your friend on sight? Your friend does the exact same thing with you. It was excellent training for your deployment to fight each other on sight without any prep. Enemy soldiers aren't going to reveal themselves before attacking, so surprise attacks help keep your reflexes sharp.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He couldn't get the image of you pinning him down out of his head. Nobody has ever pinned him down so intimately. You were gentle. Your hold would have been easy to break out of if he didn't stop struggling. It was like you only played until one of you got pinned, and then the fight was over.

Tim was still trying to remember how to function. What does he do? What does he say? He's all shaken up. He had to look away from you. He managed to say,

"It's fine."

He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but it sounded strained. He was pretending like the wrestling really took it out of him by fake panting, but you both knew better. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but pat his back and attempted to leave.

Attempted, being the key word. Tim caught your wrist loosely and nervously said,

"I, uh... would you... Can we... Let's... I'm sorry."

He didn't have the words with you looking at him like that. He was nervous. You smiled softly at him, and he forgot how to speak entirely. He could only stare until you took the initiative and asked him to go on a date before you leave for boot camp. He nodded, and that was that. You gave him your number and continued your run like nothing happened.

The date went amazing. It was a bit unconventional as you took him to a paint gun fight after showing him the gun and explaining the rules. You grinned every time he landed a hit and even wiped away the paint that splattered onto him with a fond expression. You opened up about the fear you have about joining the military, but your desire to help. You want to make a difference, however small or large that may be.

You kissed the bruising wounds softly and banaged the bleeding ones before he could even reach for the first aid kit you brought. You helped him up with a wild grin, and he kissed you until the adrenaline ran out. The guns were empty, and you both were messes, but your hearts were full, and Tim can safely say he hates paintballing. You took him to see a movie like a normal person next date.

Jason and Dick watched their brother soften further and further as he went down memory lane. Dick was ecstatic and already plotting to meet you, but Jason was confused why anybody would date Tim. Yeah, he's had his fair share of partners, but he's surprised every time he gets a date, let alone a girlfriend.

You were his mystery girl, and their family loves a good mystery.

[azsazz]

Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

_________________________________________

A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

[cultkinkcoven]

really can’t stand people who refuse to even try with neopronouns or understand therians because to my autistic brain it is so fucking simple and I feel like it’s actually everyone else that are over complicating shit.

We came up with a couple terms to describe a couple ideas of self. He, she, they. I don’t use neos, but I do use he and they. I use he because I am masculine aligned and I use they because I am also nonbinary and not entirely masc. I don’t have any feelings towards myself that do not feel human.

But some of our gendered pronouns aren’t even enough, and on the realest note, my gender is probably somewhere between boy slut and freak, but I usually just keep that to myself. If someone feels like these words aren’t specific enough to them, fuck yeah make another one. Are you kidding me? You explored your own identity enough to have come up with a special custom term that perfectly describes you? That’s so fucking cool dude.

If a neurodivergent person with CPTSD feels extremely inhuman because of their psychology/ trauma or real world experiences with discrimination, (wow you mean the person everyone treats differently doesn’t feel very human?! that’s crazy!) but they do however have a very easy time relating and communicating with cats through their nonverbal social cues, if they feel comfortable and expressive wearing a tail and ears, and think of themselves as “cat”, okay??? cool? Cat is a homie, tf. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with cat, cat seems to know how to have fun.

If a neurodivergent person with DID has multiple altars that are littles, and because of some experience, they experience their little as an animal, a puppy, or baby bird, …. okay??? cool??? I’m not really in any kind of position to tell chick that chick can’t fucking exist, and honestly it’s really none of my business how a system manages their littles. “oh they’re probably mentally ill” okay??? And perhaps they are? They’re still living are they not? They still exist, yes? So am I going to go out of my way to make their existence more difficult? I don’t really see the point!!!

If a neurodivergent person with antisocial personality disorder has never felt connected to humanity whatsoever and simply does not want to be referred to by human terms, it’s really not my place to debate about it.

It doesn’t even have to be that serious. You’ve always identified strongly with fairies? Be a fucking fairy dude. No one can stop you. You feel like you’re an elf? Okay! No one can control you, you are whatever the fuck you are regardless of how anyone feels. You can reinvent yourself tomorrow. Why tf not.

Is it really that hard to dynamically adapt language? Like, when people tell me they don’t know how they could possibly use xi xim or xe xer (pronounced with a Z) in a sentence, it tells me that they literally have a lower capacity for learning language. Like they’re not smart enough to apply pronoun grammatical rules to new words, they can’t even fathom the concept of a new word because they somehow believe that words aren’t made up by people but just pop magically into existence. You don’t have to get neopronouns but if you’re telling me you seriously cannot figure it out, I’m genuinely going to think you’re slightly dumb (unless you’re dyslexic, you get a pass I know it’s rough out here for y’all lmao)

It’s not that I think every case of neopronouns is easily explainable and super simple, because it doesn’t even have to be.

It’s more so that, with 7 billion fucking humans on this planet, it’s really not a surprise to me that some of them express their identity through non human terms. As someone with autism I can understand that, even if I don’t feel the exact same. There is always going to be some weird person who goes by knife/knives or bun/bunny. Im kind of just happy they’ve found something they can feel comfortable within. I genuinely cannot bring myself to care enough to argue with someone about it.

The whole “so I can identify as an attack helicopter?” thing is so stupid because if you were being genuine you could identify as a damn fighter jet. But y’all ain’t ready for that conversation because everyone who is passionate is too cringe for y’all to handle.

[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

When It First Took Hold Pairing - Dain Aetos x RiorsonSister!Reader Summary - You're so worried about challenges starting next week that you can't sleep. So instead you decide to sneak out and try and get some practice in the gym. Unfortunately, your wingleader catches you out after curfew. Word Count - 1.4k Warnings - None!

It was one of the nights where the world refused to be quiet. You tossed and turned for hours in the barracks, every single sound, from the wind rattling the windows, soft laughter, moans echoing from the far end of the barracks, kept you from the sleep you were longing for. When the moon was high in the sky, you realized you couldn’t take it any longer. You glanced over beside you, but Sloane didn’t seem to have the same problem, since she was sound asleep. You slipped your cloak around your shoulders and crept out, quiet as a shadow, not even sure where your feet were taking you until you ended up at the gym. 

Challenges started next week, and you knew all the eyes that mattered would be on you. Your squad, the other marked ones who were already looking for a reason to crucify you since you had gotten to live such a “extravagant” life with no relic compared to themselves . . . Everyone was waiting for you to fall on your face, and you couldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t disappoint Xaden who was already pissed off you were here in the first place, and you didn’t want to disappoint Violet who you were sure was reporting back to him with how you were doing. That meant you had to be better, and that meant you needed more practice. 

The problem was, it was hard to practice sparring when there was no one to spar with. You resigned yourself to using the punching bag to practice your hits and kicks, but didn’t feel like you were getting anything out of it. In fact you felt more frustrated than when you started. 

“You’re out after curfew, cadet.” 

Shit. You turned, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and meeting your wingleader’s gaze. Once again, you questioned why the man you were supposed to hate had to look like that. Dain Aetos’s eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the gym, but his gaze dipped for the briefest second, down your form and back up again, and you couldn’t tell if it was judgment or something else that made the tips of your ears burn. Something about his presence always seemed to rob the breath from your lungs, but it had to be the exercise you were doing, right? “Well . . . So are you. Doesn’t that cancel me out or something?” 

He was not amused. “Get your ass to bed Riorson.” 

“No! I - I can’t.” You said, panic creeping into your tone against your will. 

Dain’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak. He waited, like he knew you weren’t done yet. 

