#yeah I have hardly any idea at all what happens in the first movie

[astonmartingf]

FALLING FOR YOU ; MV1

max verstappen x reader

. . . in his own little way, max finds the solutions to his problems not without a little help from his friends and ends up giving you the confession of a lifetime

amgf yeah... there's this, just fluff. i won't be as active this week because of exams and research but this is prime time of my impulsive ideas so either i can milk this opportunity to write every single day, or avoid this app for the remainder of the week. enjoy 👍

Max strives for stability. 

He enjoys the same routine that consists of jogging at eight am, early morning workout by nine am, brunch, a few rounds of sim racing, stopping by for a few phone calls and online meetings. If he isn’t expected to fly anywhere else he’d have his usual afternoon snack, play with his cats, more sim racing from six to eight pm, dinner with his team, reviewing data and notes, an hour for his own leisure— mostly sim racing, before heading to bed at one am.

Whatever happens in between is usually one of Lando’s plans in an attempt to spice things up in his life. Whether it’s going to the movies, buying ice cream at the convenience store down the street, or playing padel. Max is very much thankful for his friends.

Max also strives for the best.

He takes pride in his skills in racing and acknowledges his talent, and flaws. Honing them like a sharp knife through whetstones, he polishes himself and cuts through the defenses of the grid. He is a World Champion for a reason, and with a great car and team behind him, he knows they’ll get far. Max is very much thankful for the trust his team set upon him.

Max hates uncertainty. 

Well- hate is too strong of a word and dislike would be too weak for his opinions. 

Max despises uncertainty.

Especially when there’s you- the current root of all his “problems”. Despite his tendency to be blunt and straightforward statements, uncertainty always left a distasteful feeling in his mouth. 

Realizing that his wavering feelings for you have now shattered the routine he built to perfection. Long gone are sleeping on time and hello to staying up with you crowding his thoughts. Head full of the lingering scent of your perfume and the same voice playing in his head.

Max hated it. He despised how you orbit around his mind, bouncing through the walls of the gray matter inside his skull. He often catches himself smiling at the thought of you- before a bitter scowl fills his face and an incredulous and slightly constipated look pasted on his face.

But that was the least of his worries, such feelings could be fixed (a term he used to convince himself these are temporary). It’s not that Max doesn’t believe in relationships or think it’s nothing but a distraction, deep inside he’s aware that he craves affection. It’s the vague emotions clouding his heart making him think twice.

Then again, Max is thankful for his friends. 

“What did you say?” Lando squinted his eyes in the hopes to hear his words clearly. With a blank look- almost as if he put on a mask void of emotions Max spoke once more.

“Do I like YN?” 

The rest tilted their head to the side, in confusion. “D-did you perhaps ask us. . . if- if you like someone?” George, asked once more to make sure of his words, sighing in disbelief.

“It’s not just someone, it’s YN.” Max pushed the question once more and glanced at everyone on the table.

The silence was deafening. Max’ statement was too loud and too quiet at the same time, no one spoke and they left each other contemplating on the next words he will say.

“I need help. How do I know I like YN?” Collective gasps were heard throughout and one by one they slowly left the group of friends on the table leaving Max with Lando and George.

“How about we sleep over your question and. . .think— think about it you know?” Lando, the first to talk regarding the revelation that their stoic friend has now developed feelings for someone.

“Sleep? I hardly get any sleep these nights. I want to confirm my feelings now so I can finally sleep peacefully.” 

That’s when the pair noticed the bags under his eyes, mostly due to the lack of sleep like he said. Lando took a glance at George and started to talk telepathically at each other.

George sighs before pushing Max from his seat, “You see Max these feelings can’t be confirmed in a night, these requ-”

“It’s been weeks, George, I can’t lose sleep over such a trivial matter.” Max retorted with a firm stance using his lack of sleep as a front to confirm his feelings.

“Okay, first of all feelings are not a trivial matter. They are valid, and whatever is going on in your head about YN shouldn’t be taken lightly. Not because we’re curious but because we care about your emotional well being.” Lando spoke in a serious voice which only added on to Max’ confusion.

Feelings are not a big deal, at least not for him.

“And we're curious as to why you like YN.” George chimed as he followed the pair outside the room.

“Yes we’re curious but now how about I give you some romance books that you can study and read. Only you can confirm your feelings Max, let’s stop by my room and I’ll give you books you can read and next week- next week we’ll talk about this matter again.”

Lando now sounds like a mom scolding his child for misbehaving, dragging the latter to his room and sending him off with a tower of romance books.

Max is smart, he can understand such concepts by himself.

Feeling accomplished, Lando glanced at George smirking at him before walking away with Max to his apartment.

Max on the other hand went inside his room and began to bury himself in the books he brought along. “If I’m not sleeping at least I get my feelings in line.”

One chapter. And another turns to five and in the blink of an eye a week has passed. Max returned to his routine but instead of sleeping at one he pushed it to an even later hour to make time for reading which helped him sleep.

The first nights were hard, after finishing a chapter of the book he finds himself falling asleep and now you appear to become more vivid in his mind. Invading his dreams as romantic scenarios play on repeat while Max mindlessly sleeps which results in him waking up flustered and warm.

Passing by you on the paddock became frequent; it's as if the universe has its way to bring you together. Now everywhere Max looked there was you, in the corner of his sight you occupied a chunk of his thoughts and as much as he hated to admit he found himself anticipating your presence.

By the end of the week you managed to invade his thoughts and heart which only strengthened his theory and confirmed his feelings for you. With no time to waste, Max went to look for you. The second practice was over, he’s telling you what you’re doing to him.

With new found information from the team about your whereabouts, Max made his way to the hospitality locating where you’re assigned he opens the door abruptly to see you preparing food. You stand straight feeling the intimidating aura around him, you watch him exhale a sigh of relief before talking a large step in your direction. On instinct you back away giving him space, every step Max takes is a step backward from you.

Unknowingly your feet hit the corner of the marble countertop and like a cliché scene Max remembers from the books he’s been reading you stumble backwards.

Max is a racer for a reason, and with swift reflexes he managed to catch your fall and brought you up to your feet. “You should watch where you’re going. I don’t want you falling just like how I fell for you.”

Silence. Complete, utter silence from the both of you paired with the low buzz of the booming air conditioner right near you. You blink your eyes incredulously, “What?”

“I mean. . . I do want you to fall for me, it would be sad to find out that my feelings are one-sided. But I mean my words YN.”

You adjust your posture and back away. “What are the words Max? About me falling to the ground or you. . . you f- falling for me?” Your voice thins out at the end unsure of what you just heard.

“Both. I don’t want you to fall, it’s dangerous just like how you did to me. You enamored me with those charms, I just want to know how you did it.” Max spoke with the most bored and plain looking face he could muster up. His palms were sweating inside his pockets in extreme nervousness.

“Is this- is this your confession perhaps?” You try to piece things together, like the subtle clues Lando and George have been leaving out of nowhere.

“Yes. This is my confession.” Max blurts out as sweat drips from the side of his forehead. And just as he was losing hope from this failed confession your bubbly laugh bursts the silence in the air.

“You know, you need to work on your confession more. That was unlike any other, but I understand what you mean. Do you want me to fall for you, Maxie?” 

Max stares at you and you don't miss the soft gaze he set upon you. You note the light blush spread around the apples of his cheeks as his eyes light up the moment you called his name. The once awkward silent air was now filled with a warm feeling that spread all over your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

“I do. I fell for you, I like you, and I want to mean something to you.”

His way with words caught you off guard, Max Verstappen, who would’ve thought. You smile at him, this time it’s you walking towards his direction.

Max stiffened at the proximity between the two of you, his feet stuck to the floor preventing him from backing away. Your face gets closer to his and all the thoughts clouding his mind have been wiped away.

You face him and whisper something in his ear before walking away towards the kitchen at the back, legs shaking and breaths heavy. 

Taking a moment to himself Max meditates in an attempt to calm his bouncing heart, legs shaking as if they ran a hundred miles, and his mind whirring into different ideas and possibilities.

Max never falls- literally and figuratively.

Yet you managed to be the root of all his problems. The person who made him fall, there was no doubt that Max fell and will still be falling for you.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Even If It's a False God, We'd Still Worship This Love

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 9

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

7k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of drinking, some drunken spiciness, family teasing, very brief uses of my terrible Spanish, lots and lots of pining, angst, Roy is an idiot

A/N: There's a couple of Selena songs in this chapter. I highly recommend these covers, especially while reading!

-I Could Fall in Love

-Dreaming of You

Roy glanced up over the top of his book across the plane. She was curled up in her seat, eyes fixated on the notebook in her hands. They’d both been sleepy as they boarded the plane early that morning, not saying much to each other as they settled in and accepted water bottles from the lone flight attendant.

Initially, the ‘couple’ had sat side-by-side, with the singer dozing off quickly, her head nestled on Roy’s shoulder; he'd heard her get up well past their agreed upon bedtime to go work at her piano until some ungodly hour. While she dozed, Roy reflected on the night before, on the feeling of his breath skimming over her bare skin. Even that brief, barely there contact had been enough to send Roy reeling for the rest of the night. Had she felt his kiss (if he could even call it that)? What was she thinking? Why hadn’t she said anything?

And what the fuck was wrong with Roy?

Eventually, she stirred, offering Roy a sheepish grin when she realized she’d been using him as a pillow. Some little part of him wanted to assure her she was fine, she could sleep on him whenever she wanted, hell she could lean on him while she was awake if she wanted. He was half tempted to wrap an arm around her and tug her back to himself- and not for the benefit of the flight attendant who smiled knowingly at the pair.

Instead, Roy watched as the singer had settled herself in a window seat across the jet, scribbling furiously and hardly paying any attention to Roy. Roy, meanwhile, had hardly absorbed a word of his book. He wondered what she was writing and, more importantly, who she was writing about. Curiosity, he assured himself as his eyes darted back to the words currently swimming on the page. It was simple curiosity. Same thing that made him try to kiss her neck. He cringed internally at the memory.

“What’s up with you?”

Oh shit. Maybe his cringe wasn’t completely internal. “Fuck d’you mean?” Roy grumbled, trying to act like his usual aloof self, the self he realized he had been acting like less and less lately.

She cocked her head at him. “You’re making this weird face.” She smirked. “Dreading having to meet my folks, Kent?”

Alright. So, either she had no idea he’d tried to kiss her, or she decided to pretend it never happened. Either way, Roy decided to shift focus. “What’re you working on over there, sunshine? Something about me?” He hoped his voice was light and teasing; ever since their holiday at the lake, he was desperate to get back to that joking, playful place they’d finally gotten to.

Even though her eyes went wide and she clutched the notebook to her chest, Roy definitely caught the way the corner of her mouth ticked upwards. “No previews,” she chucked. “But when this one’s done…” Her gaze turned warm. “You’ll be the first one to hear it, Roycito.”

~

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced across the backseat at Roy. During our flight, he’d been content to read and watch movies; in between, he’d teased me about whatever I was writing and tried to sneak peeks. Now, he sat facing the window of the SUV that had picked us up at the airport, fingers drumming on his good knee. As if he could feel my gaze, he glanced over at me and cocked an eyebrow.

“All good, sunshine?”

Hmm, I thought sarcastically, let’s see. You gave me a thoughtful gift and tried to kiss my neck, didn’t say a word about it and then accused me of not liking your admittedly super sweet and gorgeous ex-girlfriend. You’re about to meet my entire family, and oh, yeah, I am desperately in love with you. Yeah, everything’s definitely all good, Kent.

Instead of blurting out the word vomit in my brain, I simply shrugged at Roy. “Just a little nervous about introducing you to my parents,” I murmured, turning to look out my own window. “But it’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Just be yourself.” Deciding we needed to ease the tension in the car, I turned back to him and raised a cool eyebrow. “Or maybe a better version of yourself,” I teased.

That did it. Roy cracked a smile and reached across the seat to shove my thigh gently. “Fuck off,” he growled, totally unaware of the way his touch sent my heart into overdrive- especially when he left his hand there for the rest of the drive.

Neither of us said another word until the car pulled up in front of the house- the one gift my parents had ever accepted from me- and I laid my hand on top of Roy’s. With a deep breath, I hummed, “Showtime.”

I clutched Roy’s hand in mine as we entered the house; despite my hammering heart, the sight had my shoulders relaxing immediately. Although this wasn’t the house I’d grown up in, it was filled with all the furniture, photographs, and nicknacks from my childhood. It was warm and familiar, like the old blanket that I still kept folded neatly at the end of my bed in England. Roy blinked as he took in the sight of my childhood photos, the ones that featured embarrassing haircuts and ice cream-covered smiles.

“Ma!” I called as I tugged him towards the kitchen. “Dad!”

In a blur of squeals and Spanglish, I was wrapped in the most familiar arms in the world and enveloped in the ever-present scent of rose perfume. My mother squeezed me tight, too excited to decide if she wanted to chatter away in English or Spanish. When she finally let me go, I saw the soft look in Roy’s eyes, the look I sometimes spotted when he thought I wasn’t looking. Offering my shyest smile, I took his hand and tugged him close.

“This is Roy,” I said simply, ignoring the gnawing voices reminding me that this would be the only time my family would meet the footballer; the next time I came home, this fake relationship would be nothing but a distant memory.

“Mucho gusto,” Roy said, his voice dripping with uncertainty.

Despite the years of being on me and my siblings about our broken Spanish and imperfect accents, my mother fawned over the four stiff little syllables Roy offered. She pulled him into a hug, chattering about how nice it was to meet him, how handsome he was, until finally, the expected question flew out of her mouth:

“Are you hungry, Roy?”

