#you can consider this a direct sequel to the one i just put up

[reiding-writing]

Hi 💜 can i pretty please request a fem!Reader where she looks younger than she actually is and people are often condescending to her but bf spence always has our back

(under)qualified [ s.r ]

WARNINGS: fem!reader, ageism, dick of a character that i made up, reader gets angry

spencer reid x cold!reader | hurt/comfort? | 2.1k |

series masterlist!!

a/n: so i unintentionally self projected on this and it ended up as an unintentional sequel to my cold!reader fic sorry 😭🫶

main masterlist!!

“Yes I understand that but if you’d just let me-“ Your attempt is immediately shut down by the man in front of you raising his hand like you’re a child who’s spoken out of turn.

You’d been trying for almost forty five minutes to reason with him, but every single thing that you said was dismissed like you were asking him for cookies after bed time instead of putting your two cents forward as a qualified psychologist on the mental state that the unsub you were tracking down was likely to be in.

“If you want to be useful, why don’t you go and make me a coffee? You can do that can’t you?” The look he gave you made you want to tear out your eyes so you couldn’t see him anymore and then force them down his mouth so you didn’t have to hear him anymore.

You swallow your pride with a clench of your fists, exhaling slowly through your nose. “…Yes Sir,”

“Splenda and skim,”

If he weren’t your superior you’d shove his splenda right up his asshole and watch it leak down his legs like a five year old who wets the bed.

You stuff the urge to slam the door on your exit into the back of your head, although you’re sure you are basically steaming from the ears by the time you reach the coffee machine.

You may well have been physically steaming from the ears if the looks from your teammates had anything to say about it.

“Something tells me she’s not getting along with Dr. Lancaster too well-“ Morgan’s assessment was met with agreement from Emily and a concerned glance in your direction from Spencer.

“Does anyone get along with him? Even Hotch can’t stand the guy,” Emily’s eyes turn towards where he stands in the conference room. “I still don’t get why he’s even here,”

“Strauss thinks he’s a valuable asset to the team-“ Spencer speaks as he stands, eyes still locked on your back as he leaves Morgan and Emily at the desk to make sure that you’re alright.

“Hey,” You look like your about to rip him to shreds as you turn towards him, although the minute you realise that it’s just Spencer and not the pain up your ass that is Dr. Lancaster your expression softens tenfold. “Are you- uh- Are you okay?”

That split second of venom in your facial features seems to knock the wind out of Spencer’s sails, and he’s increasingly glad that he’s not the one on the end of your rage.

“Oh i’m just grand,” You tone is dripping with sarcasm, and he watches as you unscrew one of the salt shakers and scoop a half teaspoon into the mug in front of you.

“Uh-” He has half the mind to question your actions, but the contempt that returns to your eyes as you turn them down to the coffee in front of you tells him that it’s most likely for the Doctor still in the conference room, and considering you were practically burning holes in everything you saw when you left the room yourself, he figured that this was you playing nice.

“You’d think that nobody under the age of fifty is allowed to have a PhD I swear-“ You don’t need any prompting to start spilling all of your anger for Spencer to hear.

“‘You’re too young to have a PhD’ he says, ‘go and make me a coffee’, oh I’ll make you a cup of coffee alright, and hopefully it’ll rot your intestines as you drink it,” You’re just rambling to yourself at this point, and Spencer purses his lips into a line as he listens to you, unsure whether to interject or just let you rant. “I’m a qualified psychologist for god’s sake, not a fucking coffee runner.”

He definitely knows how it feels to have your intelligence questioned because of your age, but in your case you weren’t even exceptionally young for your education, even if you looked a few years younger than you actually were.

You were 23 when you got your PhD. Which yes was a few years younger than the average person, didn’t make you any less qualified than someone like Dr. Lancaster who’d had his PhD for over two decades.

If anything it probably made you more qualified. Social sciences like Psychology changed all the time, and someone who was stuck in the mindset of what it was like twenty years ago would probably overlook things younger specialists would see immediately.

He guessed that was probably what was happening with you and Dr. Lancaster back in the conference room.

“Would you like me to speak with him?” Spencer’s tone carries nothing but sweetness, as well as a slight hesitation in the possibility of increasing your frustration rather than helping you quell it.

“It’s fine Reid, I’ve got it.” You tone is notably filled with much lest resentment as you turn down his offer, but he can still hear the lingering frustration in your words. He trails behind you regardless, following as you re-enter the conference room with the coffee mug held in your hand and a feigned smile on your face.

He’s sure you can handle yourself, he’s just there for backup. Just in case.

“There you are, I was starting to think you couldn’t even find your way to the coffee machine,” You force yourself to bite your tongue and just give him the coffee before retreating to the opposite side of the conference room to watch him drink it, ensuring a quick escape if he doesn’t take kindly to the salty beverage.

You could see the instant shift in his facial expression as he took the first sip, his eyes immediately turning towards you and Spencer with a disgusted look on his face. “You call this coffee? It’s disgusting.” He discards the cup on the table, glaring daggers into your forehead.

“Guess I’m not qualified enough to make it,” You shrug with an overly nonchalant expression. “You know what they say, you want something done right you gotta do it yourself,”

“You little-” Dr. Lancaster was the one steaming from the ears now, and Spencer had to step in to stop the two of you getting into a full blown argument.

“You know studies have shown that if you view something pessimistically before you experience it, you’re more likely come out with a negative opinion afterwards,” Spencer’s sentence accuses the doctor of mentally disregarding the coffee because of his distaste for you rather than the fact that you put half a teaspoon of salt in the drink.

You have to suppress a small smile at his interjection. Spencer Reid. Helping you get away with purposefully tampering with a superior’s cup of coffee because you were petty over his condescension. Who would’ve thought.

You can see Dr. Lancaster open his mouth to retort, but Spencer doesn’t give him the chance. “Is this the psychological profile you’re working on? There’s still a lot of gaps in it,”

Spencer reads the board with a raised eyebrow. Some of what’s written makes absolutely zero sense and he’s beginning to wonder whether Dr. Lancaster was even a ‘doctor’ at all. Although it was at least much easier to read than when you’d scrawl out your own profiles. But he’d leave that part out when talking to you about this later.

“You’ve ruled out the possibility of deluded fantasies as part of the MO?” That was the oddest part to Spencer. The unsub showed a clear repetitive pattern in how he’d kill his victims, making the idea of delusion the literal first thing to look into as part of their psychology. He glanced at you as you spoke and you gave him a shrug of your shoulders and a shake of your head that told him exactly how frustrating the last hour of your life had been.

“Are you questioning my decisions?” Dr. Lancaster’s voice was just as harsh to Spencer as it was to you, and you had half the mind to pour the rest of the coffee you made him over his head and hope the salt got in his eyes and blinded him.

“Well, I do have my Bachelor’s in Psychology so I feel I have an adequate knowledge on the subject, although I’m sure our psychological expert would be a better person to assess the holes in your profile,” Spencer gestures his head over to you as he speaks, and you can see the anger rise into Dr. Lancaster’s face like one of those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes.

By now your sure your smile at Spencer’s interjections is visible, and your not even sure that you’re trying to hide it anymore.

“How dare you suggest that my methods are inadequate,”

“With all due respect sir, psychology is an ever-changing science, and your… methods are not as effective as they used to be back when you used to work with the BAU twenty years ago,”

“We’re on a time limit here, so either you can work with me, or i’ll make my own profile and pitch it to Hotch separately,” You take a seat on the edge of the conference table and gesture your hands outwards.

Dr. Lancaster looked like he was about to blow a fuse, and if he was any older you’d be convinced he was about to have a heart attack and die right there in the middle of the room from rage.

He looked absolutely astounded at your tag teaming, and you’re sure that the both of you being in your early thirties whilst he was in his late sixties was not helping with the seething anger that was showing all over his face. “You two have some nerve speaking to your superior like this. I will be bringing this up to Chief Strauss, believe me.”

He didn’t give either of you the time to say anything else as he pushed past Spencer to leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Talk about immature, you’d think he was a child,” Your final jab is met by a small laugh from Spencer, and you shoot him a small smile of thanks that makes his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Spencer gives you that perfectly awkward endearing smile as he retreats to the door of the room and you almost melt at the sight.

He’d really gone out of his way to deal with the asshole plaguing your work to no real benefit of his own. You wouldn’t lie, it was kind of attractive seeing Spencer shut him down like that, but you’d keep that to yourself when you talked about this later.

“Spencer,”

You caught him with the door half open, hand he looked at you with the eyes of a puppy who’d just been praised for spinning in a circle rather than an FBI agent who’d been called his first name by his coworker.

His eyes were big and round and blinking softly at you, his pupils blending into the honey brown of his irises and making his gaze even more puppy dog like.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,”

[edgeray]

I just read your dragon arle x dragon hunter reader fic and I can't stop rereading it. Can I request either the dragon sibs & arlecchino's pov of the fic or a continuation of the fic (either of just reader's daily life now that they've been adopted by a dragon family or of arlecchino and (maybe) the dragon babies having human forms and surprising the reader with them (maybe both))?