Before you realized what you were doing or why, you were blurting out your fears. “Challenges start on Monday, and I don’t want to let the squad down. I suck Aetos. Aaric is a natural, Sloane . . . doesn’t want to try. I only got a few weeks of combat training, and no one is helping me. I can’t - fuck, I can’t give people more reasons to hate me by being bad at this.” 

Something flickered across Dain’s face, quick and unreadable, but it didn’t look like scorn. He stepped closer to you, “All the marked ones were trained-”

You tugged the neckline of your shirt down, exposing smooth, unmarked skin. “Don’t have a mark. My mother smuggled me out to Poromiel when things started turning ugly. Easy to do since she was a Poromish citizen. Not much Navarre could do.” You caught the faint flush on his cheeks, but said nothing. Instead, you turned back to the punching bag. “Marked ones know who I am, and I’ve spent the majority of my life thinking I’d be accepted by them when I got here only to learn they all can’t stand me because they think I got off easy.” You threw a punch that hurt more than it should. “Do you know how it feels when the people you thought were your family, the people you spent a lot of your childhood with, fucking hate you?” 

He was so quiet, if you hadn’t been able to feel his gaze on your back, you would have thought he left. Then he was right behind you, taking up way too much space. “You’re going to break your wrist if you keep throwing punches like that.” 

“I - what?” You blinked at him, the shift from emotional spiral to sparring advice short-circuiting your brain. 

“And you’re aiming your hits in the wrong spot. The straighter the punch the better. You’re going to do a lot better aiming for the jugular-” His fingers brushed the surface just inches from yours, and your breath caught, not from nerves, but from the warmth of his proximity. “- than the face.” 

Okay, that made sense, but your head was clouded in confusion. Was Dain Aetos, your brother’s number one hater, trying to help you? “What are you doing?” 

He took a deep breath. “You said no one was helping you. It’s my responsibility as your wingleader -” 

“Bullshit.” You interrupted. “I’m nothing to your wing until I make it through threshing and manifest a signet. What. Are. You. Doing?” Gods this better not be pity. That wasn’t what you wanted. In fact you didn’t think you’d be able to stand it from him. 

Dain stared at you, an expression in his eyes that you could almost describe as . . . Understanding. “I do.” His voice was quieter now. “I know how it feels when people you thought you knew look at you like you’re something they don’t even recognize.” 

Suddenly, you knew. The way he and Violet were with each other. You had heard whispers about the two of them, and then the way Violet spoke to him on the parapet . . . Her words about not letting him touch you swam back in your mind. “Aetos-”

You saw the exact second the door slammed shut behind his eyes. Whatever softness had cracked through was now gone. “Let’s go. A few rounds, then kicks. You want to survive next week, right?” 

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Dain was a good fighter, and you’d be stupid not to accept his help. So you did. Of course, his definition of “a few rounds” was a damn lie. By the time you moved on to kicks, sweat was pouring off you like rain. 

“Spread your legs.” 

You couldn’t help it. It had to be the lack of brain function due to the stress of exercise. It was the only logical explanation to why your thoughts immediately went to Dain saying those words to you in another situation, shirtless, that intense gaze locked on you once more. Shocked that the thought had even dared cross your mind, you shook it off like a physical thing, hoping it hadn’t somehow broadcast itself. “I - what?” You said, thankful for how much you were exercising because you were sure it was helping hide the flush in your cheeks. 

Thankfully, Dain took no notice of your weirdness, moving from behind the punching bag to behind you, his boots kicking your legs further apart. 

Great. Another mental image to shake out of your head. 

“It’ll help with your balance. Just make sure you’re centered-” You saw his hands start to rise toward your waist, then pause mid-air, fingers flexing like he was caught between instinct and caution. A moment later, they dropped back to his sides. “-between both of them.” He carried on like nothing had happened. 

But you’d never been good at letting things go. “Aetos,” you didn’t mean for your voice to sound that soft.. “Why did Violet tell me not to let you touch me?” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the pain that was too much for him to hide, and for a moment you . . . felt sorry for him. Then it was gone, replaced with the sternness you had seen when he first walked in. “It’s getting late. You need to get to bed, cadet.” Without another word, Dain Aetos started walking to the door. 

You stood frozen, already kicking yourself for asking. Why the hell did you have to ruin it? He was helping. He was helping. Of course you had finally gotten help, and then fucked it up. You pulled your shirt up, wiping some of the sweat from your face. 

“If you want some more help . . .” 

Your head snapped up. He was still at the door, facing you, cheeks flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. 

Maybe you weren’t the only one flustered tonight. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow night at around the same time.” 

Swallowing, you nodded at him. “Thank you.” You whispered, but he seemed to hear you fine, nodding back at you and walking out the door. 

You really needed to figure out why everyone hated him - 

Because so far, all he’d done was help you. 

And leave you a little breathless.

[chaifootsteps]

kept thinking about vivs transphobia screenshots and how stupid her apology excuse of drawing "controversial ladies" was when she said, "well, bigoted white women who do black face make me feel empowered in this unsure political landscape of america!" even though she made fanart of them either prior or after trump won in 2016, and it made me wonder - why would she feel empowered by those beliefs?

but then i thought about how she's had at least so far, three shitty experiences with trans men for the past decade of her life; dollcreep, ken, and salem.

and i guess i just wish people would acknowledge that. like, at all.

because it's so easy to claim that the screenshots just came out of nowhere to make her look bad, when, no, it's a repeated pattern of behavior based on her, like many other people of privilege incapable of self reflection, being unable to separate oppressed identities from how she views people that are apart of said group. (unless of course, they rename themselves after one of her character, change their appearance to look like that character, start doing sex work like that character, and pretend to be raped and abused like said character.)

she already went through the trouble of making fully colored comics (not just one, but multiple which is embarrassing,) of jojo in her mid to early 20s, who ive heard is a wojak of dollcreep. (maybe in response of a wojak dollcreep made of her which i know exists, although i don't know who created what first or threw the first stone, but low-key that drawing of his version of viv being like "*starts slutshaming*" has truly not changed at all,)

salem also said that creepzo in mammon's magnificent special was also a wojak of him, so that might mean she's just upgraded to spending actual industry bucks on making fun of people she doesn't like. (i even remember her misgendering him in a 2020 or 2021 helluva boss stream by accident before calling salem they, and although it happens for allies, hearing him speak about repeated misgendering after he left is not a good sign,) and i haven't even mentioned she's just straight up claimed ken is an abuser, when ive yet to see even one victim of his speak up, not even an anonymous one, wheres viv has a list of people she's hurt somehow.

idk. i wish in general, the critical community cared more about the people she's burned and the continuous behavior that shows she's been doing it for awhile and hasn't truly grown or learned from it, instead of hating her just her writing something they find icky for merely existing.. in two shows about demons in hell. (rather then the execution of it, which is what pisses me off the most about the hellaverse.)

like, i get why kiwifarms wouldn't give a shit most of the time, but sometimes it feels like they do more then the critical community even does, just a little bit. seriously, i had no clue viv had made a wholeass tumblr dedicated to call-out dollcreep, which just consisted of her complaining he wouldn't text her back fast enough and acting like a victim when it seems like they were both just immature asshole kids to each other from what ive seen of their convos, and even refused to take it down for a bit when he confronted her on fb when his harassment started until i started lurking on the viv thread there.

God, you and me both, Anon. If the critical community put even a quarter of the energy they put into criticizing the writing and transferred that over to the way Viv treats other human beings (especially transmasc human beings), and the pattern of behavior that shows she's always been like this, I would sleep a little more soundly at night.

[natsmagi]

if it makes u feel better the original reason i left the enstars fandom like 5 years ago is because of how genuinely spineless everyone is about any criticality in both the main content itself or the fandom members around you. i remember specifically people would send death threats for calling out the massive amounts of scalping and price gouging for merch (idk how bad it is in current fandom, i just remember there being $70 cheapest madara nui when i left and i was just like... wow i cannot do this anymore.) i cant say how much ive been disappointed to see that trend continue with switch being written off like it is right now. enstars fandom never changes and its infuriating

youre totally fine dont worry!!