Clearly remembering my warnings, Roy simply smiled and nodded; even if he said no, she’d make him a plate anyway. So, he allowed himself to be led to the dining room table that was older than both of us and plopped down in what was usually my seat. I sat beside him and laid my hand on top of this.

“Mucho gusto?” I teased as my mother began scurrying around to load a plate of rice and chicken. “I didn’t know you knew Spanish, Kent. I guess I should’ve asked.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards. “I… asked Rojas to teach me a couple things,” he admitted quietly. “Nothing to brag about, just a few things to impress your parents.” He winked. “Plus all the good swear words.”

My heart slammed against my chest as Roy thanked my mother for the food she set in front of him. He learned Spanish, I thought dreamily. For me.

Before I could linger too long on those words, my father ambled in, eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face. Roy was immediately on his feet, extending his hand towards my dad.

“Good to meet you, sir,” Roy said after I’d made introductions. Something told me Roy Kent didn’t often call people ‘sir’.

“Nice to finally meet you, Roy,” my father hummed. He turned to me with a hug that, while not as smothering as my mother’s, was just as warm. “Mi Estrella,” he murmured as he squeezed me tight.

When he let me go, Roy was looking at me with curiosity. “Estrella?” he repeated quietly.

I nodded. “My dad’s nickname for me,” I explained. “It means star.” I grinned at my dad. “He says that ever since I was a little girl, he knew I was going to be a star someday.”

“Guess I should start calling you starshine instead of sunshine,” Roy joked with a wink.

While Roy continued eating, my parents gushed over the details of my niece’s quinceañera, about the venue and the dress and how beyond stressed my sister was.

“I’ve got to go help your brother find a new jacket,” my dad grumbled to me with a wrinkled nose. “Leave it to my sons to leave everything until the last minute.” He eyed Roy carefully. “Want to come, Roy?”

Roy nearly choked on the last bits of rice as he turned to me. “Er…”

I shrugged. “If you want to,” I said. I laid my hand on top of his. “It might be fun.”

His shoulders relaxed as he looked down at our hands. “Sure,” he murmured. “Might be fun.”

~

Como la flor

Con tanto amor

Me diste tú, se marchitó

Me marcho hoy, yo sé perder

I closed my eyes and swayed my hips as I clutched my pastry blender in my hand, mixing the ingredients in the glass bowl on the counter. With Roy out with my father and brothers, I decided to enjoy some rare alone time in my L.A. home, in the kitchen I used all too rarely. Music blasting, cookies baking- just like when I was a teenager in my grandmother's kitchen, dreaming of the day I’d be as famous as the singers I listened to.

“Are you making cookies?”

Roy stood in the doorway, twirling a set of keys around his finger; I recognized the keychain my mother kept around her copy of my housekey so she could check on the house while I was gone, despite my insistence that I could hire someone to do it for me.

He stepped closer, eying the dough I’d been working on. “Your dad just dropped me off,” he explained. “Hope that’s alright.”

I nodded and continued mixing my dough. “Of course,” I assured him. “You have fun?”

“Believe it or not, I did.” Roy chuckled and took his phone out of his pocket. “It was your dad and your brother and a couple of your uncles, just shopping and fucking about. They’re actually pretty cool.”

“Please don’t tell them that,” I snorted. “They’d never shut up if they thought a professional athlete called them ‘cool’.”

Roy grinned and showed me some photos of him and the men in my family, screwing around the way they always did; he was smiling and laughing the way he did when we were alone. “We had a good time,” he said, sounding even more surprised than I felt. “I’m… actually looking forward to the party tomorrow.” He nodded towards the speaker my music was playing from. “This the kind of stuff they’ll be playing?”

I nodded, suddenly excited. “Oh, definitely. It’s not a party without our queen.” When I saw his puzzled expression, I went on, “This is Selena. She’s one of my heroes.”

“Like Linda Ronstadt?”

His response was so effortless and automatic I nearly flinched. Part of me couldn’t believe he remembered the offhand comment I’d made about my childhood hero; another part of me wasn’t surprised at all that Roy Kent would be so damn thoughtful.

“Yeah,” I breathed, nodding. “Like Linda Ronstadt.” I cleared my throat. “You ever dance cumbia before, Kent?”

“This is cumbia, I assume?” he asked with a smirk. When I nodded, he shook his head. “No, never danced cumbia.”

Without thinking, I held my hand out to him. “You should practice,” I teased with a quirked eyebrow. “Otherwise, you’re going to embarrass me in front of my whole family, and then I’m going to have to fake breakup with you already.”

Roy let out a playful scoff, matched by those familiar rolling eyes. “I know how to fucking dance,” he huffed, taking my hand nonetheless. “We’ve danced plenty of times.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “That was at clubs. You weren’t dancing, you stood there while I danced on you. You’re welcome for the experience, by the way,” I joked, deflecting from the thoughts I had about dancing so close to Roy. “But for this, you need to actually dance. Move your feet.” I swayed my hips dramatically. “Move your hips.”

Roy’s eyes were glued to my hips in a way that had my face burning. “Hips,” he echoed absently. He gave a little cough. “Like this?” He attempted to swing his hips the way I had but wasn’t quite smooth enough. He rolled his eyes, clearly aware of how awkward he looked. “Alright,” he conceded. “I could use some fucking practice.”

Placing both hands on his hips, I pressed myself a smidge closer to him. “Come on, Kent. You’ve got this.”

He watched my hands, my feet, my hips as we moved to the song, the one I’d been singing and dancing to my whole life. I hummed along, nodding when I saw him begin to relax and feel the rhythm. As his confidence clearly grew, he reached down and took my hands from his hips, holding them in that now familiar warm grip. From there, his eyes never left mine, carrying that intensity that I saw in my dreams every night now. Without warning, he gave me a tentative little spin, causing me to squeal in surprise.

“You’re a fast learner,” I teased as one Selena song gave way to another. “First the piano, now cumbia. Are you trying to come for my job, Kent?”

Roy offered a pleased little chuckle and whirled me in another spin, smoother now. “I must have a good teacher,” he hummed. He brought his free hand to my waist and tugged me close as we continued to dance around the kitchen. “You ever think about how, somewhere out there, some kid is dancing ’round her kitchen to your music, dreaming of being like you?”

For the first time in years, my feet stumbled off-beat. He meant it. Roy meant what he said. Even if I didn’t know him as a genuine person, I could see it in his soft eyes. It felt like a punch to the butterflies in my stomach every time I caught glimpses of that kind, authentic guy, the one I wished I could bring home to see my parents over and over and dance with in my kitchen all the time and kiss in private.

Beep! Beep!

The sound of the oven brought me back to reality, prompting me to take a step back from Roy and drop his hand. “That batch is done,” I blurted out. “I, uh, promised my sister I’d make some cookies for tomorrow, for this giant dessert table she’s doing. So, I’ll be in here all night.”

Roy nodded slowly, taking in my rushed explanation. “Right. You’re really good at baking, right? I remember reading that somewhere.” When all I did was nod, he shrugged. “Lemme go grab a book, I can hang out here while you work. Is that alright?”

My eyes fluttered as I tried not to dwell on the idea of Roy reading about me and remembering the details, the way he’d remembered Linda Ronstadt. “Sure, Roy. If you want to.”

He shrugged, the smallest smile on his lips. “I want to,” he assured me.

Roy came back quickly and settled himself at my kitchen table with one of the million books he’d brought with him. He didn’t say much, but he nodded along to the music and offered me tiny smiles whenever our eyes met. And for the rest of the night, I let myself live in a little fantasy, one where, after a night of baking as he relaxed with a book, we could head to bed together, and I could sleep in his arms instead of down the hall.

~

“Hey, Roy?”

Roy looked up from his book. Those familiar pretty eyes gazed at him from the doorway to the guest room, where he had settled in the night before. She cleared her throat and shifted her weight, something clearly on her mind. Behind her back, he spotted a guitar in her hands, an old, worn one, different from the shiny ones she kept around her London home. Probably from the early days of her career, he pondered as he appreciated the way the morning light caught the smooth surface.

Her smile was soft and timid, reminding him of the time they’d spent together on their holiday; so different from the glittering, shiny popstar he thought he’d be spending time with and, somehow, even more lovely than the glamorous celebrity the rest of the world got to see on red carpets and onstage. She was real like this, in jeans and no makeup and that tiny, infectious grin that made her eyes sparkle.

“You wanna hear that song I was writing on the plane? I finished it.”

He hoped the way he hopped off the bed was enough of a yes for her. He followed her down the stairs and through the house, out the back door and into the garden. She plopped down, gesturing for Roy to sit in the grass beside her. As she took out her phone and began tapping away, Roy couldn’t help but smile at the serious look on her face.

When she looked up and saw that smile, she wrinkled her nose playfully. “Don’t laugh,” she chided lightly. “I know I’m being dramatic, making you come outside and all, but trust me. This song needs to be played out here.”

Immediately, Roy shook his head. “No fucking laughing,” he promised.

As if he could ever laugh at her.

Nodding at Roy’s promise, she positioned her guitar on her lap, balancing her phone on her knee. Roy snapped a quick photo before stuffing his mobile back into his pocket; Keeley had texted him that morning to remind him about posting photos from this little trip. But he didn’t want to focus on Instagram or publicity right now. No, he wanted to hear this song, the one he’d be the very first person to hear.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before she began strumming the guitar, creating a homey melody that nestled itself deep in Roy’s chest. She was right, he realized immediately; this song was meant for the outdoors.

Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me?

I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones

These hunters with cell phones

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

A lump formed in Roy’s throat; her voice was a smidge lower than usual, thick with longing. It was heavy, and so beautiful. He’d heard so much of her music over the last few months, including songs that had truly touched his grouchy heart, but this was different. The song felt so heavy, filled with something he couldn’t place his finger on.

What should be over burrowed under my skin

In heart-stopping waves of hurt

I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze

Tell me what are my words worth

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

Her eyes alternated between closing and focusing on her phone and gazing out into the garden, lit with the late morning sun. Some part of Roy wanted to take a million photos and videos of this moment, of how beautiful and vulnerable and sunlit she was, pictures that would surely thrill their publicists, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Her song had cast a spell on him, and he was in no rush to break it.

I want auroras and sad prose

I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet

'Cause I haven't moved in years

Her eyes flickered to his, something he hadn’t realized he was craving, holding his gaze steadily as she continued to sing-

And I want you right here

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

With no one around to tweet it

While I bathe in cliffside pools

With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

Roy couldn’t help but crack a smile at the way her mouth ticked up in the corner at the word calamitous. He remembered the night of their first sleepover, playing Scrabble and refusing to believe it was a real word. One of her favorite words, he recalled. One she was dying to put into a song, but it had to be the right song.

This song. A song he got to pretend was about him.

And somewhere, deep inside his chest, in a place he refused to explore, Roy suddenly felt a sharp pang wishing that he wasn’t pretending. Somewhere deep and buried, Roy wished he could stand up with pride and tell everyone around him that this song, this beautiful, poetic, stunning song was about him, Roy Kent. He’d never fucking shut up about it if it was.

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse

No, not without you

No, not without you

A few strums of the guitar guided Roy back to reality, to a timid smile that was waiting for him to share his thoughts. And this time, unlike the other times, Roy was determined not to fuck this moment up. He licked his lip and shook his head with the softest sigh.

“That,” he murmured, “might be my fucking favorite song, sunshine.”

Her smile widened, glowing with pride as she took in his words. “Mine too, Kent,” she hummed. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I was debating having the whole strings and drums thing, or if-”

“Just the guitar.” Roy was surprised by his own audacity. He shook his head. “Promise me you won’t change a fucking thing. Because that was magical.”

“Just the guitar,” she repeated, her fingers gliding over the smooth wood of the instrument. “Alright, Kent.” She winked at him. “Maybe I’ll have to give you a producer credit or something for your input,” she joked.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with just pretending to be your muse.” He smirked, pretending the idea wasn’t gnawing at him.

Instead of laughing along, she cocked her head at him, her eyes filled with racing thoughts. Roy’s heart stuttered, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing, if he’d gone and ruined what he had to admit was one of the most tranquil moments of his normally unruly life. But before she could share whatever thought was going on in that pretty little mind he admired so much, her phone vibrated, nearly falling off her knee. She broke eye contact- and that spell Roy had been under from the first note she played- and glanced down at the lit-up screen.

“My sister,” she grunted, declining the call. She sighed and looked back at Roy, the sparkle gone from her eyes now. “We should head on in and start getting ready,” she announced. Some of the happiness returned to her face as she smirked at him. “You ready for your first quinceañera?”

Roy chuckled and stood, offering her his hand to help her to her feet. “Let’s fucking do it.”

~

Originally, the idea of bringing Roy Kent to my niece’s quince had, to put it plainly, horrified me. Bringing that surly, swearing, grump of a man to such an important family event sounded like a nightmare. Even after discovering the Roy that had become my friend and- fine­- my crush, I was still nervous about introducing him to the most important people in my life, the people who had supported and encouraged me, who sacrificed to make all my dreams come true. Would they like him? I had wondered. And some small, insecure part of me had also wondered- Would he like them?

Every single one of those worries was shattered as I watched Roy interact with my family. He used the short phrases Dani had taught him on my tíos and tías, bringing surprised smiles to the faces of my uncles and aunts who rarely got to meet the men I ran around with. He greeted my brothers with firm handshakes, laughing about the previous day’s outing like they were old friends, as though he was just any old boyfriend of their younger sister and not a soccer legend dating a professional singer. He took selfies with my way too bold cousins and easily sidestepped the flirting of some of their nervier girlfriends, who would then turn around to let me know how much they loved my music and how expensive tickets for my concerts were; the laughter in Roy’s eyes made the irritating interactions worth it.