Also could I be 🏹 anon? (I'm not the one who requested dragon arle x dragon hunter reader but damn do I wish I was)

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -  Part 1 here I'M BACKKKKKKKKKK. Okay, wow, uh, hi, anons! Yes, you can be 🏹 anon, I added you to the list a while ago. To the anon that was asking for readers to fight off other dragon hunters, if you request again, give yourself a name/emoji like my other wonderful anons :). 🍎 anon, I'm not sure what you mean by real form, but I had the real form for Arlecchino as her human form.  If it wasn't clear, I thought I was just going to combine all three of these into one part, hopefully that's okay with you guys. I wrote this as best as I could. I didn't think the dragon au! would be so liked but guess the world building I pulled from my ass paid off. Reader will be fem just like the first part. Hopefully you guys like this sequel! And hope the world building for this is okay. I don't know why, but I decided to put an excessive amount of stupid world building that probably doesn't make sense… Also made the babies smaller (and I changed this in the first part too) so cuddling them can be better <33 sorry this took so long... hopefully the length makes up for it. 🫶 this makes the longest request I've done so far, and somehow I wrote all of this today... Content warnings / info - creature x reader, arlecchino is a dragon. fem reader, graphic violence, you get called a bitch (sorry), 3.9k words

Being kidnapped adopted by a family of dragons was not on your bucket list, but here you are. At the beginning, you considered running– after all, you had no idea if you were just going to be emergency dragon food or something, though logically you knew that dragons didn't eat humans. You were a hunter, and you were on a job, but you couldn't find it within yourself to pick up the sword again. Not only would that be foolish because there was no fathomable way for you to beat the Father dragon, but the trio of younglings had grown on you in such a short amount of time. It's only been a few weeks, and you feel like you've quickly adjusted to this weird, but cozy family nonetheless. 

The first night you met the dragons quickly became a fond memory to recall back to. What transpired during that night was this: after the babies had successfully calmed down their Father, their Father sat up, growling something to the hatchlings. The large dragon began striding in the direction of where it came from, and the babies left your side to follow. Confusion struck you and you approached the Father dragon.

“Hey, wait, where are you guys–” your own yelp interrupted you as the larger dragon's tail coiled around, picking you up like you were no more than a leaf. You squirmed in its grasp until you were dropped onto the Father’s head. Your eyes widened upon realizing what they were going to do, and you cling onto one of the spikes on the dragon’s head for dear life. The Father dragon flaps its wings a few times, striding backwards, and then begins running. The movements nearly threw you off of the dragon had you not white-knucle gripped onto it, and then you feel the rushing of wind all over you, threatening to blow you away. Your eyes burned from the oncoming torrent, and you shutted your eyes as the frigid night air whips around you, just praying to your archons that you remain alive after this. 

You didn’t know how long you squeezed your eyes shut, but by the time the icy gusts stopped pricking at your skin–only just caressing your skin like a gentle embrace–it’s when you finally opened your eyes. A black canvas dotted with various bright specks greeted your vision, and you gaped silently. You’ve always thought that the night was beautiful, but up close, you were sure of it; it’s entrancing and no short of magnificent. The beating organ inside of your chest thumped rhythmically, and you thought that if you reached out your hand, you would be able to feel the stars on your fingertips. 

You heard a croak beside you and you recalled that you were among dragons. You looked down. The dragon below you tilted their head towards you, glaring back at you over its wings, piercing crossed eyes scrutinizing you. Sheepishly smiling, you rub its head gently with your hand, and you could physically feel it shiver. You relaxed your hold, leaning forward and allowing your front to press against its scale to rest. Turning your head to the side, you watch miniature dragons fly, somehow keeping up with their father. You tentatively peeked down to see how high up you are, and your stomach churned uneasily. Distracting yourself from the terrifying height you’re at, how you can barely see the peaks of the coniferous trees, you try to think where they were taking you. Surely… you weren’t going to be stowed away in their den as emergency food… right? The babies would protect you… hopefully. 

The rest of the ride was smooth; somehow you had not fallen off. They took you to a cave at the base of the mountain in the center of the forest. Inside the cavern, the ground was matted with wool. This must have come from the sheeps that the Father dragon reportedly stole from the nearby villages. You assumed that this is a nest. The red one (should you just give them names instead of referring to them by their colors? You'll call the red one “Ruby” for now), nudged the back of your leg towards the nest, before its siblings leapt into it. Like cats, “Aqua” (short for Aquamarine) circled around a certain area before laying down, its sibling, “Amber,” following it and curling beside it. 

You gazed at “Father” to check for any signs of protest, but it too steps towards the nest before laying down. Its massive body took up the majority of the nest, and it used its tail to gently push “Aqua” and “Amber” closer to it. Seemed like there was no protest from Father. Hesitantly, you approached the nest, feeling like you just stepped onto sacred grounds you didn't belong to. Tentatively, you laid on your side and Ruby went to snuggle against its other siblings. 

Soon, the babies’ snores filled the cavern. Sleep was hard to come by, especially since you were still in your armor and the matting wasn't very comfortable. The cold didn't help either. You ended up just gazing at the wilderness beyond the cave, observing the crescent moon. Eventually, your body became sore from the uncomfortable position, and you figured that slumber wouldn’t come to you soon anyways. Standing up, you made your way towards the exit, just to stretch your legs and take some fresh air. 

Leaning against the entrance, your thoughts ran rampant with wonderings. 

Should you run away? Did you even want to run away? What about your family? What about your job? Well… your family cared about your other siblings more anyways and it wasn't like you liked your job–you've always wanted a break from it. You doubt you could run away from them if you did; dragons had an impressive sense of smell and you wouldn't get very far in this terrain anyways. The babies specifically seemed especially fond of you, and their father tolerated you enough… maybe they had adopted you as their family? If so, then… What was wrong with having a serene life with dragons? 

Well, assuming, again, that they didn't want to eat you. But you didn't want to go back. That life of glory was for someone else. You'd rather live quietly and cozily, even if you were dirt poor. 

“Do you not intend on running away?” 

Your blood froze from the sudden voice, coming from behind you. You whipped around to see a human–no, something that looked like a human–advancing, and you took a step back. You notice the missing large dragon from the nest, only the hatchlings remain, unaware of their missing father. This… creature looked human (a rather pale, tall, and handsome female human) with two spiky, blackhorns peaking above her predominantly white strands, a draconic black and red tail loosely curled around her legs, and black forearms and clawed hands. But the moment you locked eyes with red x-eyes, you knew who she was. Or more like, what she was. 

She was, perhaps, the most breathtaking being you've ever seen, the moonlight making her seem elysian. The embodiment of perfection, for both human and beast, with her voice belonging to those of angels. 

But she was still a dragon, and that thought threw you back to reality. 

“You're human… but a dragon,” you stated matter-of-factly, your flusteredness apparent in your voice.

Her face remained as stoney as her dragon form. “You're correct, Miss Dragon Hunter.” 

This was new. Even if you had extensively researched dragons, you never knew of this. “How?”

“Is that something I should be telling a dragon hunter?” 

You bit your lip. “Is this how ancient dragons were able to stay hidden from us?” You wondered out loud.

“Precisely.” 

“If your human form is female-presenting… Does that mean you're a female dragon? But why? Female dragons take… well, a maternal role, but you serve the paternal role. I thought… that you were a male dragon.” 

“I am indeed a female dragon. However… I never sought out a mate, and so I could not produce my own children. The children,” she gestured at the sleeping hatchlings. “were runts when I found them. Like myself, they had no paternal figure, and the maternal figure naturally abandoned them after birth, so I stepped in.”

You nodded. “Why… did you not kill me?” 

“You fed them. And, with that, I believe they saw you as the maternal figure they lacked. They would be saddened if I killed you. But… considering that you’re a dragon hunter… it's quite a shame,” she remarked threateningly as she extended out her claws, nearing you. Your heart thundered in your ears, fear pumping through every vein. She was going to kill you? 

“Wait, wait. I'll give up. I won't go back. I swear,” you state, stepping back. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

Quickly, you removed the chainmail armor off of you, and with great effort, ripped out the patch stitched onto your shoulder pad. You chucked the armor into a forsaken direction, before you offered the patch to her. “This… this is a symbol of my occupation as a dragon hunter. Without it, I'm nobody. It’s my proof that I'm a dragon hunter. If I don't have it, I can't get any kill orders or receive any weapons or additional aid.”

The dragon raised her brow. A clawed hand took the patch from your hand, before a fire erupted from her palm, effortlessly burning it into ashes. “But how do I know you won't attempt to hurt my family?” She growled.

“I wouldn't. I've… never wanted to be a dragon hunter. I was born into a prestigious dragon hunter family, and I was expected to hunt myself. But… I never wanted to kill dragons.” You tilted your head down, breaking eye contact from her in favor of looking at your feet. 

The dragon stalked towards you until she was only a few inches away. Even in human form, she still towered over you. She pulled you with her tail, which winded around your midsection tightly until she was flushed against you. She gripped your chin in between her clawed fingers. 

“I'll be watching you myself. For now, my children enjoy your presence. But if a single one of them cries so much because of you, know that you will be killed, mercilessly and painfully. Do you understand that, human?”  

“Yes…” You paused when you realized you didn't have her name. You looked at her expectedly. 

“It's Arlecchino.” 

“Yes, Arlecchino. I understand.” Her name sounded right on your tongue.

“Good. Come now, the children are rather quick on noticing my absence from the nest.” Arlecchino expressed, turning back.

“I think I'll stay out here for a while. It's hard for me to fall asleep… it's a bit cold for humans,” you sheepishly admitted. “I'll come back when I'm more tired, I promise.” 

Arlecchino turned around to observe you, noticing your shivering form and the goosebumps on your skin. “I believe I have a solution. Come,” she said, offering her hand towards you. 

You took her hand, and she laid you to the nest again. She laid down on her side first, before urging you to follow her. The nest was comically large compared to the two of you and the baby dragons now that she was in her human form. As you set yourself down, back facing her, clawed hands found their way around your waist before hauling you towards her, her chest pressed against your spine. You hear the flap of a wing, and then the wing is casted over the two of you, acting as a makeshift blanket. You gasped as her hot breath tickled your earlobe, the tips of your ears burning. “Warm enough for you now, human?”

You still had trouble sleeping that night, but for a different reason. 