But yea omg that doesnt surprise me at all. though its shocking how consistent of an issue this has been in the enstars fandom??

like im well aware all fandom spaces suck to an extent. minimally speaking. But with enstars theres some inherent refusal to engage critically with the media. and whats so shocking is they keep CLAIMING theyre engaging with it critically to eleviate any guilt they might feel for still partaking in something actively harmful

obv im a switchP so thats my biggest form of reference, but having the tsumugi thing happen right after akatsuki and seeing people do everything in their power to try and justify it as if the akatsuki thing hadnt LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED made my jaw drop. Especially because everyone was obviously criticizing it (or well. if youre a decent enough person you were) and thats what started the whole "boycott enstars!!" thing surging.

i would see people with boycott enstars on their profiles bend over backwards defending wish and literally making shit up that is factually untrue listing zero sources and going purely off of vibes, and their posts would get hundreds if not thousands of engagements.

Even the "microcelebrities" in this fandom are doing this shit too. i dont wanna call anyone out by name but it has been so fucking disappointing. its like theres now a subsection of the enstars community thats festered into some hugbox where theyll literally just MAKE SHIT UP to justify them still enjoying/playing the game

its completely beyond me. im forever gonna love switch and im gonna keep drawing them and likely post stuff i want to share, me wanting whats best for these characters does not lessen that love even slightly. my frustrations do not mean ive now abandoned the characters that brought me so much joy. So why the hell is this fandom so afraid of criticism?? why is this fandom so scared of looking in the mirror and seeing themselves for what they really are??? you can enjoy things all you want, but where i have an issue is straight up lying to try and justify it

its honestly really scary to witness. i know i probably shouldnt make it that deep, but especially in todays political climate with how much propaganda we're constantly being forcefed and how literacy is going down, peoples only form of consumption being short-formed easy to consume clips they find online, im worried people no longer think for themselves. Or at least that thats where we're heading.

whenever i see people defend the current state of enstars, they are working completely backwards. theyre not reading into what happened prior to these changes, theyre looking for small things they can latch onto in attempts to justify it. Justifying it is the end goal, not analyzing the overarching story. theyre incapable of looking at the bigger picture

[sidewalk-dreamer]

marauders & the raven boys! my favorite codependent friendgroups!

we truly need to be talking more about the raven boys/ marauders parallels… like i’ve seen a few people mention it in passing but there is so much more there than surface level similarities u don’t get it like i do!!!! so this is me taking matters into my own hands and talking about it :) let’s look at the main four boys of each and discuss! 

(if u haven’t read the raven cycle yet do NOT read this yes i am talking to u specifically u know who u are… go read trc then come back okay ty)

james & gansey

born into comfort, into wealth, into high society. both come from intact families and neither has ever gone without love. 

incredibly naturally charismatic. they collect interesting people to themselves and then refuse to let go. they are loyal and trusting to a fault.

glasses :)

hopeless romantics but also really bad at romance… james was so annoying that lily basically hated him for years. gansey accidentally called blue a prostitute the first time they talked. and yet despite fumbling so hard, they both landed girls so far out of their league? unfair.

a bit pretentious. maybe even more than a bit. neither of them is genuinely uppity or snooty, but they know how to put their airs to use when they must.

smart without hardly even trying. school comes easy to them, but both love a challenge. james canonically spends a lot of time practicing intense, extracurricular magic. gansey tries to solve a thousand year old myth. jocks with special interests!!

also just. jocks. 

dumb as shit at times. accidentally hurt the people close to them kind of a lot, without even trying to. 

neither really knows who they are when they are alone.

the first time we meet each of them, we already know they die young <3

sirius & ronan

also born into wealth, but neither fits into it the way gansey and james do.

messy families. and not just for the drama; sirius has the whole incest thing, and ronan has the whole his-mom-was-actually-literally-dreamt-up-by-his-dad thing, which is like… messy.

they hate their brother(s), but would literally die for them.

they’d actually die for any of their friends.

both look tough and scary (and can be so when necessary), but are also just like emo nerds. they know latin for some reason.

reckless, chaotic. the type to act first and think later. will charge headlong into danger for the fun of it.

the dog thing! sirius is a literal dog at times. ronan was called gansey’s dog by kavinsky, and he neither denies nor resents the implications of that. even gansey admits kavinsky had a point there.

jealous with their friendships. they don’t want to have to share the people they love.

had massive crushes/ were like fully in love with their respective boyfriends for so long before they ever made a move. both thought they were subtle about it. literally everybody knew.

remus & adam

physically they are like… the exact same to me. too tall, too lanky, covered with freckles and scars. neither has any idea how attractive they really are.

rough childhoods, like, physically. remus dealt with transformations every month, and adam had to deal with his father’s anger every day.

the outsider. they come from a different world than the other boys, and are absolutely conscious of that fact. they care a lot more about these differences than the rest of their friends do. 

stubborn. they don’t want to accept help, they might not even know how to. vulnerability is dangerous, and admitting weakness is like admitting failure.

probably the smartest, but because they have to actually work for it. they cannot afford to fall behind. where their friends coast or simply don’t care, they work their asses off. they could thrive academically, but their circumstances make it a lot harder for them to do so.

always tired. too many bills to pay all the time.

both are pretty much literal forces of nature. remus is controlled by the moon. adam offers himself over to the control of the forest.

they each think they are unloveable. literally all their friends have had a crush on them at some point. 

peter & noah

NO IM NOT DOING THIS ONE NOT TO MY DEAREST DARLING DEAD NOAH. well… i’m kinda doing it. i don’t want to talk too much about them personality wise, bc where i am partial to a fanon peter-never-betrays-them-and-is-the-funniest-and-most-diva-of-them-all interpretation, canonically i hate him and he sucks.

there definitely can be some character similarities between them… both are furthest from the group, in a way. peter was called once more of a follower than a friend of the rest of them. noah, noah was more when he was alive. the whole ghost thing makes it hard for him to fit in at times :(

HOWEVER what i DO really want to talk about is how noah and peter are direct narrative foils !!!!!! this is my favorite thing! look at it this way:

james died because of peter’s selfishness. gansey lived because of noah’s sacrifice. 

really, the whole plot of both series is directly influenced by peter and noah. if not for peter, james wouldn’t have died. harry would never have to be known as the boy who lived. if not for noah, gansey would have died the first time. he would have stayed dead the second time.

noah, to me, is what peter could have been. we don’t know what made peter betray his closest friends; but i think it must have been out of desire for glory or honor. i mean, he was a gryffindor, but he sure as hell wasn’t brave. perhaps he got sick of living in the shadow of his friends. he can’t have betrayed them simply because he was forced to do so; he was the one who actively brought voldemort back. why would he do so, if not to try and prove that he was greater than james, than sirius, than remus? he had something he wanted to prove.

however, noah? noah accepts his non-life in the shadows. we know it hurts him, being less than when he was alive, and while he might be jealous of gansey, ronan, and adam at times, he never resents them. he makes the ultimate sacrifice when he chooses to give himself up for gansey. he quietly slipped from time, and received the opposite of honor and glory. his every memory was forgotten. but, for love of his friends, he did it anyways. he didn’t need anything, besides the knowledge that the rest of them could live. he is the best of them all.

...

wow okay! i said a lot but also not nearly enough. i could talk for so long about all these boys… also! fanon peter get behind me idc! i know i went on this whole rant about canon peter but let it be known that i can and i will reject canon whenever i like! so to me, noah is alive and well and peter is just like him. i miss them both. i miss them all!