But, best of all, he treated my nieces and nephews with the same enthusiasm I had seen him have with Phoebe. He listened intently as the boys chattered on about their favorite teams and asked incessant questions about his career and the players he knew; he even managed to talk about Jamie Tartt without swearing. Even more endearing was the way he allowed my three-year-old niece to lead him by the hand to the dessert table and point out all the treats she wanted him to hand to her.

And the black ensemble he wore- which he admitted Keeley and Dani had put together for him- didn’t hurt either, with the top buttons of his shirt undone just so and the pants that fit far too perfectly to be fair.

As I pondered the sight of him taking selfies with my oldest niece and her friends, my sister sidled up, that familiar knowing smile on her face.

“I thought he was supposed to be a grouch,” she teased, nodding towards the smirking coach.

“Believe me, he is,” I chuckled, unable to suppress my grin as I thought about the swears and eyerolls I now thought of as oddly charming. “But he’s also… nice.” I didn’t know what else to say as she raised an eyebrow at me.

Finally, she just wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “That’s good,” she said. “You deserve nice, cariño. Mom and Pop, they’re so tired of seeing the rock stars and the bad boys. They want to see you happy, with someone who cares about you.” She squeezed me close, knocking her hip to mine, the way she did when we were children. “Does Roy care about you?”

It was such a loaded question. Yes, Roy and I were friends now, and he was one of the most protective and supportive people I had in my life, something I felt truly grateful for. But the kisses and affection and the sparkling looks he gave me, they were all for show, for the cameras, for the job. My heart was heavy every time I remembered that all of this, like every relationship I’d had, would end, leaving me once again with nothing but a broken heart and inspiration for sad songs that the internet would both love and mock me for.

But then those brown eyes found mine, and that smirk became a wide grin, and I felt myself melt into my sister’s embrace.

Even if it wasn’t the way I wanted, I knew I could answer her question truthfully-

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Roy really cares about me.”

~

Roy tried to remember the last time he’d had so much fun at a party. He was grateful for his kitchen dance lessons, because he found himself gravitating towards his fake girlfriend, wanting to dance close to her to the music that pulsated through every inch of his body.

She was glittering, magical, as she danced under the party lights, moving her hips even more fluidly than she had in the kitchen the night before. Her hair, her makeup, that fucking dress- everything about her was stunning. Roy marveled at how easily she glided back and forth between looking like home in her jeans and sweatshirts and looking like a goddess in dresses and heels.

Her eyes were bright as she pressed her body close to his, laughing as she sang along to the song he didn’t understand a word of. He probably could have stayed on the dance floor all night, admiring her and doing his best to keep up with her dreamy moves. Roy was something close to disappointed when she tugged his hand and pulled him over to their table, where a few of her family members sat drinking and chattering.

“I’ll be back,” she promised over the music, pressing a kiss to Roy’s cheek.

Roy must have had more shots than he’d counted, he figured. That had to be why he reflexively turned his head to steal a kiss, probably deeper than he should have in front of her brothers, he admitted. But fuck, her lips just felt so soft against his cheek; how was he supposed to resist?

When he pulled back, she blinked at him before offering a tiny smile. “Don’t miss me too much.” With a light touch to his shoulder, she was gone.

“Really?” her oldest brother scoffed, giving Roy a playful shove. “We’re right here, man. You’re going to lose all those points you’ve earned with your shitty Spanish.”

Roy let out a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry,” he apologized, clearly not meaning it.

Her brother shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We just like seeing her happy.” He nodded to the stage, where the DJ was setting up a lone microphone. “Did she tell you what song she’s doing?”

“What song?” Roy repeated incredulously.

“She always sings a little something when we have big parties,” her dad explained from Roy’s other side. “Almost always a Selena song, usually ‘Dreaming of You’. It’s always been one of her favorite songs.” He beamed with that pride only a parent could have. “She sings it beautifully.”

Roy sat up as he watched her climb the stage, that old guitar in hand. “I bet she does,” he murmured, more to himself.

The teenagers on the dance floor shrieked with excitement as she approached the microphone, her bashful expression nothing short of lovely. The birthday girl, in her big poofy dress that Roy couldn’t believe she could walk in, was pushed to the front of the crowd, beaming up at her aunt expectantly; clearly, she had been looking forward to this part of her party.

“So, someone’s been spreading a rumor that I like to sing,” the popstar joked, winking at her niece. “So I’d like to sing a little something for my beautiful niece. Happy birthday, mijita.” She blew a kiss to the birthday girl before strumming her guitar and taking a deep breath, preparing to sing, the way she had in the garden that morning.

Late at night when all the world is sleeping

I stay up and think of you

And I wish on a star

That somewhere you are thinking of me too

Her eyes found Roy’s, immediately softening and sparkling as she continued in that voice wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of.

'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight

'Til tomorrow

I'll be holding you tight

And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be

Than here in my room

Dreaming about you and me

Wonder if you ever see me

And I wonder if you know I'm there

If you looked in my eyes

Would you see what's inside?

Would you even care?

I just wanna hold you close

But so far

All I have are dreams of you

So I wait for the day and the courage to say

How much I love you, yes I do

Eyes closed, she leaned back from the microphone and continued strumming on the guitar, the tune shifting into something different, but just as soft and wistful. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy caught flashes of confusion on her family’s faces, their expressions telling him that this wasn’t her usual performance.

When her eyes opened, she winked at her still beaming niece before looking back at Roy, her gaze aflame with something he couldn’t quite name.

I could lose my heart tonight

If you don't turn and walk away

'Cause the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

'Cause I could take you in my arms

And never let go

I could fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

Her brother leaned close to Roy and murmured, “This is new. Usually she just does ‘Dreaming of You’ and that’s it.” He nudged Roy pointedly. “Three guesses who inspired the change,” he teased.

All Roy could do was chuckle awkwardly and shrug, unable to tear his eyes from the singer as she sang, her voice thick with emotion, as though the song was made for her.

I can only wonder how

Touching you would make me feel

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

So I should keep this to myself

And never let you know

I could fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

And I know it's not right

And I guess I should try to do what I should do

But I could fall in love, fall in love with you

I could fall in love with you

She played the outro to massive applause, especially from the teenagers on the dance floor. She leaned down from the stage to hug the birthday girl tightly and blow kisses to the young people screaming her name. She practically floated offstage and back to Roy, who stood up so he could wrap her in a hug.

“That was beautiful,” he gushed. “Seriously, you’re fucking amazing.”

“Anything for Roy Kent,” her older sister called out in a mocking voice, sounding like some sort of inside joke Roy didn’t quite get.

The sour face she made at her sister told Roy that yes, there was a joke happening. “Just be glad I’m not charging you for the performance,” she quipped. She turned her attention back to Roy, offering him that beaming smile.

“You ever think of doing an all-acoustic album?” he blurted out without thinking. “Just… that song you played this morning, and then this…” He shook his head. “It’d be fucking amazing. Just you and your guitar. It's fucking magic.”

She studied him for a moment, looking like she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Finally, and reached down and took his hand in hers. “Come on, Kent,” she chuckled. “Let’s get you a drink and you can try to become my new producer.”

~

I giggled as Roy and I stumbled through the front door after waving off my driver. After my Selena mashup, we joined my siblings and cousins in multiple rounds of shots, filling the night with laughter and joyful shouts. Now, at nearly two in the morning, the two of us staggered into my house, Roy’s arm wrapped loosely around my shoulders as he hummed the song that had been playing in the car before we got out.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he sang, his voice gruff and off-key. “The downtown lights.”

Once we managed to make it upstairs, I pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks for tonight, Kent,” I murmured. “You were the perfect boyfriend.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “For you, sunshine? Anytime.” He gave me a small squeeze before pulling away and taking a backwards step towards his room, down the hall from mine. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I echoed, watching his receding figure before ducking into my own bedroom. Once inside, I kicked off the ridiculously high heels I’d been stupid enough to dance in and removed my jewelry. Impatient to get some pajamas on, I reached for the zipper on my dress so I could take it off and leave it in some corner instead of hanging it up like a civilized popstar would.

Too bad I couldn’t reach the damn zipper.

“Fuck,” I hissed, wondering how the heck I’d managed to get dressed. Right, I reminded myself: I’d changed at my mother’s so I could get ready with my sister and niece. One of them had zipped me up.

Too tired and drunk to feel embarrassed or timid, I yanked my bedroom door open and poked my head into the hallway. The light coming out from under the guest room door told me that Roy was still up.

“Kent!” I whined.

From the other side of the door, I heard a grumbled, “Yeah?”

Pouting for an invisible audience, I shouted back, “Come help me with my zipper.” Without waiting for an answer, I turned back to my room.

I could hear the long sigh from his room, but, sure enough, his door opened. I heard his footsteps approach slowly. When I glanced over my shoulder, Roy was in the doorway, already changed into the plain t-shirt he usually wore to bed. My skin warmed at the sight of his boxers, but I waved him over, pretending to be much more casual than my racing heart felt.

His fingers were warm on my back as he found my zipper, reminding me of when he’d put the Scrabble necklace around my neck; I wondered if he could feel me shiver at his touch and the memory. Slowly, he guided the zipper down, down to where it ended just above the curve of my ass, exposing my bare back.

Roy could have left, right then and there. He could have turned and walked out, grumbled a tipsy goodnight, and returned to his room. That was what I fully expected him to do.

Instead, when I turned my head to thank him for his help, his hand hovered over my shoulder as he stared at me with wide eyes. With a visible gulp, he took the shoulder of my dress between his fingers and tugged it down deliberately, as though waiting for me to tell him to stop, to ask what he was doing, to order him back to his room. Rather than do any of those things, I let him slowly guide the dress down my shoulders until it fell in a puddle at my feet, leaving me in only my panties and bra.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes on my lips. “Really fucking beautiful.”

Before I could think of a single word to say, Roy crashed his mouth into mine, hungry and reckless. I quickly turned my body to face him, to press myself against him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He groaned into the kiss and slid his hands down to my ass, just like he had that day at the lake. My desperation for him finally winning, I reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor carelessly. He reattached his mouth to mine seamlessly and began urging me towards my bed.

I tugged him along until we were both horizontal, mouths and hands everywhere, soft groans filling the silent room. Something hard pressed against me deliciously, even harder than that afternoon making out in front of the paparazzi.

My heart soared when I remembered that there was no paparazzi, no audience. This was just me and Roy, in my bed, touching each other because we meant it. I pulled him closer, feeling like finally, finally, I’d done the impossible and caught lightning in a bottle. Maybe, just maybe, I had found that love I’d spent my whole life singing and dreaming about.

Roy’s hands felt like home and his lips tasted like paradise as I began to squirm beneath him, appreciative of the friction he gave me. We could go back to London together, I thought as my hands wandered down those perfect arms, arms I dreamt about each night. Every love song on my tour would be for him. Hell, I could tell him that my new album really was for him. This wouldn’t have to end, my soaring heart thought. We could stay like this, me and my muse-

“Fuck.”

The curse that hissed past the lips I was kissing froze my movements. I pulled back, eying Roy’s flushed face and feeling his ragged breath against my own.

“Something wrong?” I breathed, begging him to say no. Begging him to stay.

Of course, he didn’t say no. He didn’t stay. Instead, he climbed off me and off my bed, shaking his head sadly.

“I’m sorry.”

That was it. Two words. Two little words and he’d sent me back to that place I’d been so many times, that place of loneliness and doubt. Without looking back at me, he walked towards the door, pausing only to pick up his shirt and tug it back over his head. He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone.

The sound of footsteps trudging downstairs finally had me able to move. I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack, revealing Roy hurrying down. His footsteps made a beeline for my backdoor, which quickly opened and shut.

Part of me wanted to run after him, to demand to know what had just happened and what it meant. To beg him to come back upstairs and try to love me. Please.

But for once, I didn’t. I wanted Roy Kent to choose me, and I wasn’t going to beg. Not this time. This time, I turned off the light and crawled back into bed. The memory of his hands and his lips played over and over again in my head until, finally, I drifted to sleep.

~

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@charkachow@mrdsturd@littlepinapple@sunfairyy@shadowzena43@uhmidkmuch@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme@alicedsworld@222333777@thegivenvoid @tortilla-maria1 @treblebeth @maackiimoo

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

do the cats have any like. things with bugs? like symbolism or stories?

Ants - Ants, due to their strength in numbers, are seen as very good friends and an example as to why working in teams in a good thing. A single ant can hardly move anything, but an entire team of ants can move huge pieces of food! The Ant- prefix is supposed to inspire the thought of a cat who is a team player, someone who works well with others. The ancient cat Antcloud of Riverclan, Cloudberry's brother, was known as a friendly cat to all. Antpelt's mother named him Antkit in hopes he'd make lots of friends...

Ladybugs - These little critters are actually associated heavily with motherhood! It is said that if a pregnant Queen sees a ladybug with many spots, the queen will have many kittens! If the ladybug does not have many spots, they will not have many kittens. Superstitious cats believe in it, like Brightheart, where cats who don't, like Cloudtail, tend to just think they're pretty. Ladybug is a very, very rare prefix, seen in ancient times with an underaged Shadowclan apprentice, Ladybugpaw. He is demoted back to Ladybugkit, and his future name was Ladybugfur.

Praying Mantis - These tough bugs (seriously I'm pretty sure fear is a foreign concept to these things) are seen pretty differently by each Clan. To Shadowclan, they are a snack, albeit a more bizarre one, often paired with roasted poultry and spicy Juniper berries. To Riverclan, they're a sign that the meadow in their Lake territory is healthy! Before that, they were mysterious, seen more like spirits than anything, and a sign that Starclan was watching the land by bringing its grass blades to life. To Windclan, they are valued for their resilience, and their willingness to battle despite size... It's relatable to them! If Windclan had movies, they'd be the underdog hero.