— 

You learned of the hatchlings' names the day after. Translated to human language from the draconic tongue, “Ruby” was actually Lyney, and his siblings Lynette and Freminet, “Aqua” and “Amber” respectively. Their personalities shone through pretty quickly the longer you stayed with them. 

Lyney, undoubtedly, was the most energetic and clingy, in an endearing way. Always the first one up and stirring up trouble, alongside his younger brother, Freminet–even though Freminet was the shy, considerate one. Lynette was quiet but always present, comparable to a cat when Lyney acted the most like a puppy, and Freminet, a deer. Lyney had once nearly burned down the nest out of sheer eagerness when you surprised them by arriving at the cave with fish when they had just woken up. It didn't take you long to realize that cod was Lyney's favorite, even when you didn't understand dragon language. 

Arlecchino warmed up to you eventually. The first night helped a lot, and so did the children. Standoffish at first, once she realized you had the best intentions in mind for her children she was begrudgingly softer with you. The ‘nestling’ (as the children resorted to calling it after Freminet saw it, having woken up in the middle of the night when Lyney's tail accidentally whacked him) became a nightly occurrence, and you couldn't say that you were complaining. It became evident to yourself that you were attracted to Arlecchino. She was wordlessly sweet, and attentive to you, but especially the children. A powerful, ancient dragon practically bowing down to dragons five times smaller than her was amusing to witness. 

You were able to dissuade Arlecchino's attempts from visiting the nearby villages now that you were able to get the food for the hatchlings. Arlecchino had stopped visiting villages once she was able to obtain a human form, which allowed her to more efficiently metabolize food unlike beforehand. However, upon taking care of the Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, she needed much more than what the forest could provide, hence the frequent visits. 

Arlecchino did eventually tell you how her human form came to be. Dragons are, first and foremost, creatures created with magic, and so also hold magic. There are two different maturities that dragons reach in their lifetime. The physical maturity, which is when their wings are fully developed and they reach the age when they no longer have to be sheltered. Then, there is the magical maturity, when they learn to properly utilize the magic they're born with once enough magic has been culminated internally over the years. Dragons reach magical maturity after their second molt, and shapeshifting is the most common application; though most dragons like Arlecchino use human forms in order to assimilate into human society. It explains why ancient dragons are rarely ever seen. Draconic magic is unlike anything you've ever seen, incomparable to how humans use it–you couldn't even wrap your head around it. Either way, once Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet reach of age, they too will have human forms. You wondered what they would look like. 

Your life is simple, albeit a bit boring, but nonetheless, you couldn't love it more. You have children that keep you on your toes, and you have… well, Arlecchino, your personal heater at night. It's the cozy life you've always wanted, though you'd like for the nest to be more comfortable, and considerably warmer. 

It's why you’re currently at a nearby town, buying more wool with the money that you had when you were still a dragon hunter. You had traveled with Arlecchino to your hometown to retrieve the money you secretly stashed away, which could have bought a large house in the center of the town. At least, being a dragon hunter wasn't entirely useless. 

You buy your wool and head towards the edge of the forest that bordered the town. The children were waiting for you there, wanting to see what new treats you were getting them. Last time was grilled steak. This time it's dried fruits. It'd be the first time that they tried dried fruits, you hope that they'll like them. As you treach back to where you told them to stay, you notice footprints in the dirt– footprints that weren't yours, and there were multiple of them. All of them seemed to belong to men. Terror struck you in an instant. Why were there people here? People rarely come here. No, it should be fine, it’s just foragers, right? 

Anxiety grips at you as you continue, but it's quickly dispelled once you find the dragons, all safe and sound. You exhale and giggle as Lyney leaps into your arms, while Lynette brushes against your leg and Freminet perches on top of your head. 

“Freminet, you're heavy–” you stop when something snaps behind you. Immediately, you set down Lyney and Freminet before turning around, and your worst fears come to fruition as your sight lands on a group of men coming from the bushes, familiar swords and armor gleaming in the sunlight. Your stomach drops upon the realization. Dragon hunters. And there's about ten of them. Ten of them versus one of you. 

You step in front of the dragons immediately, your hand trailing to the small knife in your pocket. 

“Hey, the old man was right. Following that bitch would lead us to the dragons,” one of them said. “How much is for each head?”

“Well, babies are rare. So a few million Mora per head. Can be ten times more if we get them alive.”

“Get your Father,” you whisper to them, as you push the dragons. They croak worriedly at you, their teeth tugging on your boot for you to come with them. 

“Go!” You yelled a little more assertively. Lynette and Freminet fly off to the direction of the cave, while Lyney remains. You were about to shoo off Lyney too, but then you hear the sound of a bow being drawn. 

It's like you suddenly become possessed, your body moving on automatically as you charge at the archer, short knife in hand. You knock his hand away, making their arrow shoot astray instead of at one of the dragons still flying, before you slit his throat. You narrowly dodge one of the swordsmen's strike, his long-blade an inch away from your chest. Another one from behind you swings, and this time it cuts your side, only shallowly so. You're thankful that your dragon hunter instincts and reflexives are still imprinted on your body, as that's the only thing keeping you alive and allowing you to dodge them. Though they all seem like amateur dragon hunters, compared to you who was the best out of your year, there were still many more of them than you

Another archer draws his bow, but you're still preoccupied with dodging. This foraging knife can barely do shit, and you're hardly able to fend off against the ones surrounding you. The group of dragon hunters split off, half of them chasing towards where Lynette and Freminet went while the other half is currently fighting you.  

No, no, you can't reach him in time, what if he hits Lyney or Freminet–

Fire abruptly emerges, scalding the archer's face making him cry out. The fallen archer's scream successfully distracts the men around you, and you weasel your way out, grabbing Lyney who’s in the process of breathing out fire again and running. You drop your backpack to allow you to run better, but not before making sure you chuck it at one of the hunters. 

“Good job, Lyney,” you praise the hatchling in your arms, stroking his head. 

You had to make sure the group in front didn't find the cave. Lynette and Freminet aren't fast flyers, their wings aren't nearly developed yet. You fear that more archers are with the group in front. Thanks to the lack of weight on you, you're able to evade the ones behind quickly, and catch up to the half of the hunters that had run off earlier. 

The sound of their own footsteps mask yours, and you’re able to stab the swordsman that's lacking behind in the neck, before stealing his sword. His scream attracts the attention from the other hunters and they spin around to face you. Good, they won't be focused on the other dragons now. 

“Lyney, go, please. Your siblings need their big brother,” you whispered, giving the hatchling one more stroke on the head before throwing him up in the air. Lyney, this time, obeys you, flying away but not before giving you one more glance back. It’s just you and five hunters in front of you, another three coming soon. The archers are the most pressing concern, as you rush at them. However, two swordsmen block you from them. 

“No!” You scream as the archers take aim, their arrows aimed at Lyney. You throw your knife, past the blade-wielding hunters and into the back of the head of one of the archers. However, that action cost you your arm getting cut, a long slash down the side of your forearm. You hiss, backing away, but the three of them quickly surround you. There’s still a single archer left. 

“Fuck, what are you even protecting those stupid reptiles anyways? Just tell us where they live and we'll let you live!” 

You only grit your teeth and ready your sword. The only way you can get to the last archer is if you brute force your way, but you can't. You hear footsteps approaching from behind, and the remaining three are already here. 

“We need her alive for now, so she can tell us where it is,” you hear one of them say.

The idea starts settling inside of you–that you're going to die, if it continues like this. You’re not going to tell them where the cave is obviously, even with whatever sick torture they have in plan for you. But were you willing to die now? After you've just achieved the life you had always wanted? You just wanted to live a peaceful life… was this your karma for being a dragon hunter? You swallow thickly, trying to imagine not seeing the hatchlings again or even Arlecchino. In the short time you’ve spent with them, you really have seen them as your own, your family. Ironic that you end up dying for dragons when you yourself were a dragon hunter, huh?

Continuing fighting would be pointless. You’re dead either way, why struggle more? Still… the children are safe. It'd be okay. It'd be okay. They've survived before you, and they'll continue to survive after. Dying would be okay. 

You close your eyes, trying to blink the tears away. It'll be okay, it'll be–

A roar booms through the forest, and then a loud boom, the ground shaking violently underneath you, causing you to tumble onto the floor harshly. In front of you, on top of the crushed bodies of the former dragon hunters, the dragon form of Arlecchino appears. You quickly run to her side, grasping onto one of her legs. Soon, dark red flames escape out of her throat, enveloping the last of the hunters and then, all ten hunters are dead, just like that. 

Once the last hunter falls, Arlecchino immediately turns into her human form, holding you in her arms. You collapse into her arms, the exhaustion from the running and fighting weighing down on you as the adrenaline quickly disappears. 

“The… children?” you're able to pant out as you look up at her. 

“They're safe.” Her eyes hold gratitude towards you. “I thought I lost you.”

“I'm okay, Arlecchino, I promise. Just a few cuts,” you reassure her with a smile, nuzzling into her neck. She sighs and kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere without me anymore.”

“Fine…” 

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

This is just a list of plot threads left unanswered that will, most likely, remain unanswered.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of some codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist.

The world of Thedas has been watered down and its worldbuilding/lore diminished - slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game with their intent being to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

----------------------------------

Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

[0cta9on]

The Gaeul in 'Lessons' 😲😳 Was there any major inspiration that made you come up with this idea?

Seeing Gaeul on the Dom side is usually uncommon but wow! Another fic showing why I'll happy let Gaeul drain me till I past out

For those who need more convincing...

I love the reaction from other members too! I could see them being lowkey jealous (especially wonyoung 🤐). I think Gaeul would get back at the members for teasing her for being single for so long.