(last little note! though there are so many similarities between each of the boys, blue is not comparable to any of the girls… she’s all her own person, she’s all blue. i think she’d like that)

[soft-persephone]

Let Me In Ch.3

Alex Cross x Fem!Reader • Dark!Terry Richmond x Fem!Reader

MDNI // WC: 1.8k // eventual explicit descriptions of sex and violence// first few chapters are tame but things get more intense as series continues // masterlist // series masterlsit //

summery: The Worst happens and it begins.

The sun decided to make an appearance, triumphantly  ending the reign of the dreary wet weather of the last couple of weeks, and on a weekend to boot. 

It had something to prove. 

The air was mildly chilly but much more tolerable in the sunlight. Everyone clamored at the chance to spend some time outside. 

Terry had sent you a message to meet, and you were anxious. You were the best, but it’s always safe to be careful no matter how skilled of an agent you may be. 

Your superiors had scheduled an immediate emergency meeting to strategize all night after you sent word of the message. 

“Agent Jasmine, we’re wrapping this mission up. After this meeting with Terry we will make an immediate decision on whether or not he is still fit to work with us.”

You nodded. 

“I don’t think that we’ve seen enough to know if he’s actually running or not. I’m still not confident on his flight risk status.”

“Your handler Amaya can give you more information on that.” Red haired boss with a thin tight smile said with a curt nod. Her bob swished with the movement. 

Handlers were a soldier's eyes and ears in the field. Sometimes called a secretary, depending on the skill level. Handlers were much more advanced for soldiers with more than one skill set. 

You had trained to be one to quickly gain Terry’s trust and monitor his behavior in ways a usual secretary  would. They see everything in a soldier’s life and can get to know them as well as a soldier can get to know themselves. They see what you do, they tell you what you’re going to do, and depending on the mission, the only person who keeps you rooted in who you actually are. 

They don’t always get to know your real name or details about your real life, but you were a special case. You’ve been doing this job since the tender age of 17.

 When you joined the organization Amaya was assigned as your handler. 

She could keep up with you, and she didn’t slow you down. Her input  at times even helps you get through missions faster, much to the agency's pleasure.

She “trained” you on the ins and outs of what she does on the computer, but as you claim, you are the best. You could do the job with minimal to no help. 

You’ve been hacking shit and stealing electronic  data of all kinds since you were 10. 

“I watch Terry when you don’t, so some things about him I know and you don’t.” Amaya gave you a look,  a coy smile gracing her features. 

You ignored her dig at you. She liked getting a rise out of you whenever she could, and you made sure it wasn’t easy, but she never showed signs of being annoyed by it, never giving up.

“His behavior has changed,”she continued. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to roll your eyes or show irritation of any kind. 

“Okay,” you nod, “and is there anything specific I get to know about this change in behavior? Am I changing my approach? How exactly is telling me this vague statement supposed to help me?” Your voice was rising a little. The more you think about how they’re handling this situation the more your emotions start to get the best of you. 

“Did any of you ever want an outcome where Terry isn’t a failure? If not, why make me go through with this mission? Why not order me to put a bullet in his head as soon as you wanted to get rid of him? Why suffer the headache when you can have what you want when you want? It’s not like I don’t serve any other purpose than for you to point and shoot me at whoever and whatever you want taken care of.” You put a hand to your head and rub your temples, you had started pacing. 

“Jasmine.” Mrs blonde boss with the smile lines and forehead said in an overly genteel voice. “We here at the organization value all of our agents as humans. You are not weapons or tools for us to do whatever we want with. You have a voice and agency, and we always love to hear the  input of our agents.”

You huff through your nose, forcing yourself to calm down.

“If Terry makes one step out of line when you meet him, we’re swarming you both and taking him in.” Mr more salt than pepper said. 

Take him in means they want to ask him questions, but they’ll probably still kill him. You can’t let it come to that. 

“So what has he been doing differently?”

“Terry has—“

“We caught him stealing records.” Mr. Salt said with a grimace, “we think he has plans to sell.”

“Some of them were about you.” Amaya. added quickly. Some of the bosses glared at her. She was definitely going to get chewed out for it, but you had gone eerily still and quiet. 

They looked more worried at you than upset at her. 

Ms. Bob’s eyes darted across your entire body frantically. Mr Salt and Pepper's eyes were glossing over with worry, his usual smug smile wavered dangerously, and Mrs. Smile lines had no poker face to face her life. Her face pulled taught with concern of how you were going to lash out, especially considering your record of behavior.

“Agent Jasmine, let’s not get too hasty and fall back into our unhealthy paranoia cycle.”

“How long has he had these files on me? My family even— because why would he stop there? Why am I just now finding out that I’m a target in whatever Terry is planning?”

“Terry might have been an independent hire from someone who wants to kill you. The CIA may want you back. We don’t know, but when we bring him in today, we will. –Now go do your damn, job” Salt and Pepper spat furiously.

You ignored him and did just that, but not for him. You stomped off without a single word. No– yes sir, no–  I'll get it done. 

You’ll get to the bottom of this yourself. 

You held a hand over your eyes as Terry made his way to where  you were on the pier. He walked steadily and surely, unhurried. He didn’t seem to look any different than he would on any other day. His stature straight and relaxed, his broad shoulders held no tension, his face pleasantly neutral. 

“Hi.” He smiled as he frankly stood in front of you, making you smile back up at him. He was slightly taller than your stranger, you had to crane your neck just a tad. 

“He— hey!” You half laugh out when he wraps his arms around you. 

He hugged you like he knew you. Was it real? Or was he putting on a show? Your mind races with the possibilities.

“W-what was that for?” Your smile wavers slightly at him, but not by much. Confusion is a normal reaction, you surmise. It wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. 

“There’s something different about you.” He says, pleased.

 He narrows his eyes as he studies you. The sun makes it hard for you to determine what color they are as it slightly blinds you both. 

“How different?” You take a step closer to him as if you did it without thinking. His voice was low. If you were an ordinary person with untrained ears you might have missed it. 

“Good different.” He places a hand onto the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheek and you close your eyes and lean into his hand. 

Your stomach drops with a heavy weight. 

Revulsion. 

No, that would be too harsh. Much too harsh of an assessment, your brain insists but you reject the thought, digging deeper. It was. . .  pain. A small tinge of loss. A microdose of grief. 

What that feeling may be is something you haven’t experienced before. Even if you can’t put into words what it is exactly you want, you know exactly what it is you don’t.. 

You want him to be touching you. 

You want tender touches and longing glances with a man you’ve only met once. Whatever closeness you wanted with Terry has . . . Changed. Not gone for good. Perhaps, you want to be his friend. 

“Hey,” he pleads gently, “look at me.” 

You open your eyes. “You’re the only one who understands. . . Who knows what it’s like.”

“What it’s like?” You tilt your head, feigning ignorance.

 Of course you knew what it was like. It was the reason you had vowed to save him. The reason you vouched for the organization to follow through with hiring him. You didn’t volunteer to actually monitor his every move once they did, but you accepted the job  eventually because anyone else would have written him off. 

He might have stolen a few files, but you know he wasn’t going to sell them. 

“To have nothing and no one.” he began to explain,  “I mean, I thought so, you do have a family out there apparently, but if you went to them, they’d be killed or worse, so I get why you would lie. You just want to protect them.”

His voice took on a tone you couldn’t  identify. It was sure, it was controlled, vindicated and filled with a purpose. . .it was frantic.

You swallowed, pursing your lips in concern. “What did you do Terry?”

You saw movement in the corner of your eye, what the fuck were they doing? . . .  but remained calm. 

They're going to spook him. If you could see them, so could he. 

“I love you.” He said softly.