Grasshoppers - Snacks! Food! Yummy! Favorite food of Featherpelt, who loves frying some up and dipping them in blood gravy. Oh yeah... We use cooking too, but MUCH more recent in Clan history! Riverclan turns up their noses though, they refuse to eat them, but Shadowclan cats will slather them in vinegar. Grasshopper in general are associated with an old story, one that only Skyclan knows now from their old days. Their very first leader learned how to jump from a large Grasshopper, but when it tried to take her place as leader of Skyclan, she jumped high and swatted it off the high branch, breaking it into lots of little Grasshopper babies. Grasshoppers now have no idea what happened, but catching them is still a point of pride!

Snails (I know they're not bugs but you try telling cats that) - Snails! Their shells are collectible, and sometimes a very hot commodity in Shadowclan and Skyclan! There are stories of giant snails that cats can ride the shells of, and paint with pigments, meaning little painted shells are worth even MORE. The name Snail is meant to inspire peace and thoughtfulness.

Clams/Muscles - Riverclan food! Lots of Riverclan Cats learn to dive down into the river and part of the ocean when they take trips down there, all with the hopes to grab some yummy creature (and hopefully find a pearl!). Cats guard the ones they catch, and they're heavily prized for the possibility that they may hold a pearl. There are Legends about hunting parties that managed to save Riverclan from starting to death by diving down into the depths of the river to grab lots of them. Part of Riverclan mythology is the legend of a gigantic clam that resides in the river that an ancient Leopardclan warrior stashed a giant rainbow coloured pearl inside of to guard...

Crabs (also yes I know) - Beach bugs! A very lovely treat that cats will go to Sundrown Place to get along with salt! Just make sure to bring a basket, so you don't get pinched! Berrynose finds this one out the hard way. They're a delightful food and they're shells and pincers are often kept and traded! Riverclan has now become the lovers of all seafood, and will trade you whatever you like in return for a big crab.

Flies - Flighty around others, but brave enough to withstand sickness, often mate with those huge roaring dragons in the sky! Helpful as well, they point out sick prey or rotting meat. Cherryfall named Flykit the way she did because she feels that they're incredibly important, and wanted her tiny daughter to feel special. Flystar of Skyclan was Honor Titled the name Fly- for their ability to pick our bad prey, saving the Clan from a major outbreak during a very dark time when every other Clan was experiencing a Plague.

Dragonflies - Seen as the gorgeous offspring between flies and Dragons (airplanes) due to their shape, they're associated with grace, beauty, still water, and growing plants. There are however, stories of Dragonflies managing to become massive beasts, joining their dragon parent in the sky... Dragonfly from the Kin gets a huge reputation boost for being cool because of it.

Beetles - Icewing's favorite creature, if you let her, she'll talk your ear off about how pretty they are, their lovely smooth shells, how much she loves the ones with horns... All that. They are seen as very beautiful by the Clans, and I'm pretty sure some apprentices keep beetles in little hideouts to watch them... Or make the horned ones fight because kids will be kids. Icewing and Mintwhisker were big fans of beetle fights, and named Beetlewhisker after the beetles they bonded over as apprentices.

Worms - Lot of different opinions! Though, Thunderclan has a very very sore spot concerning worms. You'll have to forgive them, they're not the type to let things go. Since the move to the lake, things have gotten better, but stories about The Great Hunger are still cause for many cats to very much dislike worms. They'll happily trade them off to Riverclan. Bait in exchange for duck feathers and the occasional egg.

Speaking of, Riverclan LOVE worms. Not to eat, no, but for bait! Not many fish can resist a wiggly worm!

To Windclan, they're kinda seen as annoying. I'm borrowing Tunnelbuns from Bonefall, and a worm getting into your tunnelbun is the WORST.

For Shadowclan, many apprentices try and catch them to put them in frog-filled areas to fatten up frogs for an easier future catch. Doesn't always work, but it keeps them entertained and it's fun to watch!

Crickets - The snack you dare your friends to try. Cool! Weird! A bug that SINGS! Myths linger about a cricket that managed to learn to speak, and gave a sign from Starclan to an old Lionclan cat to save his leader. Cricket songs are enjoyed heavily, and Crickets going quiet is cause for deep concern. It happens right before the Great Battle. The silence is still a... Tough to talk about moment.

Spiders - Skyclan and The Forest Four have very different views!

To the Forest Four, Spiders have a bit of a tough rep. They're eeire, but the cobwebs they make are so, so useful. Plenty of cats have a fear of spiders, such as Cloudtail, Owlwhisker, and Mossyfoot. They're seen as very pragmatic, and Spiderleg was named for his very spider-y body, but also his will to live, and his strength, especially when he was a tiny kitten, and needed his extra leg amputated due to the pain it was causing.

To Skyclan: A tragic symbol of the final leader of old Skyclan. Spiderstar made the final call, like a dying mother spider, to cast off remaining cats of Skyclan out into the Twolegplace. They are seen as beautiful, intelligent, and protective. Spiderstar is often called upon for a blessing when a cat goes on a quest, in hopes they will still come home afterwards. Pebbleshine frequently prays to her, as does Violetshine. They both love spiders as a result.

Ticks - Bad! Awful! Makes cats sick! Hurts and itches! These things caused a terrible Plague during the Homebrew story Wishstar's Abyss, and she used the cover of the sickness to poison the current leader. They need to be dealt with ASAP. Removed with prey bones or carved sticks, mouse bile is a Shadowclan exclusive seasoning once cooking is discovered.

Bees - Seen as less of a threat than their Wasp counterparts, but still creatures to be a bit weary about! They do not take kindly to stealing. The Legend of The Bee is very similar to the old myth in our world about them! A large bee presented Starclan with sweet honey, and Starclan was thankful. When Starclan asked the bee how she managed to make enough to share with everyone, the bee laughed and stated she would attack anyone who tried, that Starclan cats were lucky to have gotten a taste. Starclan cursed the bee, while she was given an incredible weapon to defend herself, it would kill her if used. Since you're able to harvest from bees without getting stung (so long as you remain calm) the Bee name is often associated with quieter, more strategic cats.

Bumblebees - These are seen as SIMILAR to bees, but not quite! They do still sting, but how could something so differently shaped and so very fuzzy be the actual same thing? They're also called Bumbles, making Bumble a suitable prefix (not that it wasn't already from Bumblestripe!) Shadowclan celebrates a Bumblebee Festival, where many Pollen rich flowers are gathered and placed in the middle of camp to attract bumbles near the end of Greenleaf!

Wasps/Hornets - These are actually seen as the same thing! Just different ranking. Since it's known that bees swarm, the Clan cats see these as higher ranked bees. Think apprentices vs warriors. Same THING, different rank. Waspwhisker's name is an indication of his strength in battle (and in being a good tracker, hence the suffix).

[might-be-tiny-gt]

G/T WAC Prompt 2:

Scenarios I Want To See More Often

**Cracks knuckles**

Oh baby get ready cause I’m about to freaking rant.

Shrinking: it is my favorite trope of all time. NO ONE UTILIZES IN ANY FUN WAY. Ok I’m sure there are but I hardly see it. Normally a shrinking scene in a fic or show or movie just happens then we move on. Worst off it happens off screen or while the character is passed out or something. Like yeah it’s good for tension but 0 fun points.

But enough complaining time for me to pitch ideas. First of all my favorite kind of shrinking usually happens in universe over the course of a couple minutes, maybe a few hours max if it’s written right. Why? Let me tell you why. Desensitization. If the scene goes on too long the audience and or the character is no longer freaking out over the actual shrinking happen. That being said if it happens over a few second then audience certainly doesn’t have enough time to invest in it. I think a few minutes in universe is the sweet spot.

What is the character doing as they’re shrinking? A lot of the time, especially in visual mediums, they just stand there and let it happen. Maybe they’re freaking out in their heads but that’s the most we ever get. No! GIVE THEM SOMETHING TO DO AS THEIR SHRINKING! What if they decide they need to climb up stairs as they’re shrinking? Will they make it? How much does it take to reach each step the smaller they get? What if shrinking is the solution to a problem? The character shrinks down maybe to hide from someone or something, are they prepping their hiding spot, trying to reach their hiding spot? Maybe they’re holding something that isn’t shrinking with them. Usually see this trope in Alice in Wonderland adaptations with the bottle she drinks staying the same size as she shrinks. Does the character notice it getting heavy? Do they put it down while they still can or drop it and see the aftermath of drooping said item as their shrinking?

What’s the shrink process like? Personally when I write shrinking I love to write it as sudden burst of shrinking rather than a straight forward one. I think it makes the scenario much more fun and chaotic. The character won’t know when they shrink each time, it just suddenly happens. Maybe they shrink an inconsistent size each time, the first time an inch the second time half a foot the third 4 inches, have fun with it. I also love when the shrinking can somehow be controlled. For example I love the idea of someone shrinking whenever they sneeze or hiccup. Like they’re gonna shrink no matter what but maybe if they can hold back that sneeze or hiccup it’ll give them just a little bit more time. Time for what? Something, anything! Open a door, Climb a table, call for help, anything! Also love when this specific trope has the character sneezing/hiccuping in rapid succession and instead of it combining into one burst it individual shrinks them each time. Side note: just have fun reasons/conditions that’ll cause a person to shrink. Every time person A sneezes they shrink or if they say the wrong thing they shrink, or their height is tied to something like a cursed candle that will shrink them when it’s lit. I want more creative scenarios for shrinking.

Another thing, I really like the trope of shrinking out of clothes, I just think it adds more chaos to the whole deal. I don’t like nudity though? It’s weird. Anyways, I like when people can creatively come up with ideas around that. I have a comic I drew in October where the person shrinking has a towel set to the side so when they shrink out of their clothes they have something to immediately change into. Obviously this doesn’t fit every scenario, if the person shrinking didn’t plan for it how will this problem be resolved. I’ve seen scenarios that have characters wear clothes under their normal ones specifically designed to shrink with them to give you the fun of shrinking out of clothes with none of the nudity. I appreciate ideas like that.

My friend @sucker-for-shifters suggested forced shrinking which is one of my favorites. Forced shrinking/not knowing why your shrinking is another one of my top their shrinking tropes! Let’s throw ideas shall we? I like when persona A is actively being shrunk by person b against their will and person A is putting up as much of a fight as they can. Maybe not physically but person A can be trying to keep a level head and not give the satisfaction of seeing them panic. Maybe A is readying the space for their inevitable fate or doing everything in their power to keep person B from capturing them when they get too small. Like it’s a super villain scenario and I think it’s so cool. Also like is someone shrinks cause they were tricked into doing something that triggers it. Drinking a weird potion, wearing an experimental piece of technology, reciting a spell. There’s a lot of ways to do it. Love the sub trope of the size shifter that is normal height then suddenly shrinks under certain circumstances and has to wait it out til they turn back to normal. No control over when or how it happens but can at least prepare for it.

I think I’ve said everything I wanted to on the shrinking trope. Share your shrinking stories or ideas, I’d love to see them.

BONUS PROMPT:

Give me more tinies in G/t scenarios with super powers that aren’t size shifters. No hate to size shifters at all, love them to death. Just think it’s more fun for a tiny to have a random power that gives them an edge over their giant. Love Ant Man, but give me a tiny with super strength or that knows magic or that can duplicate themselves.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

Lloyd’s upbringing in your fic fascinates me. I wanted to ask if he was able to interact with literally anyone else but his mom, and how often he was allowed to actually leave the apartment and be outside, bc from your fic’s implications he a) only meaningfully interacted with his mother, and she was apparently often absent both physically and emotionally, leaving him alone often and b) he left the apartment like once a month maybe. The fact that his mother, an authority figure, was his only constant form of human interaction must have had such an impact on his development, not to mention the lack of variety in settings. What did he think of the shows he must have watched, seeing characters make friends? What did he think of normal kids getting to make friends and go places without having to dress up and hide? I imagine he must have been so jealous and confused. Idk just thinking ab the psychology of a child who was isolated from the entire world for 13 years straight. If you wanna use this ask to expand on it pls do

He was 'literally allowed to interact' with other people, it just...usually never went well. I actually have (read: had, ofc now that I need it I CANT FIND IT) a whole deleted flashback scene from Book 2 where Koko takes him over to another apartment for him to be babysat/have a playdate, buuuuut he winds up biting the other child (even though Lloyd did it in self-defense due to the other child bullying him for his looks). But beyond that, interaction with others didn't not happen, it was just exceedingly sparse (and almost never without Koko around, which I think is something Lloyd mentioned at one point or anther—)

It is true that his mother was his most consistent source for of interaction, and Koko being Koko really did try to give him as much to work with as she could—it's why he's so smart but so awkward with his approach at time (luckily he has a little green element empathy to push him in better directions, usually). And yes, they had their monthly visit to the markets, but she'd take him to parks and the movies and stuff like that when it wasn't too busy, but those experiences also thinned out as Lloyd got older and she got busier, which we know Lloyd is resentful of.

But yeah—if you were constantly shown glimpses and only heard in stories about what life was "supposed" to be like and you were only ever tempted with the occasional chance to get to experience any of it, you'd be jealous and downright pissed too (especially when your own mother wouldn't tell you why)! Outside of the Garmadon thing, it's the other reason why Lloyd ran away (and why he's still mad at his mom/doesn't want to go back to her)—he couldn't take it anymore, and even though he hardly had any idea of what he was doing, it was still better than *drumroll* being stuck in a cage! Even if Darkley's was a primarily bad experience for him, it was still an experience (if not his first real one he made himself; hence why so many characteristics he picked up from there still stick with him and why he gives the students there the benefit of the doubt later on in Book 3)

...As early as the next chapter ,Lloyd even thinks to himself that despite all the bad that's happened (and is currently happening to him) that this is the first time in his life that he's ever actually lived—

And that alone makes him smile.