What if Gaeul decides for her full day off, she's "too tired" to walk around the dorm and commands you to carry her around.

Specifically you're butt ass naked, Gaeul clinging to you akin to a koala holding on to a tree. Your cock sheathed inside her the entire time when carrying her, suppressing your moans when you feel her squeeze around your cock just to mess with you.

Stand and carry in a literal sense but you're just doing all the hardwork while focusing not cumming inside your mistress. Even when sitting down she remains attached to you. You're feeling good but also... not?😅

Taking it to the next level would be her purposely leading you (you're still carrying her) to be right next to her members, just so she could chat with them with the obvious intention of getting them riled up.

Do you think you could take it? Not just the stimulation from Gaeul but seeing her members getting visible horny because of you.

Would Gaeul be really harsh if you fail to hold it in? Or would she blame the members for 'intervening' and secretly giving you a little treat instead?

______________________________________________________________

LESSON ???: HOW TO SPICE IT UP

"Didn't you say you love cumming to her fancams? Can you give your mistress a good show? Cumming all over mistress's precious boy toy? "

"You would like to cum inside your mistress instead don't you?"

"Good boy~"

"Oh you'll have to do a lot more to convince me to swallow. The offer is still on the table: Give. Me. A. Good. Show~"

Hello, whisky! The whole "lessons" part of Lessons actually came from me accidentally misinterpreting the buyer's commission (They ended up liking the final product anyways, which I'm really grateful for :> ). Their original idea was for Gaeul, as the oldest member of IVE, to teach the rest of her members how to be proper girlfriends and ending with the scene at the end where Gaeul shows them that they don't have to be submissive and that the man should put in the work to pleasure their partners.

Somehow, I interpreted that as Gaeul taking lessons on how to be a proper girlfriend and being unhappy with the notion that women should always be submissive. In the end, the buyer liked it and I also quite liked the final product, so I consider this a happy little accident :]

This took a little while because of my personal life getting a little hectic, but I couldn't not write a semi-sequel to Lessons with the fuel that you have me :> I went into a bit of a different direction, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Unedited, but it's whatever :>

Gaeul slowly drags her soft, wet tongue across the bottom of your shaft, watching in delight as you helplessly squirm from the sensation. With your wrists handcuffed to her bedpost, all you can do is let your mind melt as she tortures you with pleasure.

“You better not cum yet, or else I’ll-”

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“Gaeul- Oh.” Liz’s face turns bright red as she sticks her head through the door. “Um, it’s your turn to wash the dishes.” She gives you a polite yet awkward nod before leaving. 

Gaeul groans, face planting into your stomach. “I don’t wanna wash the dishes,” she complains, her voice muffled against your skin. Suddenly, she shoots her gaze up at you, climbing into your lap until her face is mere inches from yours. “Yah, you should do the dishes for me.

You scoff, coming down from your high. “Don’t I already take care of you enough? In more ways than one, might I add.”

She sighs before climbing off of your lap and heading to the door. “Fine, then I guess you’re okay with staying here like that while I go wash the dishes?” She raises an eyebrow at you, gesturing towards your constraints.

“W-wait,” you say, conceding. “I’ll do it.”

She smirks at you, grabbing the key from her nightstand. “Good boy~” You bite your lip, suppressing a moan as the word dances against your ears, making your skin shiver with elation. Her smirk widens as she suddenly begins to strip in front of you, revealing her slender body that you love to worship.

Gaeul sits on your lap once more, resting her whole body weight on your erection. “Why don’t we make things interesting~?” She bites her lip, slowly impaling herself onto your cock. A deep, guttural moan escapes your lips as you bottom out inside of her.

“Do all my chores without cumming inside me and then I’ll give you a little prize at the end. Can you do that for me, baby?” She whispers into your ear. 

You nod, unable to produce a coherent word as her velvety walls squeeze your shaft. After Gaeul unshackles you from the handcuffs, you struggle to carry her to the kitchen, constantly fighting the urge to thrust into her petite body.

You peer into the sink only to find a couple dirty dishes inside. Gaeul could’ve easily done them herself, but as her manager and her boyfriend, you live to please her, even if it means enduring the most cruel and unusual punishment you’ve ever faced. 

You manage to wash a few of the dishes with relative ease, but in typical Gaeul fashion, she decides to make things even more difficult for you. Sucking on your neck, nibbling your ear, grazing your back with her fingernails, pressing her tits into your chest, it’s as if this woman was created specifically to be the death of you. Eventually, you have to take a breather after nearly exploding inside of her.

“You still have a couple dishes left, what’s the matter?” she teases. “Are you disobeying your mistress’s orders?”

“N-no, mistress, I-I’m just taking a b-break,” you reply.

Gaeul shifts her weight around, causing your legs to nearly give out from underneath you. “Did I say you could take a fucking break?” She digs your nails into your chest, not enough to cut but enough for it to burn your flesh.

“I-I’m sorry, mistress.”

“Ugh,” Wonyoung groans, walking into the kitchen. “Do you really have to do that in the middle of the kitchen?”

Gaeul’s threatening expression suddenly shifts into a cheeky grin as she wraps her arms around your neck in a pleasant hug. “First of all, this is technically all your doing, and second of all, I finally got a boyfriend after so long, let me enjoy this.

Wonyoung rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m heading out.”

“Don’t cause any trouble!” Gaeul calls out to her before glaring back at you with a lustful smirk. “Now, finish washing the dishes, you fucking dog.”

“Y-yes, mistress.” You finish cleaning off the last plate as she sucks on your neck, marking you for the world to see. Your supervisor might ask about those tomorrow, but he fades into the back of your mind as you melt into Gaeul’s touch, riding on the edge of bursting inside of her.

“Oh, you’re done? Good boy~” She giggles, finding great joy in watching you squirm and moan with every small movement she makes. “Now, take me back to my room so we can—”

“Gaeul!” Yujin calls out from her room. “Can you help me with something?”

Gaeul slams her forehead against your chest in frustration. “Ugh, why can’t you ask Rei or Liz!?”

“They’re busy right now. Please?” she begs. Gaeul mutters a harsh expletive under her breath, squeezing your cock in the process. You grunt as her fingers wrap around your throat, pressing against your windpipe.

“You better fucking hold it, or else,” she threatens. “Hurry up and take me to Yujin’s room.”

“Yes, m-mistress.” You support her supple thighs, stumbling through the hallway as the lack of air and overstimulation turns your brain into goop. It barely renders in your mind that you’re face to face with Yujin’s door.

“Hey, you two!” she greets without batting an eye at the vulgar scene in front of her. You sit down on Yujin’s bed, just barely clinging onto the last ounce of sanity you have left. The need to follow your mistress’s orders is much stronger than your need to chase after any kind of self-pleasure, so you sit there and focus on your breathing while Gaeul keeps your cock in a chokehold.

“What did you need help with?” she groans, glaring at Yujin.

“I’m going on a date later and I’m having trouble deciding what to wear.” Yujin pulls out two dresses from her closet, both nearly identical aside from one being black and the other being white. “What do you think?”

Gaeul yanks your hair, forcing a moan out of you as she shifts her weight. “Are you kidding me?! You dragged me all the way over here just for this!?” She angrily gyrates her hips around your cock, more for herself rather than you. You try to think about anything else to keep your climax at bay, your supervisor, tomorrow’s schedules, whether or not you cleaned the dishes properly, but it’s becoming increasingly harder with each time her skin slaps against yours.

“You know how indecisive Liz is, and Rei would’ve just picked a random without looking. You’re the only one here that can help me!” Yujin exclaims.

“I cannot fucking believe you right now!” Gaeul growls. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something important right now!?”

Yujin pouts, turning towards you. “What about you, manager? What do you think I should wear?”

With the overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your veins at this moment, you can barely make out the dresses as she presents them to you. Hell, you’re surprised that you even managed to understand her question in the first place. Gaeul certainly isn’t making this easy for you, but that doesn’t matter. Your only purpose is obeying your mistress.

“B-black… Black is—Hngh! G-good…” you manage to utter.

“Uh, Gaeul? Is he okay—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Gaeul screams at her before leaning into your ear, her nails digging into the flesh of your back. “I’m so fucking close, baby. I don’t care if she’s here, just fucking cum in me already. Fill me with your fucking seed!”

You grip onto her tight ass as you meet her thrusts with your own, desperate to obey your mistress’s orders. All the pain, the suffering, the waiting, it’ll all finally be worth it. Everything else fades away, leaving you and your mistress to chase the highs of your orgasms together. Gaeul catches your lips in hers as the both of you moan into each others’ mouths, collapsing into a ball of utter bliss.

“H-holy… shit…” Gaeul pants, her hot breath dancing on your neck. “This is why I fucking love you. You better have some more energy left cuz I’m not done yet, do you understand?”

“Y-yes… m-mistress…” You barely have enough energy to keep yourself upright, but if that’s what she wants, then that’s what she’s going to get.

“Wow, that was…” Yujin bites her lip, her cheeks bright red as she watches the two of you recover. “Would you two ever be interested in a foursome—”

“He’s mine!” Gaeul hisses at her. She slaps your cheek, bringing you to full attention. “Bring me to my room, now!”

“Yes, mistress!” In an instant, you march out of Yujin’s room, still connected to Gaeul. The last thing you see is Yujin’s pouting expression before you shut the door behind you, finally alone with your one true love.

Gaeul places a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You’re such a good boy~” The words tickle your ear like a pleasant song, only for that pleasant feeling to be ripped away right as her fingers close around your neck. “But remember - you belong to me. You are my toy. My property. Do you understand that?”

You fight back a moan, her harsh grip around your neck and that lustful fire in her eyes making you rock hard once again. As her manager, most people would think that you’re the one that bosses her around and disciplines her when she causes trouble. In the public eye, that might be true. But behind closed doors, when it’s just the two of you, you know exactly who’s boss.