 Before you could speak or move, his lips were on yours. His large hands snaking up your back and  cradling your head to his. 

Your heart, the one so swelled with a new love, shattered. You felt . . . penitent? No, but it was very similar. A sort of love induced  disappointment for your stranger. 

Please, don’t let him find out. You silently pleaded to God.

The  thought of his heart breaking hurt more than your own bursting in your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” Terry hissed hotly along your ear.

I’m sorry Cross. . . My stranger. . . Whoever you are. . .

Everything went black.

.

.

.

.

Thank You for reading! Let me know If you would like to be added to the taglist for this sereis!

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[arcadianambivalence]

IWTV S2E2 and History

One thing I really appreciate about this show is how it interacts with its historical setting. I worried that when Louis and Claudia left New Orleans last season, the show would start to shirk the historical details, but the latest episode has given me enough historical tidbits to chew on (pun intended).

Hidden behind the humor of lines like "Paris is shit" and the thrill of meeting other vampires, there's a sense of foreboding lingering beside the recent traumas.

As with the first episode of season 2, Louis and Claudia are surrounded by reminders of war, even if they do not have the context (or empathy) for the survivors they encounter. Claudia complains that she has to pick twice as many pockets to get by, but the two are still able to afford an apartment. Meanwhile, food staples and clothing are still rationed, but people and pigeons are easy to come by.

"Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time..."

Louis explains, but the scars historically ran deeper than a tourist (and Louis is The stereotypical tourist in this episode) could understand. Blackouts, food shortages, rations, soldiers, and refugees linger at the corners of the episode.

Even Madeline is introduced to us by a man warning Claudia that she was a collaborator or Nazi sympathizer (he does a subtle salute and points to the shop window), which will certainly influence how the next episodes take her through her narrative beats.

The plays performed by the Théâtre des Vampires cross 1920s to 1940s expressionism with absurdity and horror. Even after all this time, Louis is unenthused about the theatrical performances.

"The plays were weird. They always ended in death or some kind of cruel, barely motivated violence."

Armand's reply is dulled by the onstage spectacle:

"Life is cruel. Life is violent. [...] It was all a seduction to lure the cattle into a willing belief of disbelief."

It's a line that is all the more concerning if you know where the story is going...

Annika, the doomed woman onstage, is from Belgium, yet another country recovering from occupation and war. When she desperately tries to convince the audience to flee (not just for them to help her, but to save themselves), she speaks Dutch, so neither the French nor English-speaking audience members understand her.

Still in character, Santiago pretends to offer her a choice. She could live if she gives up someone to die in her place, if she, as the phrase goes, "turns someone in." First, he offers to take her husband, and she refuses. Then he offers to take her son, and again she refuses. Finally, he points to a man in the audience. She nods vigorously, but it's a cruel joke.

Santiago has already made up his mind about her. He addresses the man, warning him against trusting his neighbors:

"They'll give you up in a wink."

As if someone who spent the last five years in occupied France would need reminding.

The warning is for us, the viewers.

Later, the troupe takes Louis and Claudia to a mansion, ostensibly to eat people who, apparently, hoarded resources from the black market. Another show for Claudia and Louis, tourists who still think of themselves as the "good" vampires. Because why would a troupe of vampires concern themselves with that? They don't need anything from the black market. They don't eat anything from the black market. Where was this sense of justice in recent years?

As with Annika, it's yet another excuse to enact cruel and public violence against people they consider less than them.

So when Santiago's introductory prologue includes lines like:

"Being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals, we can [...] disrupt your tiny ship called human decency."

"Our jobs, which is at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery while you cry and scream for more."

"Everything you're about to see is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight. You are all complicit [...] I love you for it."

You know things are not going to get better for Louis and Claudia.

[leafington]

𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 .ᐟ - kei t. 📼 ; 008

For a month long tour, it seemed like nothing compared to the week long wait to get home. Her headaches converted into migraines, breakdowns now being fits of anger where evidence of it happening would be the trashed hotel room the housekeepers have to clean up. To keep herself occupied, Y/n tried to watch the posted performances of the group but seeing them express themselves on stage without her, happiness written all over their faces despite the harsh realities they push through bothers her. Why can't she have it that easy? All those years of pushing herself and it's falling short right in front of her.

The flight back was possibly the worst of it all. Rinko seemed to have some sort of stick lodged deep within her ass and whenever she was in a bad mood, it reflected onto Y/n. She refused to speak to anyone—claiming the negative energy was too much, Rinko then went around with such an attitude that put other staff in a frightened frenzy. At some point, she confronted Y/n about her ignorance and scolded her regarding the matter, going so far as to belittle her for "acting out" which sparked some exchanged glances among the staff (and a few nosy bypassers) at the gate. New seating arrangements were made in order to reduce any further arguments and conflict.

Having returned to Japan, things were bitter between the head workers and Y/n, everyone had their own take on her outburst and Rinko's response to it—some better than others. The staff at the company held a little surprise for Y/n where her, Yuki, Hoshi, and Cyuti could have a break for the rest of the week, giving them time to reconnect, and essentially get Y/n out of this headspace of hers.

The group hung out in the main room of their shared home, babbling about how the release went and all the performances they did. Y/n listened, but not actively, she appeared out of it. The only one to catch onto this was Cyuti, who then nudged Yuki to speak up. "Everything alright, babes?" She moved from her spot next to Hoshi, plopping next to the dazed woman. "Yeah... tired. I think." Y/n rubs the corner of her eyes, easily dimming the mood. "I'm fine, really. I'm proud of you all, you guys did amazing out there." She tries to lighten it up, but the fire she's sparking just keeps dying.

"... What happened? They updated us on the tour, how are you feeling?" Cyuti crosses her legs, inching her way into the circle. "Did Rinko give you a hard time?" Hoshi laid her own head on Cyuti's shoulder. "I don't know. Everything was just so... chaotic. I wasn't feeling well, I started missing you guys, the critical feedback. And between Rinko and Itsuki... not to mention Tsukishima." She listed off, muttering the man's name quietly. Cyuti groans at the name and almost walked off of it weren't for Hoshi holding her down. "I blew up at Rinko last night because she kept giving me shit about me wanting to keep my space and... I just got irritated." The three girls just sit in silence, taking in their friend's words. Hoshi—given knowing her the longest—empathized with her and scooted over to hug Y/n. "Do I even wanna know how Tsukishima contributed to this?" Cyuti leans back in her spot, an eyebrow quirked up.

"I don't know what the hell he's got going on, he wants me to meet up with him today, but I'm scared to. All we've done is argue over the phone, there's just so much happening. I don't know what to do." Y/n rants, glancing over at her phone for a quick time check. It's five in the afternoon, he should be done with practice right about now. "What do you know?" Yuki jokes, only for it to backfire.

"I know I'm exhausted, Yuki." She emphasizes, covering her face anxiously. Her head's been filled with so much in only a month, she knew what all this consisted of when she signed her contract and yet firmly believed she could still hold a normal life when she did.

A pregnant pause coats them all, their thoughts all unified but no one exactly sure if what they should say is appropriate. They want the best for Y/n seeing as she's the youngest, and it's their job to be there for one another, but can they do that if their suggestion directly affects not only their career, but them as well.

⋆｡˚🪼🫧˚｡⋆

The summer breeze is brutal against her body, pushing her in all sorts of directions while waiting for Tsukishima. He'd checked in on her earlier to confirm she was actually going to be there, later sending her their meetup spot. She'd left her phone with Hoshi (before praying that she didn't break it) and set off. In the distance of the early evening, she spots the male grabbing some vendor food and positions herself beside him.