(really, how ironic, to be a 'master of life' and yet never having the chance to 'master' it at all)

[deliciouskeys]

For @xieyaohuan because they were interested in something mentioned offhand about "the idea that as HL got older Vought tried to give him pleasant experiences to motivate him and prevent depression but that it was always in an isolated area, and away from any people who weren’t Vought employees."

It's not for @xieyaohuan because this fic probably outs me as a (former) baseball obsessive nerd, and is painfully American.

In any case...

Baseball is My Favorite Sport It's 1990. Homelander attends his first baseball game in a tiny minor league stadium, and Vogelbaum is a cold, cold man. Gen, in case that needs to be clarified D: Weird, like most of my bb HL content.

[ao3 link]

“Here we go... this is a nice spot, right here.” Vogelbaum sits down on an uncomfortable wooden bench seat and pats the spot beside him.

John looks around, stares, probably wondering why most people are trying to sit closer to home plate while they’re all the way out in right field, where there are hardly any people, but he doesn’t ask anything. He’s been exceedingly well behaved the entire four hour car ride to get to Utica, nose pressed to the window, watching the upstate New York countryside drift by. They could have chosen a venue closer to the City, but decided to play it safe. Vought wanted the boy exposed to crowds before he was going to be the subject of their attention. But this was also his first exposure to people who weren’t Vought employees. The crowd here is manageable, in the hundreds. If anything happened, they could probably cover it up in a small town like Utica. If they had gone to a game in Long Island, that probably wouldn’t be as easy and the margin for error would be very slim.

He glances back at the two Vought bodyguards who have seated themselves directly behind them. Insurance in case anything happens. Not that it’s clear how they could prevent anything catastrophic from happening if John somehow got out of control, but it’s good to have some backup. Vogelbaum thinks it’s ludicrous that they came in their usual black suits and sunglasses to sit in this tiny baseball stadium in an audience full of families with young children. They are far more conspicuous and out of place than John. In any case, Vogelbaum is the most important line of defense here to make sure the boy manages his first excursion into a public event.

“John, what rules did we agree on when you’re out here?”

The boy turns away from the field where the players are warming up to look at Vogelbaum earnestly. “Don’t move fast, don’t fly, don’t power up my eyes, don’t talk loudly,” he rattles off.

“That’s right. Just enjoy the game.”

“What if...” John hesitates. “In the movies sometimes a ball flies out of the field and then people can catch it. Can I move fast to do that, at least?”

“Absolutely not,” Vogelbaum cuts him off. “Don’t move out of your seat under any circumstances.”

John nods and folds his hands in his lap.

“Are these the best baseball players in the world?” he asks.

Vogelbaum can’t help but scoff. “No, John. This is A ball. These players are trying to get into the Big Leagues. Come on, you know the Blue Sox aren’t part of the American or National Leagues.”

John screws up his eyebrows, deep in thought. “Oh yeah. But they’re still pretty good right?”

“They’re okay I suppose. They still have double A and triple A ahead of them. Most of them will never make it to the Majors.”

John watches them warm up playing catch, and Vogelbaum can tell he’s scanning through the walls to look at the pitcher warming up in the bullpen.

“Which team are you a fan of?” John asks.

Vogelbaum grimaces. “I haven’t been to a game in ages. My father used to take me to Yankees games in the Bronx. They were an amazing team when I was a child. Not so much these days.”

“Do you take your children?” John asks and Vogelbaum’s body freezes. He’s tried to never mention his children anywhere near the lab building, but he supposes the other researchers might have blabbed something about him going home to his family. Or maybe it was because his wife sometimes insisted on calling him to ask when he’d be home in a passive aggressive tone. He’d never mention his children, but her voice through the receiver might have. And this boy can hear everything inside that building. Vogelbaum finds the idea of John knowing anything about his children intensely disconcerting. He breathes deeply to make sure his heart rate slows down.

“I do not. My daughters aren’t so interested.”

John beams. “Well, you can take me any time! Baseball is my favorite sport.”

Vogelbaum nods. “I’m well aware.” He always found Vought’s idea of what the boy’s hobbies should be gratingly on the nose.

“Do you think...” John pauses, as if sensing that he might get reprimanded for the question before even asking it. “Do you think I could become a baseball player when I’m old enough?”

“John. Come on now. You know baseball is an exclusion sport. They’re all about tradition. They haven’t let supes in yet, and seeing what happened to hockey, I don’t think they ever will.”

“But...” The boy looks upset for the first time that day. “You’re saying I wouldn’t be allowed to play even if I don’t use my powers?”

“Yes, even if you don’t use your powers. That’s a silly idea anyway. Would you hit the ball with one hundredth of the strength you actually have? Would you run the bases slowly? Besides, John, this game is beneath you. Everyone at Vought has such high hopes for you. You could do such interesting things with your life. This?” He gestures to the field. “It’s just a childish pastime.”

“But... isn’t it America’s favorite sport?”

“It certainly bills itself as that. But it’s just nostalgia. People longing for classic American sports before the first supes appeared in the 40s. It’s just sentimental.”

John looks back at him, still looking sad and perplexed. “You don’t like it?”

Vogelbaum realizes it’s strange to deride a sport they’re about to sit through seven innings of. “I like it just fine, but I don’t want you moping about not being allowed to play it. Let’s just enjoy watching.”

John seems mollified by that explanation and turns back to watch as the loudspeaker announces the beginning of the game. He seems to follow the game with interest. They’re sitting far enough away and to the side that the action isn’t very visible, but this child can see perfectly well at this distance.

“I can see catcher’s signs!” John announces, a little too proudly, and a little too loudly, so that a man sitting several empty rows in front of them with his two sons turns and looks at him. John seems oblivious, so Vogelbaum shushes him. John speaks in a more hushed tone. “He’s showing one finger for the pitcher to throw a fastball, and then the other ones are slower.”

“That’s right. I think the standard signs are two for a curve, three for a slider, and four for a changeup. And they’ll tilt their wrist to show which side of the plate they want it on.”

“Oh yeah,” John says, staring intently. Vogelbaum finds his eagerness to look through people’s bodies a little bit disconcerting, but he has resigned himself to the fact that John can look at anything he wants and there’s no good way to stop him from doing that.

“Now watch closely—if they get a runner on second, they’ll change the signs to a secret system they came up with beforehand.”

“Why?” John asks.

“Because with the runner on second, he can see the catcher’s hands, and he could whistle to the man up to bat.” Vogelbaum suddenly gets self-conscious. “I don’t know, it’s all pretty silly details.”

John doesn’t seem to think so and keeps watching the game raptly before he starts announcing the speed of the pitches. Vogelbaum hasn’t noticed too many superhuman mental powers show themselves in this child, except for these seemingly interrelated abilities to count quickly and estimate speeds and frequencies with surprising accuracy.

“76 miles an hour. That was a changeup. 90 miles an hour. That’s a fastball.”

“You see how slowly they throw? That’s as fast as they can lob it. You can throw, what, five, six times as fast as that? When you’re not even fully grown up. And you wanted to play with them?”

John shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable with the comparison and its implications and goes right back to announcing the pitches.

“84 miles an hour. Slider.”

The man in front of them turns around again. “Ha! Your kid almost sounds like he knows what he’s talking about and sees it all the way from over here.”

Vogelbaum nods woodenly. “Yes, he’s aspiring to be an announcer.” Then turning to John, he says much more quietly “Remember we agreed you’d keep your voice down? People here shouldn’t hear you.”

John nods and starts mumbling the pitches out very quietly. Vogelbaum is admittedly pleased that he makes himself busy with figuring out particulars, of course, but sometimes he worries this boy is growing up to be strange. He hopes it’s a phase where he just happens to get fixated on certain things easily.

The food vendors have been hovering where the majority of the sparse crowd is sitting but one finally makes his way over to their corner of the seats.

“Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!” resonates across the many empty seats. The man in front of them motions the vendor over and starts buying some.

John is intensely interested. “Dr. Vogelbaum? May I please try one of those?”

Vogelbaum wearily motions the vendor over.

 “Alright little man. How old are you?”

“N-nine.” John mumbles. Maybe he’s intimidated by the vendor using that brash theatrical voice.

“An excellent age! You want relish with this?”

John stares wide-eyed. “Wh- what’s... wh-”

“He doesn’t need relish,” Vogelbaum interrupts him. John has a strange verbal tic when he gets nervous. Vogelbaum won’t go so far as to call it an outright stutter because it comes and goes, but it’s probably time to hire a speech therapist to nip this problem in the bud. Before the higher-ups become aware of it. They’re banking on him being a good public speaker.

“Anything for you sir?” the vendor offers and Vogelbaum shakes his head, trying to keep disdain off his face. “You want some Crackerjack too, little slugger?”

John looks questioningly, then sees the box the man pulls out and, before Vogelbaum has the chance to protest, answers with an emphatic “Yes!”

Vogelbaum relents and pays for both items to avoid a scene, and scoffs when the bodyguards seated behind them also get hot dogs.

“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life!” John declares loudly, only muffled because his mouth still full of hot dog and bun. One of the men behind them snickers.

“We don’t talk with our mouth full,” Vogelbaum says. Then adds “I’m glad you like it.”

John finishes the hot dog but Vogelbaum tells him to wait before he starts on the Crackerjack. Instead of focusing on home plate, John seems to be watching the people sitting in front of them. The two boys have gotten bored and are shoving each other.

“May I talk to those kids?” John asks.

“Absolutely not. We’re here just to visit and to see if you can behave yourself.”

John saddens again. “I won’t do anything wrong. I won’t show them that I’m a super.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to talk to them,” Vogelbaum grumbles, eager to cut off any more arguments.

John suddenly gets even more discreet and whispers in his ear. “Why are they shoving each other?”

“They’re siblings. Brothers will roughhouse like that.”

John stares at them. “Will I ever have a brother?”

Vogelbaum sighs and tries not to visibly roll his eyes. “No, John. You’re one of a kind. And not everyone has a brother. I was an only child growing up as well.”

John looks up at him and nods.

“Now why don’t you pay attention to the game instead.”

“I am. It’s bottom of the fourth, two outs, man on first.” The batter grounds out and the fielders start jogging toward the dugout. “And now it’s top of the fifth.” Now it’s John who’s rolling his eyes.

“Alright, I stand corrected. You were paying attention. But don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry,” John says, and he’s still a little morose, so Vogelbaum relents and hands over the box of Crackerjack.

“Hey there’s something in there!” John says, peering at the box, shaking it.

“Why don’t you open it instead of looking through it. I think those come with a little prize or something,” Vogelbaum says wearily. Thank god the Minors only play seven innings. He’s getting tired. It’s sad to admit but he never really finds a common language with children. John is, by most counts, a singularly interesting child and precocious in many ways, but Vogelbaum still finds it hard to be patient when he gets excited over small, inconsequential things.

“It’s a whistle!” John says.

“Don’t blow it loudly,” Vogelbaum warns.

John puts the whistle in his mouth and blows into it very quietly even as he’s watching the game. The player at bat suddenly hits a homerun and John springs up, excited. Vogelbaum is already worried that he’ll do something stupid and take off into the air and reveal himself, but instead John slumps back down into the seat, spitting out the whistle that he crushed to pieces with his teeth.

“I broke it,” he says despondently.

“It’s alright,” Vogelbaum says in the most reassuring tone he can muster. “You get excited and you forget your strength. At least it was just a toy.”

John’s staring at the pieces of cheap plastic in his hands.

“Just throw it on the floor,” Vogelbaum says.

John looks at him questioningly.

“It’s a stadium. People throw peanut shells on the floor. They’ll come by to clean it up.”

John tilts his hands and lets the broken pieces fall on the floor, apparently still in disbelief that he’s allowed to litter. Vogelbaum realizes that he should clarify.

“You’re right. In most places you shouldn’t throw trash on the ground. This is an exception.”

John seems satisfied by that explanation and starts on the Crackerjack, with a small shudder and grimace when he first tastes it. “Wow, it’s very sweet!”

Vogelbaum dreads the sugar rush the boy might have on the drive back to Long Island. Eight hours on the road in total, all just to prepare this child for being among people in a safe venue.

“Dr. Vogelbaum?”

“Yes, what is it.”

“This is the best day I’ve ever had. Thank you so much for taking me outside to see this game!”

Vogelbaum can tell John wants to hug him, but they haven’t done so in years, and Vogelbaum’s body language remains closed off to dissuade him. But he does smile. “I’m glad, John. I’m glad to see you’re having fun.”

“Maybe we could go again?” he asks, but looks back down at the Crackerjack box when he receives no response.

[nanite-city]

i would like to ask you...do you have any idea when branch's brothers left him? i watched the movie three times and i'm just kind of confused. i assumed they all left when everyone was still in the troll tree, but it just kind of makes me wonder how would they even leave alive? and they just like casually leave too. then, clay talks about viva escaping the troll tree and at first i thought that maybe they left around that time. but i remembered their grandmother died before that, so obviously viv told him those things. which also makes me wonder why clay wouldn't know that their grandmother was dead? i mean, or at least worry her and branch didn't make it.

but guuuh it's all kind of confusing to me. they hardly mention the troll tree and don't even seem too bothered about the bergens (aside from clay? because in one scene he seems shocked when poppy mentions the bergens are cool now).

i guess i shouldn't be too concerned considering it's a kids movie but it's making me crazy wondering when they left and how did they escape If they left the troll tree. would have been nice to know if that was the case.