“Yes, mistress.”

[callmerainman]

𝐍𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Mob Psycho 100 by ONE

spoilers!. unspecific spoilers about season’s 3 finale in the beginning, otherwise spoiler free

plot. Reigen Arataka is not only your boss at your part-time job, but your former high school best friend and unrequited love. After a kiss happens between you two, you worry that maybe Reigen is drifting away from you another time. You are devastated, and decide to discuss it while sharing a cigarette at your place.

word count. 4,836k

prompts. fem!Reader, reader is a model, childhood friends, not actually unrequited love, love confessions, fluff, light angst, smoking, late night conversations, kissing, teen crush, childhood memories, hurt and comfort, getting together, making out, emotional sex, naked cuddling, love making, getting together

tw. mild sexual content, sex is here but not graphic or either specifically described

notes. this fanfiction can be considered as a sequel to my other work “Still Into You”. It’s not mandatory to read, but it gives some more insight into reader’s work as a photo model and when Reigen realizes he’s in love with her. Enjoy :)

“I care for you still and I will forever”

There was a kiss.

With Reigen's hands plunged in your hair. Your eyes squeezed shut until they hurt. The sound of his breathing going out of his nostrils. Your hands holding his face.

It happened when Mob lost control of his powers, spreading chaos throughout Seasoning City. You could go with Reigen only for a brief part of your road towards the perturbation, as Serizawa protected the three of you with his umbrella. Reigen insisted on trying to meet Mob halfway, despite your protests.

"It's just Mob, I'll be okay and I'll be back"

He said all of this before taking off his shoes and running in the middle of all the debris that was flying around in the sky. Your legs couldn't move anymore than that, and you just put a hand on your mouth, trying to suppress the urge to scream at him to stop. As Reigen tried to reach Mob, you waited for him while leaning on Serizawa's shoulder, his umbrella protecting you two. Then, the storm stopped. And Reigen emerged under the sunsetting sky, his shirt ripped, blood pouring down his temple. As soon as you saw him, you stood up on your feet, beginning to run towards his direction as he did the same.

"Reigen!"

In a matter of just a few seconds you find yourselves in the arms of one another. It wasn't clear who started it first, but you began kissing. And why? For the care. For the passion. For the happiness of being alive. For love? You felt Reigen's lips moving on yours with resolution, while he ran his hands in your hair. He tasted like smoke, and vaguely of blood. It was a warm kiss just like you imagined it happening between you two. Your heart was beating so hard that you were sure that he was feeling it from your chest to his, from your heart to his. It wasn't the first kiss with Reigen that you expected, but it was the one you wished for. You were so lost in yourselves, that at some point Dimple had to call you two out.

"Geez, get a room"

Only then you regained the necessary awareness to separate. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and slowly the hands that held you two close started to drift away from your skin. The moment you realized that not only Dimple was still alive, but that Mob was also okay, you ran up to both to hug them tight, even if it was difficult to do so with the green spirit. About the kiss, you didn't exactly know how to feel.

You don't even know it now that things between you and Reigen became weird. It has been two weeks since the kiss and neither one of you talked about an "us". Even after a kiss like that it was still just Reigen and (Y/N). But childhood friends don't kiss like that, and neither do co-workers or people who don't really love each other. That day, maybe for the first time, you had no doubt about his intentions. Reigen really did want to kiss you. It was written in his hands in your hair, in him pressing his body against yours, in the trembling breaths he took at any given occasion. But now you are tormented by doubts. The tone of your conversations was the same for the two weeks following the kiss. Always with the desire to talk about it on the tip of your tongues, but never with the courage to do it. You blame yourself too, it's the responsibility of both you and Reigen to consider your actions, what you two do to each other. But every time you see each other in the office there's that silent agreement: today the kiss will not be discussed.

This afternoon in the office is no different. Reigen has his appointments, Serizawa prepares some tea before heading out for an exorcism, while you on your desk do some paperwork. The looks you and Reigen exchange from time to time, full of unsaid things that are pushing to get outside the heart. In the beginning you could take it. The majority of time spent in the office was with Serizawa or Mob, and it wasn't the case to talk about the kiss in front of them. But after two weeks the excuses were running out. Even today. Not when Serizawa has been out for hours to get an exorcism done and neither you or Reigen decide to talk. Your eyes are slowly starting to sting, as you are scribbling down some practices. You think about how you and Reigen were best friends in middle school and high school. You told each other everything, even the things you were afraid to say to yourselves. You fell in love with him as you grew together, and hopelessly. You gazed at him from a distance at any given occasion, when you couldn't be close to him. Then you distanced yourself when you understood that your feelings couldn't be reciprocated. He just didn't love you that way. Your parents gave you the opportunity to move from Seasoning City and you took it. You and Reigen had promised each other to stay in touch but, over time, your paths were divided. You both started university, found a job and made a new life. Texts and calls became colder, more rare. This until you didn't even wish happy birthday to each other anymore. Then, after ten years apart, you came back and reunited with him after accidentally bumping into each other in the same office you are working now. You just walked in because you thought that your backache was orchestrated by an evil spirit. You didn't read the sign outside and when you came face to face with Reigen, your world changed again. Even if ten years went by, Reigen still reached out to you to help you find a part-time job while you tried to pursue your career as a photo model when you talked to him about your problems. And like that, you were together again.But now, because of a kiss and again because of your feelings, you feel Reigen slip away from your hands. Your eyes start to water at the idea, your writing on paper becomes more sloppy.

Why can't you hold Reigen close to you? A single hiccup escapes from you, and you immediately try to shut it by smashing your hand on your mouth. Finally, after an entire evening with his eyes on his laptop, Reigen flashes his head upwards. He looks at you, and he understands immediately that something's wrong. His lips part, his eyebrows curve upwards.

"(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your eyes bolt up, watered, and your cheeks start to get hot.

"I'm sorry"

You get up and quickly get out of the room, your hand still on your mouth. While you're in the bathroom shedding your tears and your frustration alone, Reigen has his hands planted on his face and his fingers pulling his hair. He lets out a low and muffled groan against his palms, and he curses himself. Seeing you cry makes him crumble completely. And it's not the first time he sees you like this. In high school you were not afraid to cry in front of him, because you knew that you could afford to do that with him. Reigen always listened to you religiously, he always knew what to say to make you feel better and understood. But there were times when you were impossible to comfort.

One of those times, you showed up in front of Reigen's front door without any notice. You were still dressed in your high school uniforms, and it was a spring night. When he opened the door, he immediately asked what happened to you. You planted your hands on his shoulders. Then you got close to his face, your lips parted. And at last, you burst out crying, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You began crying so hard that Reigen, fearing for your privacy being invaded by neighbours, pulled you inside and shut the door quickly. You two were alone, just you and Reigen in that empty and liminal space as you cried against his shoulder.

"(Y/N), don't cry, please" Reigen said, concern in his voice.

You didn't say anything, too overwhelmed. So Reigen decided to take you upstairs, in his room where you spent so many afternoons. He made you sit down on his futon, then he rested his hands on your shoulders, caressing them.

"What happened?" he asked, gently.

You shook your head.

"(Y/N), please, talk to me"

Breaking your sighs, you finally managed to say "Taka, I just can't tell you"

Reigen, although confused, understood you. With all the respect for your feelings, he accepted that he just couldn't know what was making you cry like that. So he took you in his arms and laid both of you down on the floor. You were so close in that embrace, your legs intertwined, your face in his neck, his hand on the back of your head and his breath on your trembling lips. Two teens in their last year of high school inside a little bedroom on a spring night. One of them cried until her eyes shut from fatigue, and the other fell asleep after making sure that the crying stopped.They fell asleep in their school clothes, all over each other, until the sun came to wake them up. And Reigen never knew why it happened that night that, although so sad, he would always remember with romantic nostalgia.

Today in the office you feel like you are living that night again. But this time he can't cheer you up and he knows exactly why you're crying. Inside the restroom, as you shed tears, you watch your reflection in the mirror. Your shoulders are hunched forward, your hands pressing on the sink. You look in the mirror as you say to yourself "you and Reigen won't ever be the friends you were before". It hurts you more than the idea of him not loving you. When you come back from the restroom, Serizawa is in the office again. He says hello to you with a smile, and you reciprocate, he doesn't notice your red and swollen eyes, but it's not his fault. He's the first to leave the office, closing the door behind him. You silently start to help Reigen close the office for the night. It's dark outside and way past the lunch hour, which you both skipped in order to wait for Serizawa to come back. You feel Reigen looking at you from time to time and your cheeks are hot from embarrassment and frustration.

"Okay, everything's closed" Reigen says, walking towards the door "you ready?"

"Yeah" you say, with half your voice.

Before you can reach for the door knob, Reigen blocks your way with his body. You look at him, confused.

"Today I came with my car, I can give you a ride home" he says "if you want to of course”

You feel your stomach tightening. With an unsure sigh you say "It's really dark outside, are you sure?"

Reigen's driving experience was really limited, but he nods convincingly "I'm sure"

You take a deep breath and nod "Okay then, lead the way"

You walk out the office, making small talk as you go down the stairs. It's more comfortable than your silences. Years ago your silences were relaxing and intimate, beautiful. You can't afford that luxury now. You chat about your day in the dark and empty parking lot behind the office. Reigen was used to escort you to your car when you finished work late, just to make sure that you were safe. You arrive in front of his grey car, the one that you had to drive when he got too drunk at a wedding party. That same wedding where you pretended to be a couple to avoid people's prejudices. You slow danced and smiled together. Maybe you haven't had such an intimate moment with him since high school. The chatting ends inside the car, replaced with commercial music on the radio. Reigen keeps the volume low to not get distracted as he drives through the city night lights. Your elbow is pressing against the inside of the car door, your gaze fixed outside the window as you rest your chin on your hand. At red lights, Reigen takes some seconds to look at you.