"Took you long enough." He squints to read the items on the small-printed menu. "Had to settle in. I flew in this morning." She glances at her watch before peeking over at the menu herself. "How're you feeling?" Tsukishima questions, pointing to some shaved ice after finally being able to see that tiny ass font. "Better than the last few weeks." She shrugs off, ordering some water for herself. "That's good. Can't have you passin' out on me." They both stand off to the side, Tsukishima waiting for his own order.

It's quiet, nothing awkward, at least on his end. Y/n just wanted to get this over with, lay down, enjoy her time off, relax for a change and—"Has opening up to people always been hard for you? Or is it just me?" He breaks her thoughts, glancing down at his feet. "Not really. Just guys who ignore me." Clearly whatever bitterness she had earlier carried over. Tsukishima bites his tongue, not wanting to make the situation any worse than it already was. "Only because you stood me up, but this isn't about that."

"I'm not working against you here, take my word for it or not, but whatever you're juggling, I want to help. I know you have a good support system, Yachi told me, and... I guess I wanna be apart of that." He mumbles the last bit, scratching his neck. "I'm willing to take whatever punishment comes with being with you. Dont forget you're not the only one with fans and followers." That bit makes Y/n scoff, she's not oblivious. "People have died, you know? From this kind of thing. 'm not comparing but it gets extremely bad in my field." This makes him scoff in return, he's not oblivious either.

"Good thing one of us is mentally stronger for that then. I can protect you, in fact I want to, if you'll let me. Is that so hard to believe? That someone genuinely cares and isn't just saying that to get into your pants?" Her head whips in his direction and the smuggest look is on his face. "Unless that's what you want, I can do that too." Tsukishima jokes, and it does get a short laugh out of her, before she shakes her head in disbelief.

The vendor calls out his order, he steps from her side to retrieve the both of their items, handing her her water. "I've grown out of that actually, I actually took my job seriously after all that." They walk ahead to find an empty bench. "Just a suggestion. I'm serious about being there for you though. You don't have a choice." He nudges her lightly, and she dramatically pretends to be hurt. "Damn, aggressive much?" Y/n rubs her arm.

They talk a little more, formally exchanging apologies for their angrily sent messages and having her inform him on every little bit of her travels, even the not-so fun bits. Like he said, Tsukishima listened to every part of her rant down to the letter, leaving them out there for god knows how long just talking, observing, listening. After they finish up with their mini-date, she's in a much better mood than she was before, and she's greatly convinced that this could work out for them.

And so was he.

ᐟᐟ☆ fun facts 🥂

₊ ⊹ none!! (other than the fact that this took WAY longer than it shouldve)

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play the next tape? ──── yes. / previous.

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©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[thejujvtsupost]

Hello! This is my first time ever asking for a request 😭 I’m pretty shy but id like to request GetoxF!reader with smut where the reader is a new student/strong sorcerer and catches Getos attention

Weak to Sunshine

Hi anon! I love this idea sm 😌 okay technically I like anything with Geto but that’s beside the point.

Notes: F!reader, both Geto and reader are teachers and oblivious, Geto is mean at first but dw it’s just because he’s a little dumb, smut, oral (f receiving), light fluff, cocky attitudes lead to porn.

Geto wasn’t easy to surprise, but your sheer power was amazing. He’d prefer not to be on the receiving end of it ever again.

He was aware there was a new teacher and he didn’t go out of his way to welcome you the way others Gojo did.

When you tried to say hello to him in the hallway he acknowledged you with a grunt and nothing else. Gojo told you he was too grumpy all the time, that it probably wasn’t anything you did. So you still made sure to include him, inviting him to the activities you often did with Shoko and Gojo, saving space for him at lunch.

It wasn’t that he hated you or anything- quite the opposite. You had a sunshine personality, a soft demeanor and made students feel good about themselves, you were naturally caring. He valued people like that and found it adorable admirable.

But he didn’t understand why you were there. He had yet to see you spar (if he went outside once in a while he would see you training the kids every day) and you didn’t exude power the way other sorcerers did. If he wasn’t aware ahead of time, he would never have thought you were a sorcerer. So Geto, as nice as you seem and pretty as you were (wait, pretty?), didn’t think you could teach the students enough to be helpful- do you really belong there? And when Shoko was telling him he should be nicer to you, that every time you were around he grew quiet, he voiced his concerns. After all it was only Shoko.

Or he thought it was.

You went looking for her, intending to see if she wanted to get lunch together and you heard her voice down the hall.

You swear you weren’t eavesdropping. You knocked on the door frame but the pair didn’t acknowledge you, and when you walked inside you immediately wished you hadn’t.

“All I’m saying is if she can’t be valuable to the kids or the school then she shouldn’t be here. Her energy is so weak, she couldn’t overpower a first year. Seems pretty reliant on Gojo too. What use does the school have for someone that can’t train them? All she ever does is smile like a puppy, she makes the kids happy but do they even take her seriously?”

“She goes out just as often as Gojo for the hard curses. She picks up your slack and your missions, always saying she doesn’t mind helping out since you refuse to go anywhere. She can repress her energy dipshit. That’s mean Suguru, even for-” Shoko didn’t get to finish her sentence.

“So that’s what you think of me?” You could hear your voice crack. “You hate me because you think I’m weak? You really think I’m nice because I can’t do anything else?”

“Look I’m just trying to say…”

“I fucking heard what you said, you got your panties in a bunch because I know how to repress my energy! That’s pathetic. It’s not your job to evaluate my attitude or my work performance when I’m the one doing your shit on top of mine you lazy ass. What do you do all day while I risk my life to do your job for you?” Shoko decided it would be best to back away slowly. Standing in the doorway behind you was safer than between two angry sorcerers.

Gojo ended up standing beside her when he heard the commotion- you were both lucky the students weren’t around right now.

Geto’s fists clenched at his sides where he stood in an attempt to calm himself, “You have no idea what Gojo and I have done for this school, you have no right to call me-”

“Heyyy buddy maybe you shouldn’t-” Gojo went unheard and Shoko just put a hand in front of him to let you two work it out. If he intervened it only made you look like you couldn’t handle yourself.

“Oh fuck Gojo, you know he has nothing to do with this! You’re using him as a crutch for your excuses-”

“Oh so that’s it? It makes sense now. You’re fucking Gojo, no wonder he thinks so highly of you, or maybe lowly of you, I’m not in your bedroom.”

That’s when all hell broke loose. You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat and tried to hold back your tears. You wanted to hit him, it would’ve been more satisfying.

“Fuck you, Geto.” Instead, you raised your hand out from your body and blasted him through the wall of his classroom and into the courtyard. For the first time in a long time, you were happy it was pouring rain.

Once again Gojo and Shoko were ignored, you stomped past them and left for your office. You were gone before Geto could see your tears. You were sick of everyone treating you like that; being able to control your energy output was an advanced skill that most people didn’t have. You were strong. There was more to your life than being a sorcerer, being in control was an advantage to maintaining that.

And more than anything you were hurt. A little humiliated that the person you really liked thought you were a floozy and not to mention it was more than obvious he didn’t care to know you. What he actually thought of you hurt the most. You didn’t expect him to like you the way you liked him, but you at least wanted to be friends.

Shoko shook her head and went back to work, “Karma.”

“Oof- that’s gonna hurt for a few days!” Gojo approached Geto sitting in the rain and mud.

“Shut up Satoru.”

“Hmm nope! That was kinda mean of you but damnnnn she threw you like thirty feet. For someone so short she’s got a lot of fire in her.” Gojo wasn’t one to contain his teasing, this wasn’t an exception. If anything it was a golden opportunity to make fun of him for years to come. He took several selfies, some with a peace sign and they all had Geto’s soaked, irritated face. “Oh by the way, we’re not fucking. She’s cute buuuut not my type, and I’m not her type either. She has feelings for, well maybe not now, someone else; it’s much more of a brother/sister type of thing. So there’s no need to be jealous.”