Yes, they did leave while everyone was still in the troll tree, as they were in their Grandma's pod when they were having their big final argument that resulted in the split-up. Gonna say just a few years before The Big Escape. I personally think it'd be Much easier for Trolls to leave one at a time, as opposed to entire big groups escaping all at once. Trollstice was only a once-a-year event at the time, so I think so long as they all went off in different directions, they likely got out of there completely unnoticed by the bergens. They're small and can hide pretty well, especially using their hair camouflage ability. I think the only reason less Trolls were able to do this is probably bc nobody really wanted to leave their homes or their families behind, which is pretty understandable. If youre going to make an escape like that, you have to do it in a way that will attract as little attention to your group as possible. Like digging a tunnel, for instance ! Which is exactly what the trolls did (I'm assuming) just a few years after that fated Brozone breakup. As for Clay, yeah, I got the impression he ran into Viva After the Troll's Big Escape, and that she told him the events of it. I wanna say he probably assumed Branch and their Grandma were able to escape with the majority of rest of them. It's not like Clay could really go back and check to be absolutely sure. And I think the reason he was more concerned about the Bergens than the other brothers is bc he spent a lot of time with Viva, who was Very deeply traumatized by the events of that day. The rest of Brozone had more of an opportunity to distance themselves from all of That (besides Branch bc he, like Viva, was part of that Big traumatizing Escape). BUT YEAH overall the movie could have spent a bit more time explaining how those events went down and specifically When it all happened but !! this is my interpretation of said events. so. yea i hope this helps !!

[pendragonthegreat]

okay so. i haven't made a real post about seeing dj in hollywood last week because it was really last minute that i decided to take the trip. and it was really different than when i saw him a few months ago (that i talked about here) and it was kind of crazy so i needed time to process it. i'm not going to put every detail in this post but i want to tell you guys the big thing that happened so here we go

the biggest difference between this event and creature feature was the amount of people there to see dj. there's probably more factors than the relative popularity of pendragon vs ayaotd (advertising, location, etc) but the difference was a lot. i mean there were maybe 4 other people who talked to him. which meant i talked to him for much much longer

i was determined to talk about stuff i hadn't heard dj talk about before but i also know at this point that dj is able to take control of the conversation and come up with stories to tell so i didn't really have a plan. so first of all he recognized me but i had to remind him from where. so then i had at admit that i am actually not from california and actually the entire opposite coast and he was so shocked. i showed him the pictures of my collection and i think that and the fact that i came from so far away has shattered any idea dj might have had that i'm a casual fan. but yeah he seemed flattered and not totally weirded out which i was a little nervous about

sooo we talked about pendragon of course—somehow got back onto book 10 (must every conversation about pendragon end up at the soldiers of halla somehow?) but as i said i didn't want to rehash old topics so i was like "you know when people talk about book 10 it always seems to be about either solara or the epilogue, but a lot of other stuff happened in that book" and he was like "you know what? you're right!" so we talked about spader and nevva and the general adventure in book 10 YAYYYY

we talked about sylo and the sylo movie and he told me some more about why they didn't go through with making the movie. basically the scripts were bad. i can say more detail if anyone cares. and then we talked about f29d which i think he was excited about because people don't talk to him about that show as much so i heard a few stories i've never heard before! the biggest thing was that the production of f29d was much closer to lost than i thought—both in terms of the crew and literally, physically, the filming locations were basically on the same beach. he told me sometimes they would go and steal props from lost (lmao) and they kept the lost airplane wreck and the f29d wreck in the same hangar!

okay enough rambling VVV THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART VVV

we started talking about his new book (if you don't know, his next book is going to be a continuation of the last story in Beyond Midnight) and i was saying i'm excited to read it and i'll be sure to look out for it. he said the book is written but he's not sure yet if he's going to self-publish it or not. then he told me this: that just for me, because i came from so far away and was a huge fan, he would send ME the manuscript for the book early. holy shit lol i can still hardly believe it. but i'm telling you this so you know dj really is such a nice guy. he talked to me for so long and he did not have to give me anything but it's such a wonderful special gift to have. :)

anyway the book did just have a sticker on the cover. but it's doubly special now with dj's second signature and personalization :D

[aeliussaionji]

Scattered thoughts on my relationship to media

I often muse "since criticism is subjective, how do we confidently asses a thing? Who decided what makes something 'good'?". hbomberguy's "RWBY is Disappointing" video is making me do just that.

Going in I expected him to reveal things I overlooked, as I can be pretty bad at noticing inconsistencies in media. But to the contrary, in the first half of the video, he focuses on talking about aspects of the show I don't care about, or even find endearing. The latter half(ish) focuses more on how the writers drop the ball in trying to tackle the subject of racism. In the rest of these scattered thoughts I am not referring to that- largely because I didn't watch it all at once, and much of my thoughts happened following my first intermission.

But first- something else entirely:

Some years ago, friends and I discussed our thoughts on the new star wars trilogy. The movie where Kylo and Rey team up for the fight in the throne room is easily my favorite of the three. The first entry was boring and the third one is a crime. But the second- it explores new ideas about the Force not being binary, has amazing visual scenes (some of which everyone hates for the lore implications), it has that friggin' amazing throne room fight where Light and Dark team up, after which there's a very compelling "we should join forces" moment. Given how much the movie had broken off traditional star wars thus far, I was genuinely uncertain what Rey would do, and in that moment I was more engaged than I had ever been with any star wars content before.

People who dislike that movie counter with "but why would the commander do X in scene Y? Makes no sense!" or "the whole sequence with the casino was bad". And to me that's… I literally don't remember those things exist until people complain about them. I am laser focused on what I enjoyed and tune out what didn't work for me. In the discussion I was having among friends, the primary complaint they had is how the second movie breaks continuity of the trilogy. As I see it, the first movie is unobjectionable and technically good, I never hear passionate criticism for that. It's also just a nothing burger. I've near forgotten the entire thing. Nothing happens in it to pique my interest. It seems that's true for others as well, given that any discussion of the trilogy I've heard very quickly becomes about what the second movie did wrong. Would the second movie be "better" if it were as unobjectionable as the first? Would the trilogy? Many seem to prefer simpler works with competent execution, which, I can get into as well! But when shards of creativity capture my attention, I find myself either forgiving flaws, forgetting them, or filling in blanks where no details were provided. So: I don't give a damn that the trilogy is now incoherent as a whole! I really, really, like certain scenes of the second movie and give zero thoughts to the rest.

To which my friend responds, "do that in a different story!" But does that mean they'd prefer something competently constructed and less creative, like the first movie was? After all, I see plenty of energy spent dressing down sloppy execution of the second movie, but hardly any energy is given to criticizing how creatively bankrupt the first movie is. In this dichotomy I've constructed, I feel I'm in the minority for preferring a creative mess.

(Also the reality of capitalism in Hollywood is that writers don't often have the freedom to just make new IPs; existing IPs are what's on the table and writers make due. That's how it's gonna be, might as well consider such stories to be standalone. Blame capitalism, not the writers.)

Back to RWBY: hbomberguy keeps complaining that RWBY's animation, writing, voice acting, songs, etc are all amateur. And, yeah man, it's literally a first work by amateurs. Halfway through his video, the point he keeps returning to is that the show has good ideas but the amateur efforts holds it back. And… yeah man, amateurs have good ideas sometimes? Ep1 pretty firmly establishes the level of quality the creators are bringing to the table, and I calibrated my expectations accordingly.

More than just calibrating my expectations, I can find the amateur aspect endearing, and I enjoy seeing the voice actors and animators and writers improve as the series goes along. It's like its own meta narrative- we the viewers get to witness the voice actors grow more confident over time. They come a long way from their early shy and clunky performances.

Now, I don't necessarily think that criticism should be "calibrated" to expectations, or that media should be graded on a curve. It's completely fair to judge what's on the table no matter who made it. I agree with basically all of hbomberguy's criticisms, I'm enjoying the detective work he has done to outline how and why the quality may have suffered, I'm laughing along with his jokes, and certainly his criticisms could help the team grow as creators. It's just that his delivery leaves me wondering if he's playing up his reactions for comedic effect, or if he genuinely can't engage with amateur efforts. This leads me to an introspective thought spiral- there are many examples of media I quite like where the execution is fumbled in some way. There are many examples of media with stellar execution, but I'm simply bored by the content. If I were to ever try and formally criticize something, what form should my criticism take in this framework? Should my criticism value execution over creativity? Excellent execution can be an art in of itself and I often do enjoy a job well done, but in general I don't derive much enjoyment from how technically well executed the art is. Should I, though? Are my media recommendations to friends worse off for my tendency to forget that which doesn't interest me? Should my critique spend time grading creators on form, even when the mistakes don't bother me personally, or is it enough to simply expand only on what I personally experience? Does loving content with poor execution mean I have mid taste in media?

There is another more personal layer to my thought spiral reaction. hbomberguy spends some time demonstrating that certain concepts in RWBY are not explained well and would be confusing to first time viewers. This leads me to think that I'm so accustomed to being out of the loop that I don't blink when something doesn't make sense, and in fact I might not even notice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

There are many works which avoid directly stating authorial intent, instead (hopefully) leaving enough information for the audience to arrive at the conclusion themselves. This is often stated as "respecting the intelligence of the audience". Problem is, I may not have enough context to work it out, and I'm not always on my A-game while consuming media. Probably most of the time I am very much not! I think I've come to assume that when I encounter a point of confusion, the failing is mine.

Me, enjoying a show as much of the subtler meaning flies over my head:

[canidkid]

sorry you're not having a very nice time, friend:( but! i'm here to send some more superstore stuff if that's alright! :)

Kelly;

seems to be a big fan of lifetime/hallmark movies, so i just imagine her setting up a movie night! making popcorn and bringing out the warmest blankets to make sure you stay cozy while watching the movie.

she also just seems like the type to go all out for any holiday! like having a small easter egg hunt at easter, or dressing you up in cute matching costumes at halloween! she'd definitely be the type to get personalized stockings with your name on them for christmas, and do adorable little christmas crafts.

Jonah;

small hc that after the golden globes party, jonah was just so excited to show kelly all of the old commercials she hadn't seen so he could rant about them and so that she would 'be in the know'.

also just the quote, "i never yell. even when i'm mad. i just push it down really deep, and then sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night panicked and sweaty for no reason. " it just seems like something that would cause him to regress. i like to think it was something that happened while he was still with kelly (since he said it after they had broken up), and she helped calm him down afterwards. just like she'd do after a nightmare.

*weep* thank u for this TwT

I've been missing superstore stuff hehuhehe

This somehow spawned a whole little fic,, so,,, for everyone's reading pleasure

I'd say it's more agere adjacent than anything explicitly mentioned, but I really really love the idea of Kelly jumping to calm Jonah down like "No questions asked, you're getting a kissy on the head. Ok, goodnight."

cw: brief description of anxiety

Kelly turned over in bed, throwing her arm over her face. What time was it?! And why was she awake again?? She tried to glance at her alarm clock, only to realize it wasn't there. Moreover, she wasn't in her own bed, or her own home for that matter. She'd been spending the night with Jonah more often than not recently. She almost let herself drift back to sleep when she remembered why she'd been woken up in the first place.

She propped herself up to look at her partner through sleepy eyes.

Kelly startled slightly when she saw the state he was in. Sitting upright against the headboard, staring at the opposite wall, hardly breathing. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. His blankets had been kicked far from where they should be, and Kelly could see him trembling even in the dark.

“Jonah..?” Kelly whispered, not wanting to scare her boyfriend. “Did you have a nightmare, what's wrong?” Jonah physically flinched when she spoke up, which sent a pang of something unpleasant straight to Kelly's stomach.

“I'm-good. No nightmare. I'm fine, I'm good I'm-” Jonah's hasty response caught in his throat and he brought his hands up to hide his face. He fell silent again, and all Kelly could hear was his ragged breathing. She tentatively placed a hand on his back, like her own mother had done when she'd had a bad dream as a kid. She felt her boyfriend sob silently in response.

“Whatever it was, um, you're safe here? Yeah?” The sleepy fog in Kelly's brain was steadily lifting as she tried to understand the situation. She moved her hand in slow circles against Jonah’s back in an attempt to comfort him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and turned to look at her, still teary. “S’ too much, sometimes,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and small, “..everything.”

Kelly nodded. She understood. “Oh, I know,” she cooed, “you've been dealing with so much lately. Work's been crazy and with trying to find a place to live and-”, she stopped in her tracks. “C’mere.”

Jonah readily let himself be pulled into her arms, immediately tucking his face against her neck. Kelly noticed how tense he felt, and instinctively began to rock slightly from side to side. One of her hands found purchase in his hair, her baby blue manicured nails drawing soothing circles across his scalp. She pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You don't have to think about any of that now.” She whispered.

They stayed like that for a while as Jonah's racing heartbeat slowed down, his muscles relaxed bit by bit - certainly aided by Kelly's expert comfort. Until, eventually, he just felt like a pile of sleepy goop in her embrace, instead of an anxious mess.

“Thanks”, he mumbled against her, feeling his cheeks heat up with the embarrassment of the whole situation. He felt so stupid and immature, like he should have rejected the comfort she offered and just…dealt with it. Like he always did.

Jonah shifted to sit beside Kelly, vehemently avoiding eye contact. “You should go back to sleep now. Sorry- sorry I woke you up.”

Kelly wasn't having that. She turned Jonah's face up with a gentle touch of her hand to make sure he was listening. “You don't have to go through everything by yourself, Pumpkin.” Kelly mentally kicked herself for letting the sillu pet name slip, but Jonah didn't seem to mind. He only responded with a tight-lipped nod, not wanting to cry again. She was just so sweet. Kelly gave a small smile before settling back down into her pillow. She held the corner of her blanket up, and Jonah accepted the invitation, crawling underneath and letting Kelly pull him close again.

…maybe it wasn't so bad to be fussed over.