He would kiss you right now if he could.

After ten minutes of driving in the night streets, the car slows down. Reigen's foot hits the brake, stopping it completely. You don't move from your position, and he looks at you with apprehension.

"Wanna smoke a cigarette?" he asks.

Finally you turn around and look at him, and you give him a melancholic smile.

"Yes, why not?"

Reigen nods and opens the door. He takes a few steps outside and then he lays on the car hood as he waits for you. You stay in the car, looking at him. Your heart steadily beats against your chest. Then, you get out and walk close to Reigen at a determined pace.

"Do you wanna go inside?"

Reigen, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, widens his eyes a bit in surprise.

"If that's okay for you" he replies.

"Of course it's okay"

You smile. It costs you some effort but not because you don't mean it. Reigen reciprocates. It's maybe the first sincere smile you exchanged since you kissed. Reigen starts to follow you up the stairs of your condo. You guide him, and from another perspective that walk up the stairs looks like a chase. It's not that far from reality. In front of your door you shove your hand inside your purse, frantically looking for the keys. You take them out with a chiming sound and then you turn them around in the keyhole. Reigen thinks that your apartment smells just like you. Like the perfume you always put on, vaguely like your lips of which the taste is carved in his mind forever. And it had that same pleasant air of your former house during summer afternoons when you were teens, when you used to sit on the floor in a star position. The fan always on, ice cream sticks thrown away in a corner, sweat running down your temples and your hair sticking onto your skin.

"We can smoke on the balcony" you say, gesturing him to follow you.

"It's your own apartment but it smells like your old bedroom" Reigen adds.

"And the mess is still here"

As you walk towards the balcony, you shove some clothes behind a sofa with your foot.

You slide the big door-window open. You both get out, and a cold breeze hits you unexpectedly, making his grey jacket and the hem of your skirt flow. Then, you close the door behind you and go towards the balcony railing. You lay against it on your back, it's cold and rough. You start searching for a pack of cigarettes. It's new and fresh, the smell of tobacco mixture faintly tastes like chocolate. You take one cig and put it between your lips. You gesture towards Reigen's lighter with your finger, since yours died.

"Wait" he says, and he makes you come closer.

You obey, and he makes the tips of your cigarettes touch, his is already lit up. Inhaling deep from the filter, even yours lights up with a magmatic color. You look at Reigen and your faces are really close as you exchange a cigarette kiss. Then you separate and you both blow the smoke out in sync.

"It's funny" you say, exhaling smoke "the first time I saw you smoking after we met again I was surprised because I thought you dropped the habit"

"Yeah, but since Mob started working for me I smoke way less" Reigen takes the cigarette between his lips, but then his eyes widen and he looks at you "wait, what do you mean by habit?”

You chuckle "You thought I was that stupid in high school?"

"I dunno what you're talking about"

You smile with nostalgia "I knew that your bathroom breaks during class were just excuses to go behind the school and smoke"

Reigen presses the filter between his lips and inhales. Meanwhile, he puts his hands up to resign, and he exhales a puff of smoke.

"You got me" he says, an amused grin "I didn't want you to think badly of me"

Now Reigen's elbows are pressing against the railing, his clasped hands hanging down. Your apartment is not in the heart of Seasoning City, and during the night the balcony is plunged into nothing but darkness and starry skies. Both you and Reigen puff some clouds of smoke that start to dissipate between stars. You don't see them because you are laying on the back, opposite to Reigen who is hunched forward. Your head slightly swings back and cold hair hits your naked neck.

"You've always been like this, Arataka" you whisper.

"Like what?" he asks.

"Ahead of me"

Reigen frowns his eyebrows and takes another hit. He seems concerned. You copy him and you let the smoke roll on your tongue.

"During middle school, high school..." you continue and blow smoke out "you were always so ahead of me. Everytime I looked at you, I couldn't help but feel like you were always a hundred steps ahead of me. Not in a bad way, but not in a good one either. It was just like that"

Reigen puts the cigarette out, throwing it out the balcony. He looks at the last cloud of white smoke disappear in the starry sky, dissipating forever. With a nervous chuckle he says.

"That's not true"

You look at him. Reigen's eyes are somewhere else, very distant, maybe in another reality. He talks again.

"I mean, you were the prettiest girl in both middle school and high school. Perfect grades, in a lot of clubs and groups, with students asking you out almost on a daily basis. Maybe if I didn't hang out with you I would have been bullied or something like that"

You shake your head.

"That doesn't mean anything, Arataka"

For some reason, the soft and tender tone of voice you used made Reigen want more. He gets close to you, who just stepped on the butt of the cigarette with the tip of your shoe. Almost without noticing, Reigen's arms encage you between his body and the railing, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. He looks at you deeply as you look at him through your lashes.

"The truth is that I couldn't even reach your ankles. I was nowhere near you," you say, slowly "because I loved you but you didn't love me.

Reigen's eyes widen and his fingers squeeze the iron railing more. His heart skipped way more than just a beat. You don't move beneath him, because you're so tired of not talking and running away. Your eyes are fixed on one another, pupils dilated.

"The beautiful and intelligent girl you talk about actually spent the night crying between your arms ten years ago because she couldn't be yours. I never told you, but that night I cried for you and not just that. I even cried because I thought that if I couldn't get you then I couldn't get anything. I moved from Seasoning City because of this. I felt small at that time and I feel small now, because I don't know my future in the modeling career and I'm still here chasing you. Because I still love you, Reigen. Maybe I never stopped in ten years. And I know that you don't feel the same but I wanted to tell you anyway"

"But I do love you" Reigen says "I really do"

It's a really quiet night. It's made of stars, cold air, smoke and words that are finally said. Made of (Y/N) and Reigen, his eyes in yours, his arms that create a space that is all between you two, his hands that are shaking around the railing. And it's made of your (e/c) eyes that fill up with intent, and your irregular breathing, and your mouth opening.

"And I'm not saying it just because you became this super hot model who poses for famous perfume brands. I say it because I loved you everytime we smoked a cigarette together, or when you wished me good morning in the office with a smile. And I love the way you never judge me even if I always do so with myself. I feel small in the world too, and with this anguished feeling that I've never accomplished anything in this life"

Reigen takes a deep breath, just a few inches from your face, and his voice breaks slightly.

"But I rather feel small in the world with you than being alone"

Reigen gets close to you and kisses you. Your mouth smothers the shaking in his voice. You reciprocate the kiss immediately, closing your eyes. It's happening again. You missed his mouth as if you had kissed it a thousand times already. Without notice, his body pins you against the railing, and when he does it you relax. You feel the airy noise of his breathing blowing out of his nostrils, and his heart beating against his chest. When you were in high school you spent a lot of time thinking about how kissing Reigen would be and feel like. Maybe it would happen in class when it was you two's turn to clean it, or at your home when he visited you to read manga together on the floor, or maybe in the back of your car after you took your driving license. Now this kiss feels right as it is, just like the first. When you separate you look at each other with astonishment, the eyes before and the lips after.

"Stay here tonight" you say, in a whisper.

"Yes" Reigen says.

This time you kiss with more urgency, your hands in the bristly base of his honey hair, his arms around your waist. Reigen moves you from the balcony railing and you begin to walk inside. Sometimes you stumble on your feet or bump your teeth against each other. Both of you chuckle and whisper some sorry's. Once inside, you close the glass door and take his hand, guiding him towards the bedroom. You take a second to switch up the lampshade and then you begin to take your clothes off. Your skirt first, then your shirt, and even your underwear, until Reigen sees you completely naked under the dim and orange light of the lamp. He gets close to you, removing his jacket, and he looks at you up and down.

"You're so beautiful (Y/N), you've always been" he says, calmly.

You, on the other hand, cup his face in your hands and kiss him again, and you feel him pushing you lightly towards your bed. You fall down on the mattress, a cloud of pristine blankets moving under your body like waves, your hair contrasting with them and scattered all across the bed as if you were underwater. You look at Reigen with hypnotized eyes as he gets on top of you and takes his shirt off, then you help him unbutton his pants. Only his boxers are on now.

"Can I?" he asks, he's sweet and his hands encapsulate your knees.

"Yes, please" you blurt out in a hurry.

Reigen opens your naked legs and slides his boxers down his thighs. He kicks them off with his feet and positions himself between your legs. You stroke his cheeks and his bangs with the tip of your fingers.

"I find you as beautiful as I thought you were in high school"

You smile to each other slowly, drowning in your gazes. Then, Reigen enters you and you both emit low groans.

Reigen starts making love to you with infinite delicacy, always looking at you in the face. Your lips relax.

"I waited so long..." you whisper.

Reigen arches his eyebrows upwards as he speeds up his thrusts. He feels your legs intertwine around his waist so you can feel him deeper. Your bedroom, in which you always slept without company, is now full of the sound of skin against skin, of the sweet nothings you whispered to tell each other that you were doing good. A lot of praises too. Sometimes you stop to kiss, with Reigen caressing you everywhere, and you squeezing around him even more because you want to be closer. Two bodies under a soft light and with the night out the window. After a while, the rhythm of Reigen's thrust gets more erratic like the creaking of the bed, you know he's close and you are too. You come first, then Reigen follows you. Your mouths are wide open to catch air. Then, Reigen collapses on top of you, plunging his face in your neck. In your skin, he whispers

"Maybe I didn't love you then, but I love you now I swear"

You close your eyes and hold Reigen close as you feel him slide outside of you. You brush your face on his shoulder.