Jealous? “I’m not jealous!” But who the hell did you have feelings for?

“That’s exactly what a jealous person would say! You should probably apologize if you want her to talk to you ever again, though you’ll be lucky is she does.” He waved and left Geto on his own, he’d be fine.

Since then you’ve avoided him. When you couldn’t, you ignored him. When you had to speak of him you were back to calling him Geto. You no longer tried to say hello or talk to him (it was nice of you, though he always gave you vague responses). You didn’t invite him to things. Actually, you didn’t go out or eat lunch with your friends at all these days. Always saying you felt sick or tired, letting them drag you places but staying home otherwise. Your insecurities were getting the best of you because even though you had no proof, what if the others didn’t actually see you as a teacher? What if they thought you were as weak as Geto did? Maybe not Shoko or Gojo, but you were careful with your own cursed energy, had been since you were a teenager. Much like Gojo’s infinity, it was second nature.

At first he thought you were being ridiculous. By week nine he was trying to actively engage with you. To no avail.

The break room was cold, the spaces you used to be were empty and he found himself missing your warm disposition, who’d thought he’d miss you calling his first name excitedly inviting him to sit with you guys. His friends didn’t mention you and when he tried to ask why you weren’t sitting with them, they gave him a dirty look. Gojo sighed, “Ah. She doesn’t really do lunch these days, at all anymore.”

Shoko enjoyed adding some guilt, rubbing salt into the wound. “She chose to step back so you could hang out with your best friends because ‘you were here first.’ She sits in her office alone and refuses to let us take her out after work unless we drag her. The students know she’s unhappy too, you should be grateful she hasn’t said anything like a professional because those kids would eat you alive- especially the first years. If they found out you’re the reason she’s putting in a transfer request for Kyoto they’d be devastated. All she’s said to us is that she wants to start fresh and act more professional- that she wants to be someone taken seriously like everyone else- except for Gojo. No one takes him seriously.” Gojo’s protest was background noise to Geto. “She looked up to you Suguru, she tried to be your friend and get to know you. Still she doesn’t bad mouth you even though it’s justified, she hasn’t even blamed you- she’s serious about it.”

“I figured she was just busy…” You looked up to him? He thought you were friendly but he must not have been paying enough attention, you wanted to know him. Him. Guilt flooded him like a tsunami.

“Clearly you thought wrong.” Shoko snapped at him and the rest of their lunch was silent.

Enough was enough, he needed to find a way to make it up to you. Fuck, he missed you.

So he tried to say hi to you every day.

You only nodded at him to be polite in front of others, professional.

He brought you fresh coffee to your now dreary classroom before you ran off to your office. When had you taken your colorful posters down? Where did your little desk ornaments go?

it went untouched.

Every attempt was denied.

It wasn’t until you were stuck in your office far past after hours, waiting out the rain that just wasn’t letting up- that he was able to talk to you.

He was finally able to leave and he was happy to but he noticed your office light was on.

Right, you don’t drive and everyone, including Ijichi already left; you wouldn’t bother him even though he’d happily come get you. (You happened to be one of his favorites.)

He knocked on your door and got no response, so he opened the door to check if you were actually there.

Oh god, you were. But you were asleep at your desk. He closed the door behind him and crouched down at your side. He knew he was tall, waking you up standing over you wasn’t a good way to start a conversation. “Hey, c’mon you can’t sleep here.” He kept his voice low and was gentle when he nudged your shoulder and rubbed your arm.

You mumbled something he couldn’t understand before blinking your eyes open and looking at him. “You gotta go home, your desk can’t be comfortable.” It was the first time you looked at him in weeks, he hated the dark circles under your eyes that weren’t as bright as they used to be- how they should be.

“Whatever. You can’t tell me what to do. And not that’s it’s any of your business since we’re professionals, but I am staying here.” You hid a yawn behind your hand and sat upright, rubbing the crick in your neck did little to soothe the ache.

Geto wasn’t good at apologizing but with the way you avoided him like it plague it was now or never. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that. Everyone thinks you’re a great teacher. Shoko said you’re trying to transfer to Kyoto, but you just got here.”

You wanted to ignore him again, you wanted to throw him out of your office and sleep on your couch with the throw blanket you were grateful you kept on the back cushions. But he struck a nerve and your lip wobbled, “Doesn’t matter. You said it yourself people don’t take me seriously here, if I go to Kyoto they won’t think I’m a pushover there. It’ll open up a job for someone else who can help better than I can.” You were doing everything you could to hold yourself together, going as far as wrapping your arms around your midsection for comfort. “Thanks for apologizing but you said your piece and I said mine so can you go? I really just want to sleep right now.”

“I was wrong. You’re not a pushover. I don’t let people in easily and I took you for granted and then I got jealous and lashed out.” Ah shit, he said too much. But if being honest might get you to stay then he might as well go for it.

“Jealous?” You sounded so small and tired- it hurt his heart.

“I thought…” he tipped his head back with a groan. “You can make fun of me if you want after this, it’s dumb and not my business anyway. But I thought you were interested in Gojo and it irritated me. The more I saw you two together the more I wanted to block you out-” he stopped when we started giggling. Your tears spilled over and he didn’t know if you were crying because you were laughing or not. “You could’ve at least waited until I left I room to laugh but I suppose I deserve it.”

You shook your head and tried to get yourself under control. “No- no it’s not that. You’re just an idiot, I was-” you had to take another few breaths before you started giggling again. “I was hanging out with Shoko and Gojo so much because we’re friends and they knew I had feelings for you. Oh god this is hilarious.”

He pulled your hand into his, “You really mean that?”

You nodded and finally regulated your breathing. It was enough for him. He leaned up and kissed you.

Your surprised squeak made him smile against your lips and then you were kissing him back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him more- when you broke apart he was holding your face in his hands and wiping away your remaining tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being an ass. I’m sorry you were the one picking up my slack and I’m sorry I made you stop smiling- I really miss your smile.”

“Really?” The upturn of your lips, though not a full smile, already made him feel warmer than he had in weeks.

“Really, it’s like sunshine. You look like you haven’t been sleeping for a while though, you’re a little zombie.”

You snorted a little laugh, it made him smile. “I’ve been working on ways to improve my teaching and looking for apartments in Kyoto. Do you know how hard it is to find an apartment in Kyoto on a teacher’s salary? It’s hard to relax.”

“Poor baby,” you could tell he wasn’t mocking you, he really felt bad and wanted to make it better. He stood and lifted you onto your desk- the change of position made you dizzy. How did he do that so fast? “How about you stop looking for apartments and I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed both of your cheeks before trailing them down your jaw and neck.

It lit you on fire, “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll make it up to you good.” His hand laid on your upper thigh and gently started pushing your skirt up. “This okay? I’ll stop no problem if you want.”

You were already squirming for him. A tall, strong man you had feelings for, who you just made up with, who could crush you like a grape was between your legs and wanted to make it up to you. Why would you ever say no? “Please don’t stop?” You sounded more desperate than you’d like but it spurred him on.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he asked; he picked you up, sat you on the couch and got on his knees in front of you.

“What’re you doing I thought-” oh god.

He lifted your skirt to your waist and massaged along your thighs until he reached the edge of your panties, he played with the lace and looked up at you for permission with his blown pupils, he needed you so badly.

You nodded at him to continue and he was fast. You barely had to lift your hips before you were bare, Geto spread your legs and you had a flash of insecurity.

“Fuck you’re so pretty down here, so wet f’me.” He looked entranced by the sight of you. Insecurity waved.

He didn’t hesitate to hold your thighs in place and duck his head to give the first hint of pleasure to your clit, he moaned almost louder than you did. You heard him mutter something like “fuck” before he attacked himself to your cunt, eating like he’d been starved his entire life.