[snowdropheart]

question meme

I was tagged by the ever-lovely @feeisamarshmallow for this question meme, so here we go!

1. Are you named after anyone? My middle names are family names, but my first name is actually after a radio host my dad really liked lol

2. When was the last time you cried? I actually hardly ever cry, but I cried for a good while yesterday, and it felt so good to finally get that release of emotion. I was also near tears the night before watching Umberto D for a class (he just loves his dog so much!!)

3. Do you have kids? I do not, but I have a deeply nurturing streak, and I fear I will want to have them someday

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yeah, I think so, but mostly just to people I’m really close to

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? Probably their hair and their sense of fashion (more so because I’m insecure and trying so suss out if I fit in than anything else lol). Also general vibe, if that makes sense

6. What's your eye color? Blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies can have happy endings if they want to! Lol. But probably happy endings, if I have to choose one of the two, but my all-time favourite is a melancholic ending

8. Any special talents? Hmmm, I have one double-jointed thumb, does that count? I consistently surprise people by knowing the names of trees/flowers/constellations/birds/etc, but I really only know the basics. I like to think I’m a pretty alright poet

9. Where were you born? Canada

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, watching TV/movies and thinking very hard about them, walking, singing, dancing like a maniac in my room, plucking out the 5 chords I know on the ukulele, reading when I’m not swamped by theory readings for class lol

11. Do you have any pets? No, but I’m desperate for a cat. My roommate is currently cat-sitting for a friend, and, to quote the great Rosa Diaz: “I’ve only [known] Sebastian for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself”

12. What sports do you play/ have you played? I am probably the least athletic person of all time, but I had track and field potential as an 11 year old and if I didn’t have Brain Problems, I probably would have gone on to be sporty

13. How tall are you? I’m pretty sure I’m exactly average lol

14. Favorite subject at school? In high school, I loved drama with all my heart; in uni, I took a Canadian cinema class last year that was incredible. We watched Last Night, which is now one of my favourite films of all time. I also took a European history class in second year that was super interesting

15. Dream Job? I have secret indie singer-songwriter dreams. In my head, I sometimes pretend my poems are songs and I’m a Phoebe Bridgers type who plays my melancholic little acoustic guitar and sings them, but I have very little instrument ability in real life, and no idea how to construct a melody.

I also want to just live by the lake with a cat and a garden and lots of friends around

Thank you for the tag @feeisamarshmallow! I super low-key no pressure at all tag @yellowfog4 @goneahead and anyone who wants to do this <3

[heartxshaped-bruises]

mun’s taste in muses: 2, 5 , 11

15 QUESTIONS ABOUT THE MUN'S TASTE IN MUSES !!

                                                        ✧･ﾟ  𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃.

2. Are there any tropes that pull you in or that you realise are reoccuring in your muses?

I'm not sure if this question means tropes that you could find all across my muses or if it concerns themes that are reoccuring in them whenever there's a new interaction. In the first case I'd say that some of them have a hard time opening up and being their authentic self, hiding usually behind a snarkier attitude than most people. But that only concerns the muses that kind of have recycled traits from muses I already kicked off this blog and my old ones ages ago. So that's hardly a surprise. Like, if I split up one muse and distributed some of their characteristics between two or more, you know? In the second, ofc some of my muses have themes and tendencies that will always follow them around bc it's tied to their personality or life. Referring to Joe f. e. bc he gets attached very easily and hence, the risk of obsessing over someone is omni-present. Luce has interacted with many other muses who enable him in his bad habits and vice versa. I think Abel has only met two people outside of the crime network with whom he ever interacted and who wasn't the heir to another mob family, too. Some things are just more likely, I suppose.

5. Who is / was your favourite muse of all time to play?

Definitely Jeremy. Let’s just say that the experience at my old HS got me very interested in how teenagers can turn into the darkest versions of themselves due to unfortunate circumstances and the worst of timing. What flips the switch in their head and makes them spiral, closed off, a target, the antagonist of their own story and in the one of everyone else... that kind of stuff. A very troubled kid who was obsessed with the concept of revenge, totally caught up in his unhealthy, limited view of things. Spending his time in internet forums, living out his fantasies online and talking to others with the same ideas, rooted in a coping mechanism that grew into something horrible. I think he was my favorite muse to write because he felt the most authentic. Writing him was really some experience and paid off a lot, considering the movie project it resulted in. It got me into movie school and also gave me the life-long interest to educate myself on this subject and dive deep into reading and writing scientific papers, books, watching documentaries, talking to others who were involved or interested in those things. His character had a very important impact on me as a person & filmmaker and it reflects in the themes I pick up in my work.

11. Have you ever built or picked up a muse because you wanted to use a certain faceclaim? How did it go?

Haven't we all ?? xD Yeah, ofc that happened. I don't know, I'm a visual person. That's why I do films, it's what tickles my creativity and my synesthesia always spits out some interesting things I can work with. Examples on here would be Emry (the most obvious lbr), Max, Zelda, Luce and Casper and some old muses that aren't on this blog anymore. The rest either used to have a different FC or got it after I wrote the character. Like, sometimes there are those FCs I would love to write but not without the right character who I know is going to be a real thing. I can't really say if it goes worse or better than the other way around. I don't sense any difference.

[bbyboybucket]

Thinking about how excited I am to watch MoM on Friday, then thinking about how I watched the first Dr. Strange in theatres, then thinking about how that was almost six years ago, then thinking about how I’m still so deeply bothered by the events of that night that I refuse to rewatch the first movie because it brings back bad memories, then thinking about how maybe I should let it go because it’s been 6 years, but then also thinking about how that night was the very start of the destruction of very being and entire ego and my soul 😌✨

[plus-size-reader]

Cute

Void/Stiles Stilinski x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2939 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader finally gets up the courage to tell Stiles about her feelings for him but Stiles isn’t really himself at the time. 

—————————————————————————————————

You should have seen this coming.

Of course Stiles was never going to go for a girl like you. All your lives he had been absolutely obsessed with Lydia Martin and lord knows you looked nothing like her. You were never going to look anything like her, but it was easy to ignore when it was just her.

Stiles had always liked her, drooling over her in math class and talking about her every chance he got but you both knew he had about as much of a chance with her as you did with him.

It wasn’t going to happen.

...but now he had Malia.

She was just as thin and gorgeous as Lydia was, but she was actually into him. She wanted to go out with him and there was nothing stopping them from going for it, why would there be?

It wasn’t like Stiles had any clue that you had been in love with him since middle school or that you were actively more and more in love with him as time went on.

He didn’t know you thought about him as much as he thought about them, or beat yourself up because you were never going to be a size three like Lydia was.

You adored him, but he was never going to see that.

It made you feel so empty, like the last seven years didn’t mean anything to him which wasn’t even close to true. You knew that both Scott and Stiles cared a lot for you, like they cared for each other but it wasn’t enough.

You wanted Stiles to daydream about you, to see you, because you were right in front of him. You would have done anything for him, and did, but for some reason, it was still like you didn’t exist.

It was getting old.

Really old, and the more you thought about it, the more the reality of the situation upset you. You had been there for Stiles all his life.

You were right by his side when his mom got sick, and beat up Jackson Whittemore once in the eighth grade for calling him a geek, but none of that seemed to matter to him.

Stiles still couldn’t see you.

“You’ve been staring at them for thirty minutes” Scott hummed, shaking you out of your thoughts with a bump to your shoulder with his own. You were searching for anything that could explain the strange occurrences around here as of late, but there was nothing.

It wasn’t your fault watching Stiles canoodle with his new girlfriend was more entertaining than looking through some dusty old book.

“I have not” you sighed, shooting him an almost defensive look as you glanced back down at the book in question. Had he been anyone else you may have pretended to have your shit together, but Scott knew better.

He knew the two of you better than anyone else in the world, and even if he wasn’t the true alpha, which he also happened to be, it wasn’t hard to see what was going on.

You clearly liked him, in a way that wasn’t just platonic like your relationship was. You had never gotten so shook up when Scott was seeing a girl, he would have noticed.

“It’s okay, I get it” he tried, hoping that you weren’t going to try and shut him out over this again. Scott had tried to have this conversation with you a few times already, and it never worked out the way he wanted.

You always got cagey and didn’t want to talk about it.

“No you don’t, Scott. You’ve dated every girl you ever had a crush on, because you’re you” you grumbled, poking him in the abs as aggressively as you could without hurting him to prove your point.

He didn’t ever have to worry about the things you did.

Not only was Scott one of the sweetest and most brave men you’d ever known, but he also couldn’t have been in better shape if he wanted to. He looked like one of those perfectly sculpted men in the movies, with six pack abs and chiseled muscles.

It wasn’t like he constantly had to live with the knowledge that the person he loved most in this world didn’t love him back because he wasn’t good enough. You knew that Stiles didn’t feel the same way about you because you weren’t as skinny as you could have been, or as pretty as the others were.

At this point, you doubted he even saw you as a girl at all because you were just his best friend, and that was it. That was what you’d always been and considering how oblivious he was to the feelings you had for him, it wasn’t surprising.

You weren’t even on his radar in that way.

“First of all, ow! Second of all, you’re super cute, why wouldn’t he be into you?” Scott wondered, that same supportive, loving tone that was always in his voice making itself known to you. He really did believe that, not that it made you feel better.

Cute.

That was all you were ever going to be.

Puppies were cute, and everyone loved them but no one was actively dreaming of taking their favorite puppy out on a date or dreaming about a puppy out loud to their friends. You didn’t date someone just because they were cute, which was the whole problem.

You didn’t want to be cute.

You wanted to be beautiful, to be hot, to be drop dead gorgeous in the way that Lydia was, and it killed you every day that you weren’t.

“Thanks Scott, but I don’t think cute is gonna cut it” you decided, closing the book in front of you as a way of closing this conversation before getting up and heading out of the library.

It didn’t make any sense to Scott.

It was clear to him that you and Stiles had something that could very well be a great relationship but you kept getting in your own way and it wasn’t like Stiles knew what he was doing. 

Some days, Scott worried he’d leave his head at home if it wasn’t attached.

“Hey Y/N, think about it” he called, catching the way you turned around to look at him before heading out to the parking lot.

There was no way Stiles was going to come to the conclusion that you cared about him as anything more than a friend on his own, and until you got that push to do it yourself, it wasn’t going to happen.

He just had to wait for one or both of you to take that chance.

~

Scott had a point.

Of course he did, Scott usually had a point as much as you hated to admit it. You were super cute, and while it might not have been enough, there really weren’t that many reasons why Stiles wouldn’t be into you.

Now, all you had to do was figure out what you were going to do about it, before all desire to do so left your body completely if it hadn’t already. 

You had only been trying to sike yourself up about this for the past hour in the rear view mirror and it just wasn’t happening.

You felt like an idiot.

Here you were, sitting across the street from Stiles’ house like a creep, without a single idea of what you were actually going to say to him if you ever made it to his front door. It didn’t make any sense, this was a guy you’d known since you were a kid.

You had never had a problem saying anything to him or doing whatever you wanted, but now, the idea of even looking him in the face was enough to make you want to be sick. It was hardly fair but you had done this to yourself after all.

It was perfectly fine before, even if you were unhappy. No one else had to know that you had feelings for him and you could just suffer in silence but now that you had Scott in your corner, it was hard not to want to try.

Surely your shared best friend was the best authority on whether or not there was anything between you and Stiles. If anyone was going to know anything, it was the true alpha, after all. 

That was like, his whole thing.

“You can do this. You’ve fought monsters, this is just Stiles” you reminded yourself, before pushing the mirror away completely, getting out of the car before you could buckle back up and drive home. It was now or never, and whatever happens, happens.

You couldn’t worry about it now.

“Hey Stiles, are you feeling better?” you hummed, the words barely registering under your breath as you tried to figure out what you wanted to say. You’d had this nightmare a million times over but you’d never actually considered doing it on your own.

Now that you were, the words just weren’t coming to you like they should have been.

“I just had something I wanted to run by you” you tried, testing out how that would sound before immediately scrapping it. That sounded like you were making some kind of business proposal and you certainly weren’t.

It had to be perfect.

Not that you had time to actually nail down what you wanted to say before you found yourself at his front door, already having knocked out of habit. Again, you briefly considered sprinting back to your car before it opened but you couldn’t make your feet move.

You knew that you had to do this.

“Hey Stiles, I was hoping we could talk” the words left your lips before you could police them, as soon as the door opened. You knew that it was hardly the smoothest you could have been but at this point, there was nothing between the two of you to soften the blow.

You just had to get this over with. If he accepted your feelings, he accepted them but if he didn’t, there was nothing you could do to change that either.

Naturally, those words freaked Stiles out a little because he assumed something terrible had happened but you didn’t seem as panicked as you should have been if someone was dying. This was a little more than your usual high strung but not by much.

“Yeah for sure, are you okay?” he allowed, moving away from the doorframe to let you in before closing the door behind you both. His dad was working late again, so it would just be the two of you but that had never been a problem before.

Especially lately, you and Stiles had killed time on several nights when Scott was busy with the pack or on date night. It wasn’t strange for you to be alone together, normally but there was a strange air about it today.

You just couldn’t tell if it was coming from him or you.

You knew that Stiles had been having a little trouble sleeping lately, and the nightmares were driving him crazy but the pack was going to handle it. 

The pack always took care of those kinds of things and you both knew Scott wasn’t going to let anything happen to him.

All he had to do was wait it out and try to relax in the meantime.

…And of course, you were having a hard time being your calm and collected self as you tried to figure out the best way to go about this whole thing.

It wasn’t every day you confessed your feelings to your best friend after all.

“I’m alright, I just have something I want to talk to you about is all” you shrugged, sitting down on the couch. This was a lot harder to do than you could have ever thought, and it just seemed like it wasn’t going anywhere.