"I know you mean it, you never lie to me"

Reigen rolls on his back, his diaphragm moving up and down irregularly. He looks up at the ceiling as he takes you in his arms and makes you rest on his naked chest.

"I wish I loved you ten years ago, so I would have never lost you"

You shake your head and look up in his eyes.

"Arataka, it was all my fault. You didn't owe me your feelings, not ten years ago and not now, I was just selfish in moving from Seasoning City because I couldn't handle the heartache. We were best friends before lovers, and it wasn't right to just run away without telling you why"

"I could have done more to hold you close, maybe writing you more, calling you, insist to know what was going on"

Reigen shields his sweaty forehead with his hand, covering his eyes in frustration.

"C'mon, stop. We are here now, and we are together"

You pull Reigen's hand away from his face and he rests it on your back, tracing circles on your naked skin with the tip of his fingers. Then, he cups your cheek with his free hand and closes the distance between you and him, kissing you deeply. He moves you on top of his body. Then, you reach for the lampshade switch and turn it off.

"We were good today, we did good to each other" Reigen says, holding you close.

You nod, your hair tickling his chest.

"And tomorrow morning I'll make you breakfast in bed, have sex again if you want and then I'll take you out to eat ramen"

In the darkness it's possible to distinguish only the outline of your bodies, which looked like an individual identity. The motion of your laugh and Reigen stroking your hair can be seen.

"You are every girl's dream. Well, mine in particular. Thank god that after ten years it's still me and you"

You both fall asleep all over each other.

In the morning you wake up to the sunlight shining through the open windows. It floods the room with a warm natural light that makes the white sheets of the bed shine, and even your naked skin. You open your eyes, fluttering them a couple of times. You start to slowly roll on your side, sheets sliding down your body. During the night, Reigen inadvertently scooted away from you and laid on his stomach. He's still sleeping, it's dictated by the slow movement of his back going up and down. The scar he got from his first fight against The Claw is clearly visible, a deep cut running from the top to the bottom of his back. His face is directed towards the window, you can't see the expression he has on his face. But you are more than happy to just settle with looking at his honey colored hair that play with sunlight. You smile full of the awareness that you love Reigen, and Reigen loves you.

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension, you say we’re small and not worth the mention

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT 2 ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART ONE

GENRE ➺ fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood buys a wedding dress for you and he doesn't explain why.

WARNINGS ➺ verbal fighting and an angry confession

DISCLAIMER ➺ i haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment with the canonical story may not line up, and there's so much cheese i might as well become a fromager.

NOTES ➺ this isn't really a series but i felt like giving them a happy ending at least. shoutout to @simrah1012 who asked for a sequel! thank you for your support!

He reserved the dress. After all that talk of cutting down expenses this month, he had it reserved. That was a check every month you (read: he) couldn't pay for it full-price. There was no room for negotiation when he wore his thinking face. So, you refrained from chewing him out in the presence of Kelly.

Your silence meant a storm was brewing. He knew better than to poke the bear. Honestly, you were just thinking of how to go about it. How to ask him why he chose to reserve the dress rather than discard it.

The reason you were there had been dealt with. You had the evidence linking the boutique to the investigation. Why the expenditure? It was like an itch that wouldn't go away. It bugged you. Guilted you. Kept you up at night for a week straight.

Even now when your eyes are burning into the back of his head, you couldn't put yourself into his headspace and understand why.

"You should consider getting a camera, pictures last longer."

You straighten in your seat, ears burning. The same boyish smile he used to get out of trouble flashes in your direction and that confirms to you that he knows what you're thinking.

"Idiot," you say.

His fingers loosen around his book. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know why Lockwood is an idiot as well," George says, breaking into the conversation, cozying into his chair with a tight-lipped smile.

It wasn't uncommon for you to humble Lockwood. George had turned it into his favorite pass time. Considering the two-person mission last week, he wanted to know what exactly warranted the blistering insult.

Sensing his anticipation, Lucy grew curious. She lays her magazine on her lap and fixes her sit. "I'd like to know, too."

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" Lockwood says dryly.

"It's private," you say. The defining tilt of your head and the scrunch of your brows made George and Lucy attentive enough. "You two mind? We'll see you for dinner."

"'Course," George chirps. He shoved his papers under his armpit and headed for the door. Lucy followed begrudgingly. George waves over his shoulder before closing it. "Don't kill him, y/n. Or do. Whichever you feel."

"See you at dinner!" Lucy adds before the click of the lock confirms that you had gotten the privacy you asked for.

You round on Lockwood to find that he was setting up to leave too.

"Client asked–"

"You can respond later," you dismiss.

He presses his lips together, likely coming up with another bollucks excuse to make an exit. But he also knows you, and he knows there is no leaving. So, he comes up with an alternate route;

"y/n," he says, tone on the brink of scolding you.

It doesn't work. Evidently.

You scoff, folding your arms. "You don't get to talk to me like that. Why did you reserve the dress? That was completely unnecessary-"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!" You pinch your jacket to keep your tone from escalating any further. You wanted to fight. You wanted to fight with him, not against him, but your confusion had boiled to anger and frustration. "We're neck deep in debt and that dress will cost a fortune to pay for and- and-" you lost your voice for a moment. "And it's not like I'll be marrying anyone."

"You will," he says with certainty. "And you'll make someone very happy, y/n."

"But not now! Not at a time like this, Lockwood. Paying for it is more of a burden-"

"Not when it comes to you."

You lunge forward, fisting the his shirt with an intensity that turns your knuckles white. "Will you listen to yourself? Why would you even think of doing that?"

His hand lands on top of yours, gentle and kind. He was warmer than you, always has been. But there's something new in the way he squeezes your hands. He doesn't take your hands off him, simply letting his rest on top of yours. "We take care of each other." He says it like you don't know it already.

"We always do," you agree, lapsing into a calmer tone. It doesn't take away from the guilt eating at you. "But we could have used that money for the house. Or George. Or Lucy." For family, in essence.

His lips tip up, very slight and with a feel of melancholy. "But we don't always know what's going to happen. I could disappear tomorrow–"

"I won't allow that."

He chuckles, brightening at your defiance. "What I mean to say is," his other hands drifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After that, his hand stops under your ear, resting against your jaw. "Getting you that dress is a heartfelt favor if the worst comes to pass. I still want to be a part of an important day of your life." His voice quivers ever so slightly. Lockwood tried to mask it was a cough but you had already heard, and you weren't blind, you know that look. "This is my way of taking care of you."

Your grip on his shirt loosens, grasping the wrist of the hand touching your face. "I'd rather have you than that overpriced dress."

He offers a lazy smile. "Don't lie. I saw how you were looking at your reflection."

Your hold on his wrist tightens, your frown grows deeper. "How was I looking at my reflection?"

"Like you were seeing a dream come true." Kind of like how he looked at you, if you had taken the time to acknowledge it.

You scoff. "And you were thinking about my wedding day, without you in it?"

"I think of you first. I promised." He knew that wasn't the right answer.

"Unbelievable." You shove him away. Hugging yourself and backing away until your leg hits the edge of a couch. "You talk and take risks as if no one will miss you. If you want to be there for me, take care of yourself so you can actually show up!"

"It's not that easy," he responds, empty hands falling to his side. He even turns away, and his refusal to even face you fans the flames once more. "You..."

"I what?" you take a step closer, daring him to finish what he was saying.

He faces you and you're taken aback by the glint of tears edging his brown eyes. They stick to his lashes, on the edge of falling and staining his cheeks, but he's Lockwood, so he blinks to keep it in. It breaks your heart even more.

"You deserve better," he whispers. Some part wishes you didn't hear, but he knows you did.

He's quiet as your mouth falls open and tears appear in your eyes. His nails dig into his palm to keep himself from sweeping you into his arms; Invisible shackles chain him to his spot, leaving him to watch as you cover your mouth and cry.

Even then, your eyes shine with anger. Your wipe at your cheeks furiously, turning your skin red. "How could you say that?"

"Because it's true." He regains the feeling in his limbs but they feel like jelly as he drunkenly motions the world around you. "Everything in this house is old and outdated and covered in dust! You have suitors that own pristine, marble houses without a speck or memories that make you cry. One day, you could live there instead of here, and you'd be happier because you've always wanted a big, bright house."

Your nails dig into your arms, jaw tight with tension. "This is home, Lockwood! I wouldn't change Portland Row for the biggest castle in England. You would know that if you just asked me." You took a shuddering breath. "And yes, maybe I'd be happy in those houses I talked about when I was seven but I've grown older, just as you have, and I know what really matters to me now. If I wanted those fantasies you expect of me, I would have accepted some richman's proposal. But I didn't, because you scare them away and I know you know I wouldn't have left even if they had asked me. But for the sake of it, I need to ask; If you wanted to send me away so badly, why haven't you?"

"Are you blind?" He shakes his head in disbelief. After all that, he has to spell it out for you. "Because I love you!"

For ten seconds, all you can hear is your breathing. The climb of emotions coming to a crescendo as you walk to him. He meets you in the middle and your arms come around him; his come around you, and finally, you kiss.

When you break for air, he holds fast to you. His forehead on yours like parting would hurt. "I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his eyes staying closed. "And I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn't in the picture–"

"I want you there," you say pointedly. Like your statement could beat away the rest of the doubt swirling in his head. "I want you. I want you and me, together. I don't want to lose you just as much as you don't want to lose me."

He pulls you closer, until you can feel his heart beat in sync with yours. "I love you." He says, and it sets him free. "You're my best friend."

"Always have been, always will be." That's a promise you press onto his lips. You bring his hand to your lips and place a kiss on his bruised knuckle.

He smiles for real and you can't help but copy. "I'm supposed to do that," he complains.