It was embarrassing how fast you were on the edge, you tried to push his head back but he growled. “God, m’already worked up. Gonna cum too soon.” Your face was red from the stimulation and the mortification.

“Not too soon-” he got distracted and went back to eating you out until you nudged him again. “I want it, s’mine, let me have it. Need to feel you cum- fuck ya later I just need to taste you so bad fuck…”

You didn’t disturb him again, he held onto you tighter when you started shaking. He slipped a finger into you and found your sensitive spot. You were so tight and wet for him it was driving him crazy.

“Suguru! Gonna- gonna!”

He didn’t let up at all, insistently licking and sucking your clit, rubbing you perfectly from the inside- you clamped your thighs around his head and came harder than you could ever remember.

The finger withdrew after a minute, letting you ride your orgasm out with something to clench on. His mouth however, didn’t stop. Careful to avoid overstimulating you, he cleaned you up with his own tongue.

Your body was boneless, dead weight and ready to fucking sleep but that wouldn’t be fair. You reached out for him and he held your hand in his clean one. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes were closed but you just knew he was looking at you concerned. “W’about you?”

It took him a minute to realize what you meant and he chuckled, “No baby, I was making it up to you remember?” You were too tired to remember.

You shook your head and he adjusted your skirt to pull it down. “Let me clean up and I’ll take you home, yeah?”

“Too tired, don’t want y’too leave.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you alone, you’re coming with me. I got a comfortable bed and a big tub for a soak with your name on it. Hold onto me again, I’ll carry you.”

You held onto him like a koala while he grabbed your purse and coat, draping it over you to keep you warm. The rain finally came to a drizzle, it was good timing on Mother Nature’s part.

After he grabbed his own keys he had you buckled in the passenger seat with the seat heater on blast. He didn’t like that you were shivering.

Geto was more than happy. Not only were you canceling your transfer, you were his now.

In his heart, he knew deep down Gojo was going to tease him relentlessly.

Worth it.

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

[blood-grove]

(Pup) Kid stuck in tree

dog!ghost + child!reader

662 words

tw; none

summary; humans little blunt claws can get them anywhere (maybe we should buy locks or chop down trees)

God fucking damn it.

What is with his weird human thing and getting into places they shouldn't be.

First off, They fucking somehow ended up in the garage and on top of one of the highest shelves almost all of Nik's things strewn about on the floor all because Price had revoked some of there toys.

Another thing apparently humans even when there as young as Pup are very clever and are quick to find out where they hid the sweets he remember Gaz's tired expression in the early morning as he dragged them back to there room by the scruff Pup later on getting a scolding. And now Ghost felt like he should give up now,

Staring up into the tree that the fucking pup had gotten themselves into, How? He didn't fuckin' know but they were stuck whimpering like a newborn as he sighed trotting over.

"How the hell did you climb this.." Ghost groaned as he looked around the tree looking for some possible way they used there blunt little claws and flat feet to get up there. "I- I don't knoww-" You whined sniffling as you clung onto the thick branch refusing to look down trembling.

Ghost sighed heavily as he got a good look at where they were as he propped himself up on his hind legs front ones supporting himself against the tree taking a moment to consider his options,

He could one go and get anyone fucking else to deal with this,

Two leave them there (Heh),

And three have pity on the idiotic Pup and help them down..somehow.

Two sounds pretty good.

So why was he climbing the tree claws digging into the tough bark using the stronger branches to help his ascend pulling himself onto the branch they had clung too rolling his eyes ever so slightly flinching as they let go of the branch and clung onto me.

"T-Thank you!-"

"Don't thank me we haven't even gotten down.." "Oh"

Yeah to say the least he didn't plan this out well he had no idea how he'd guide them down maybe carry them? No they were almost as heavy as e was the added weight would make any grip he had.

To say the least he was thoroughly embarrassed as Gaz let up the self rising ladder, In other news Soap was also in the tree with them now daft bastard had gotten spooked his excuse for coming up and getting stuck as well (also for adding pressure to the branch Ghost doubt could hold much) was that we looked like two giant cats and not wanting a repeat of what happened back a few months ago he had to check first.

I think I may retire I'm getting to old for this shit Pup was at least more grateful than Soap both of them were basically children.

Thought it was nice to see a little drawing of him with a cape at his door the next morning, He tucked it away in his drawer and he stretched getting on with his 'absurd' early morning routine no one should be awake really other than Price but all he found was Pup in the main room asleep having clearly tried to stay awake long enough to see him if the several drawings on him were a clue.

Picking Pup up was relatively easy trying not to wake them as he carried them by the scruff back to there bed pulling the covers over them and the extra ones too the lack of fur always made them worry about the upcoming winter months they'd been having special clothes made for them of course but that was a surprise.

What also was a surprise was Pups arms wrapping around him gently mumbling about staying, Which he thought about and said no.

Laying down as they lightly hugged him it didn't take much for them to fall asleep entirely.

Maybe he could sleep in for another hour.

[alliminoobers]

Rook Ask Game once again!

Answers to the asks given over here! Thank y'all for the asks!

1. Did Rook have any crushes within their faction before they left with Varric? @bubblecat-co

A small part of me wants to say they had a small crush on Neve from seeing her one single time. 

I lied, they totally had a crush on Neve briefly from seeing her just once.

2. Is your Rook allergic to anything? @vishantikaffar

They are allergic to bullshit.

No, the only thing they are sensitive towards is gingerwort and pollen, with pollen sometimes making them accidentally use magic when sneezing.

4. What movie genre would they like best? @apothe-cary

Comedy or romance. I can’t elaborate on this lol, they would just love those genres.

5. Favorite Season? Why? @i-creatied-au

Spring, it has a decent temperature between hot and cold. (Even if hot temperatures don’t bother them as they simply use their ice magic to cool themselves down.) They also love seeing flowers wake up after winter.

7. Favorite type of jewelry? (Rings/Necklaces/Bracelets) @tiravi

Rings.

Necklaces make them feel like something is gonna choke them and bracelets is too close to cuffs. But rings are more versatile, also, it can give a difference when you punch someone.

8. What is your Rook’s favorite animal? @booksncatsworld

Cats, no doubt about it. But they also do really like snakes and dragons as well but cats are the top 1.

9. Pick a song from their playlist. What is it, and what made you choose it? @wickedadaar

Teach Me To Fight - YONAKA

If you read the lyrics, you can easily see that a lot of it fits Shirevas quite closely. Quite bold and at times aggressive, refusing to back down, and to skip all the small talk and bullshit.

16. Would your Rook make a good villain? @teamtakagi

This actually depends. With how they are in general, they wouldn’t really make a good villain, they would be far too nice.

But if we take away the positive aspects, they would be a terrifying villain. Very singular minded and analytical, they would most likely be very sadistic and creative, and you would most likely not expect them. They would also be far more ruthless and brutal, not giving a shit what others think.

18. Your Rook discovered a portal to another fictional world. Where did they end up? (And how screwed are they?) @zennihilation

Okay, I was thinking they could end up in Star Wars, depending on the specific era in star wars, they have different chances of being screwed. Any era that has the Republic in control would most likely be the easiest for them. But any era with the Empire in control would be harder because of their pro-slavery and anti-alien tendencies (shirevas would be seen as an alien cuz they’d be mistaken for Sephi or any other of the elven looking aliens in that universe. Another aspect would be post-order 66 era which would most likely have them prosecuted as their magic would be seen as having Force abilities. 

19. How easy is it to get your Rook out of bed in the morning? @larknnightingale

This depends on who the person getting them out of bed is, close friends and/or lovers would have the easiest time but it would still be hard. In general they don’t really sleep much and usually take naps instead but if they do sleep a full night, you will have to almost near bribe them out of bed.