There was only so much stalling you could do before you had to tell him the truth.

“Okay, I guess I’m just gonna put it all out there,” you sighed, your hands falling on your thighs. This was your last chance to walk away and no one would ever have to know what it was you were hiding, and that almost seemed like the right thing to do.

Though, the way he was looking at you took that all away.

You knew that if you ever had a chance at being with him in the way you wanted, you had to be able to tell him how you felt, at the very least.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m in love-with you” you allowed, exhaling as if you’d been holding that in your lungs all this time, which you pretty much had. You had no idea how this was supposed to feel, but you were pretty confident it wasn’t like this.

He didn’t even say anything at first.

All you could see was Stiles rubbing his temple out of the corner of your eye, his eyes screwed shut. It was hardly the reaction you had been expecting but at that moment, it didn’t even matter. You knew what he’d been going through, and it worried you.

It always worried you, especially knowing about his mom and all the stress he’d been under lately. 

Needless to say, you were more than happy to forget about everything you’d just said in favor of making sure he was alright, especially if your words had upset him.

If he didn’t feel the same, you would have happily moved on as if this moment had never happened. It would be easier than having to swallow that rejection.

You didn’t know if you could handle that after all this.

You had been hiding your feelings for Stiles all this time, and now that you said it out loud, you hoped you’d feel better but you just didn’t. This whole thing was really starting to seem like a mistake, and you didn’t even know everything yet.

Neither did Stiles.

In reality, he was more than thrilled at your confession but something was wrong. He felt like he wasn’t in control, like he wasn’t even in his own body anymore. It didn’t make any sense but he had never had a feeling like this before.

Stiles was vulnerable.

Before this moment, the Nogitsune hadn’t been able to break through to the surface but you provided the crack in his armor that it needed to escape. It was perfect, at least for the void, it certainly wasn't going to be pleasant for you.

After all, it had been a long time since it had seen the light of day and it was hungry, hungry and wearing your little lover boy like a cheap Halloween costume. Of course it was going to use that against you, void would be an idiot not to.

Your love for the boy made you little more than an exposed nerve, one that the Nogitsune could poke and prod at all it pleased until it was satisfied.

...and it certainly intended to.

All at once, there was a huge change in the room between the two of you, and more specifically, in Stiles. 

There was a cold, darkness to him that you had never seen which you didn’t even realize was there until he started laughing, a deep chuckle leaving his throat.

You weren’t ready for it, but what you were less ready for was what happened when he spoke.

“Did you really think I could ever feel like that, for you? We both know that’s a little crazy” he scoffed, an almost mocking tone that didn’t sound like Stiles at all. It shocked you, in all honesty, but not for the reason you may have thought.

Deep down, you knew that Stiles wouldn’t be interested in you but you never could have imagined him being so aggressive and cruel in his rejection of you.

He’d never spoken to anyone like that before, especially not you.

“I just-” you tried, but he stopped you before you could even try to get through this whole thing with any dignity at all. For the Nogitsune, this was all fun and games, but for you, it was so much more than that.

This was quite possibly the worst moment of your life.

“You aren’t blind, you had to have known this wasn’t going to work out the way you wanted. I mean, look at you?”

Stiles was screaming, using everything he had to try and get through to you, to overpower whatever this thing in his head was, but he couldn’t make it happen. It was too much, too strong, and all he could do was sit back and let it happen.

He knew it was breaking your heart, he could see it in your face but no matter how hard he fought, there was nothing he could do to get back in control. He felt like he was locked in a cage in his own head, and someone else had the key.

He just didn't know who.

You sat there for a second more as you tried to process whatever it was that was happening right now before you felt tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, and decided that it was probably time to leave.

Staying here any longer was just going to make this worse. Besides, it wasn’t as if Stiles was in the mood to talk this out or even treat you like a person.

Clearly, Scott was wrong, being cute wasn’t enough to make someone care about you.

[x-reader-writer]

Hii can I request for Peter parker x male reader.

The reader is taller than him, dominant and has piercings, and peter comes out to the avengers as bi and tells them that he has a boyfriend. They're sceptical first but then they see peter sitting on readers lap and them being affectionate and sweet and laughing at jokes they make.

If this contains anything that makes you uncomfortable pls ignore this.

Thank uuu.

A/N: Hi!! Of course you can. I don't do nsfw posts, but I can make the reader seem more confident to fill that gap!

Sorry it's taken so long!! I hope this is alright!

I'm coming out

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male! Reader

~~~~~

"Baby, it's gonna be okay."

"But what if it's not! What if they yell, or they hate me, or Mr. Stark wants to never see me again, or-"

You quickly grab your boyfriend's hands to stop him from talking. "Babe, none of that will happen," you say calmly, with a gentle tone. "Do you know why? It's because they're decent people who adore you, Pete, just like I do."

"You think so?" Peter asks nervously, blushing from the compliment from his partner.

"I know so," you reply, a gentle smile gracing your face.

~~~~~

Peter was stood in the elevator, his foot anxiously tapping on the slightly metallic flooring. He lets out a long, deep breath, trying to control his anxiety.

The doors then open, on the penthouse of the Avengers Tower (formerly Stark Tower). Peter steps out and looks around the common room.

All of the Avengers were sat on the sofas and little chairs, lounging around and watching a Disney movie. Peter was amused slightly as he saw that Bucky was sat on Sam's lap as a joke (Peter could tell he just wanted to sit there-).

Peter then quietly clears his throat. It wasn't the best idea, as the movie was playing quite loudly, so nobody could hear him. He takes a deep breath and then loudly cough.

Everyone in the room jumps, even causing Tony to make his popcorn go flying. Everyone looks over at the teen, who nervously rubs his arm.

"Oh hey, Pete," Tony says, picking up a handful of his popcorn that had landed on his lap. "What're you doing here? It's not Friday yet."

"Sorry about scaring you all," Peter says quickly. He then replies to his mentor saying, "Yeah, sorry about coming earlier than expected Mr. Stark, but I wanted to talk to you. To you all."

"What is it, son?" Steve asks, smiling gently at the teen (no, Peter isn't actually his son, Steve's just old). Peter stays looking awkward and nervous, so he encourages, "It's okay, we're here for whatever it is, Peter."

"I'm bisexual," Peter blurts out. The room goes silent. He then quietly mumbles, "And I have a boyfriend."

Peter grips at his arm tightly waiting for some type of reaction, the silence dragging on.

"No," is the first thing said after minutes of silence. Unsurprisingly, it was Steve who had said this. Peter had kind of expected him and Bucky to react slightly badly towards this as they were from a different time period where they didn't accept gay people.

Peter then feels hope as he sees Tony going to say something. However it is shattered when the words 'I'm sorry Pete, but bisexuality isn't a thing' come out of his mentors mouth.

"What?" Peter whimpers, taking a step back in surprise and hurt.

"Tony, that's a bit harsh," Natasha says, glaring at the man. She then looks at Peter with a straight face and states, "However, that doesn't mean that you are Bisexual. You're just confused and need to find the right girl for you."

Peter shakes his head and turns back around to leave the penthouse, ignoring the calls from the avengers, especially the shouts and demands to come back and to stop being stupid.

~~~~~

Peter was sat in your lap, crying into your shoulder. You were gently shushing him and smoothing his hair, whispering in his ear it was okay.

"I'm really sorry, Petey, I pushed you into this-"

"It's not your fault," Peter replies, sniffling as he wiped his nose.

"And it's not yours either," you reply, gently poking his chest to prove your point. "They were wrong to say that and do that to you, I'm glad I was here waiting for you so you could come to me. Otherwise, I don't know what would have happened."

Peter nods and sniffles, wiping his nose with his hand. You chuckle softly and grab a tissue from your pocket (what? Peter cried a lot, you liked to be prepared!) and hand it to him with a smile. He smiles back at you and blows his nose.

"Better, Dumbo?" You ask, teasing him with the name.

Peter giggles and says, "Better, n/n."

You grin and then say, "uh oh, I see someone coming.." Peter looks at you confused, but you simply raise your hands slowly. Peter pales slightly before squealing and trying to get away from you as you start tickling his sides. He laughs and giggles, kicking and squirming on your lap. "Tickle monster!"

After a few minutes, Peter's sad tears had turned into tears of laughter. So you stopped and smirked at him as he was still laughing and blushing from the tickle 'fight'.

You lean down and kiss his nose, which makes him blush gently. then you start kissing all over his face, making him a blushing mess.

"Ksh, mission complete boys, ksh," you state, pretending you had a Walkie talkie, making Peter giggle at you and move up to cuddle up to you. You grin and gently smooth his back.

"And who are you?" A male voice says, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere between the two.

You look up and glare at the group who had approached you. The Avengers. The ones who hurt your boyfriend.

"What do you want?"

"We heard from security there was a random guy sat here, so we came to see who you were, and then we saw you touching up Peter," Clint says, glaring at you.

"Excuse me?" You state, shocked at what he had said, as you had hardly even touched your boyfriend, only holding his head and hugging him.

"Who. Are. You?" Bucky says, getting angry.

"I'm Y/n L/n, aka, Peter's boyfriend," you growl. You then hold Peter gently as you pull him closer, feeling extra protective over him as everyone starts yelling their complaints and how much they disagreed.

"What on Midgard is going on here?" You hear a booming voice call out.

Both you and Peter look over first. You see that the owner of the voice was Thor Odinson, next to him was stood a very pissed looking Loki.

"I think we both know what is happening here, brother," Loki replies, a muscle in their forehead spasming, almost comically. You would have found it amusing if not for the situation at hand.

Tony replies to Thor's question, ignoring Loki had said anything, "Peter is apparently 'Bisexual' and this random guy is his 'boyfriend'. I'm thinking he's a hydra agents and has brainwashed-"

"Enough!" Thor yells, glaring at Tony and the group. "How dare you make rude comments about these poor boys! Bisexuality is a common thing among Asgardians, Loki himself is one! Bisexuality is common amongst many things, even the animals on your own planet are bisexual, gay or any of the other LGBTQ community! You should not slander such a group, especially as they are such a huge quantity of the population, and not only of this planet or your species!"

The room was silent, even you included.

Loki walks over to Peter and gently pat's his head, their face soft and a gentle smile was placed upon their lips. "You are the Peter child, yes?" The brunette nods at the god, who smiles more in return. "Here is a little secret of my own that I've been keeping from everyone, that I shall share. It will mean that I'm joining you in, as Midgardians say, 'coming out'."

Loki then turns to the group and says, "I have something to say too. I, myself, am genderfluid. And I identify as a female today."

The room is silent again.

"I have a sister!" Thor says excitedly, picking Loki up and twirling her around. Loki smiles, happy Thor had accepted her.

"Woah, that's so cool, Ms. Loki!" Peter squeals, smiling brightly. "Oh wait, do you still want to be called that?"

"Yes, Loki is perfectly fine, child" she replies, smiling back.

[goldenharmony]

I’ll try to give some solace here (and to myself lol). @theultracharmingladynoire ​

The mangaka, Akasaka is a bit of a troll. Here’s a page out of an AU omake chapter of Kaguya-sama, where he makes fun of how other manga authors try to justify incest (Shirogane and Kei have a really normal sibling relationship in actual canon - I find it sad that I find this part refreshing in Kaguya-sama).

In chapter 180 of Kaguya-sama, Akasaka sets up the idea of the guys peeking into the girls’ bath.

But the following chapter, starts with a character pointing out that its a crime, and what the other boys were actually planning to do was just check out the girls as they came out of the bath because they thought wet hair looked hot.

There are other examples too, but you catch my drift on the author liking to troll its readers. Akasaka is also collaborating with Mengo Yokoyari, who while is only the artist, has been said to influence the story of Oshi no Ko in some areas. As someone who only watched 4 eps of Scum’s Wish, her influence is seen in stuff like Melt’s backstory, Kana’s scandal arc, and...this current situation with Ruby. She also seems to love taboo relationships so that’s not very re-assuring.

But let’s be real, the only girl Aqua has canonically shown interest in across the 2 years in-universe is Kana, even though he tried for a year to fall in love with Akane but wasn’t able to. I would just feel sorry for Akane at that point that someone as great as her wasn’t able to sway Aqua but his sister could. 

So yeah, incest ending is definitely not happening unless Akasaka really wanted to troll all readers into a shitty ending lol (Unless Aqua thinks it’ll somehow be useful for his revenge to lead Ruby on????? idk that’s the most I can come up with). The real thing to be concerned about is how long it will take for the resolution of Ruby’s situation to be resolved (not if but when, because I’m sure they will be resolved). Because the longer that it is delayed, the longer we have to sit in anxiety and be forced to see incest memes everywhere. 🤡 

I’m hoping for it to get resolved in the next few chapters rather than Ruby choosing to keep her feelings locked away and confess after the movie, because I want a phase in the manga where people are able to look at their relationship as just normal siblings without the paranoia/memes. Plus, Ruby and Aqua’s interactions on their own up till now have been very normal without any weird tension. I can’t say the same for certain other animes that try to do an incest angle, even if its unrequited. 

I also try to tell myself that the first few chapters of Oshi no Ko had that anime-weirdness to them, but when binging the manga or starting the anime, it hardly gets noticed since people move past it really fast and we have a really peak moment at the end of the prologue arc. So for now, I’m willing to cut a bit of slack as long as we HOPEFULLY resolve this awkwardness in a few chapters. 

Also, I’m certain Akasaka decided to go on a week hiatus after that chapter to be funny considering he already went on a week hiatus after chapter 121, and usually has his breaks more spread out based on the frequency for Kaguya-sama and Oshi no Ko up till now. 

ive got faith in the mangaka of oshi no ko not to turn this weird real quick but also I am getting terrible usagi drop flashbacks lmao