"Too slow," you laugh. You brush your nose against his and feel his hand settle on the small of your back. "I love you."

He laughs and it tickles your lips.

"Pinch me, I'm dreaming." You oblige and he yelps. "Not literally, y/n."

"No pet name?"

"No. I like your name."

"Yeah?"

He ghosts his lips over yours, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah. However," he switches to that tone that makes you want to strangle him sometimes. "We have got to tackle the issue of your last name. It doesn't go that well with your first."

"How do you propose we fix that?" Both your arms drape over his shoulder, playing with the overgrown hair at his nape.

"Well, I'll attend your wedding and we get it changed."

"Changed to what?" You tilt your head and laugh when he angles his to chase you.

"Mine, of course," he proclaims proudly. His smile is so wide you notice the blush on his cheeks now, it makes you weak in the knees.

Still, you can't help but tease. "That would be confusing for Lucy and George though. We'd both be turning our heads when they say 'Lockwood'."

"Now that problem is one I dream of coming true."

He steals a yelp from you as he dips you, enjoying how you cling to his shoulders before he lowers his head and finally catches your lips.

—

"Cheesy," George shudders. He and Lucy had heard the loudest parts of the argument from the kitchen, including Lockwood's long awaited confession.

"I find it sweet," Lucy shrugs, turning a page of her magazine. "But then I remember it's Lockwood and y/n and cringe as well."

"Oh, Luce, I haven't even considered that they'd get even worse."

"What do you mean?"

George points his wooden spoon at Lucy. "If the pair or them pining was bad enough, we have to see them–" he gulps, like the idea was scarier than the Red Room. "–be in love."

Both shuddered.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sometimes being in the SW Fandom is about diving into the annals of the internet researching the most obscure tidbit of batshit insane Canon or EU Lore imaginable to man (which is honestly my favorite thing to do because people have done some pretty insanely funny things with this universe and characters). But for the majority of the time, being in the SW Fandom is also watching people repeat a cycle of asinine arguments that make an absolute ass out of them for the worst possible reasons.

So here's a quick reminder of past arguments to be mindful of and always consider, when you see something in the tags that makes you wrinkle your nose at:

Everyone has something they like or dislike about the overall universe and story. Be it the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, the Sequels, the Animated series, the Live-Action series, EU stuff, Novels, etc. No one is above or below anyone else just because they don't love the entirety of the universe and/or the direction the current writers are taking it.

Canon can be a good baseline for your own creative purposes. You don't have to love it (because yes the whole thing can be inconsistent as hell), but don't get to a point in your fanfic/AU world-building where you vehemently deny that canon is an actual thing. This goes hand in hand with your personal depiction of characters vs someone else's depictions. Reading comprehension and the creative process depend on perspective and how you process the information you're given, so it's only normal that no two person's idea of a character is the same. But saying that your headcanons are how the characters should be written by everyone is not gonna do you any favors in the long run, because it's not up to you to decide on that. Don't forget Blorbo's actual roots and what it took to get him where you took him, but don't try to force someone else to accept the journey you orchestrated for them!

No one's OC should be put on a pedestal. It's good that people feel comfortable enough to play Barbies with each other's OCs in roleplay sessions, or even add a cameo in a fic to a character of a friend and/or artist/writer they admire from a distance. Hell, the fact many people are passionate about someone else's little fella/s is great! But the moment someone's OC becomes an object of obsession within a Fandom community, things can go a little wrong... It stops being fun to be in that kind of space that goes from welcoming OC discussions to suddenly shunning new people in favor of someone's Ultimate Blorbo who now has a Cult Following and should be written into every fanfic ever.

No one is evil for lacking knowledge or self-awareness of certain grievances that people rightfully have with the source material. The SW Fandom has always had a long-standing issue with racial stereotyping, whitewashing, cultural appropriation, sexism and many other equally serious topics that have been more eloquently explained in posts made by people much more eloquent and qualified than I am or ever will be. However, one must recognize that not everyone who joins the Fandom is immediately aware of these things. Especially the younger generations that have either not been exposed to these concepts due to one reason or another (upbringing, biased educational curriculum, etc), or because they were simply never in a position where they could delve into these topics with someone knowledgeable on them (some experiences simply aren't universal, especially if you come from a more privileged family). For the most part, SW is just a silly sci-fi universe that is nothing more than a simple means of escapism or dumb fun. Not everyone is going to study it under a microscope or go through it with a fine comb. That said, another important thing to remember is to listen to those who know their stuff and that have had personal grievances with any of the topics above. You can be excused for lack of knowledge, but you cannot be excused for purposefully ignoring the voices of those who provide you said knowledge for free if you go searching.

This is kinda returning to the second and previous topics, but I really need to put emphasis on this: If you're going to cling to certain design choices with an iron first and incorporate them into your personal ideas/headcanons, please always consider how it SOUNDS when you say characters that are written with basis on real POC people/communities are much better/superior if they have phenotypical trait expressions that are not present (or considered rare/atypical) in their real world basis. This is a CONSISTENT problem I have seen crop up specifically within the Clone Wars and Bad Batch sides of the fandom, especially when talking about Rex (who is a blond) and Clone Force 99 (who do not look like standard clones). Always remember: The problem isn't that Rex can't be naturally blond (genetics can be unpredictable and we really don't have an extensive look into the cloning process), the problem is the way some people think he'd be inferior in some way if he were a bottle blond who chose to distinguish himself (almost as if having darker skin, darker hair and darker eyes is somehow worse than having lighter skin, lighter hair or lighter eyes.. How curious isn't it?). Needless to say, I don't think I need to elaborate further on why CF99's "desirable mutations" giving them considerably lighter skin and less ethnic features, while also making their most POC presenting member look and sometimes act like a moronic brute (something which this Fandom pushes further by infantilizing him relentlessly), is a bit of a red flag...

Star Wars has always been political. It is literally in the name and in the meat of the writing. The entire thing is basically a political and social critique presented in a sci-fi/fantasy wrapper, with colorful plasma swords, cool spaceships, and kickass explosion bow on top. You cannot separate the political conversation from the universe's overall lore, and trying to do so makes you look foolish. Disney may have taken creative liberties with some of its shows, but at the end of the day they can't ever eliminate what the Original Trilogies and even the Prequels tried to tell us about. With that said, complaining about how some of the new shows are "too Woke" or PC is the equivalent of saying you read Romeo and Juliet and that the story is relationship goals. You might need to revisit the original material.

For the love of god if you don't like something, don't go after someone who does, it's not worth it. Sometimes the best thing you can do is either filter something you actively dislike/that makes you feel uncomfortable, or simply unfollow/block whoever is repeatedly bringing it onto your doorstep. And you also have no real obligation to explain your decision to block someone, especially if they hound you for questions. Rule of thumb: Don't like something? That's perfectly fine and valid. Take the steps to make yourself comfortable then, but don't go out of your way to be a royal asshole to someone else just because they themselves enjoy it. This encompasses things from anti-jedi demonization, actual ethnic cleansing in canon, siding with personifications of alt-right extremists, proshipping apologism, etc. The block button was added to this hellsite for a reason. Use it.

Sometimes you can't change someone else's opinions on a matter and that is perfectly fine. Just don't start a feud. People come and go, and their opinions vary (we're all individuals with out own perspectives and unique experiences after all), but getting up in arms every time someone either refuses to yield in a long-winded argument, or continuously tries to shove their unsolicited opinions/advice onto you, or even makes incredibly uncomfortable/forward/gross comments that they definitely shouldn't be saying to a complete stranger on the internet, is kind of pointless and will drain you of energy faster than you can say Death Star. You're not the lesser person for walking away from a lost cause. It's ultimately not your job or responsibility to fix/better someone else. Especially if they don't want to change.

[alexiswritingstuff]

Just wanted to let you know that I've been binge reading all of your writings and I love them so much, keep up the good work! :)

I know you might have a lot of Gus requests, so it's okay if you put this one on the back burner for a bit. But I read the "Not So Scary After All" work and I was wondering if you could write a sort of sequel to it?

Maybe Jesse keeps trying to tell GN reader how obvious it is that he likes them. How he's seen him try not to smile when talking to reader, the softer tone of voice, things like that.

Reader obviously doesn't believe him and thinks that Gus is just being nice to his employees, especially the ones that are responsible for the cooks.

Anyways, after a few days of Jesse pestering the reader about it something happens to make them realize he might be right. I was thinking maybe they would make another mistake with the cook and Walter is there to see it. Maybe he gets mad, a little TOO mad, and Gus walks in 🤭 Or anything else works too! I just love the premise of a protective Gus that doesn't like to show how protective he actually is

First of all, thank you for the comment about my writings, I'm glad you have enjoyed them so far! Initially I didn't think about writing a part two, so I hope this does it justice, as well as that I hope it was what you were looking for!

Thank you for sending this in!

Not so scary after all. 2/2

Pairing: Gustavo x gender neutral reader.

Other appearances: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White.

Warnings: arguing, walter being a douche.

also be aware of spelling mistakes, or other errors. I do read these over but I can tend to miss stuff either way!

A/N: my brain has been fixated on other characters recently, so if these guys seem ooc then that may be why. It's hard to write scenes where gustavo is interested in another person because we barely get to see that in either show, so I also hope my portrayal of him just generally feels correct.

I hope you enjoy!

more Gustavo fics.

Taglist- @sukunamybeloved - @viviennemuerte - @miwagila - @marksassybanana

previous part.

It never mattered how many times you had gone through the same routine. Surprisingly, considering your line of work, waking up in the morning was always the most jarring part. 

You could’ve had a great nights sleep, not woken up at any point, had no distractions or noisy neighbours. Yet the second you were in that car to get to the laundromat, it was like you had to force your eyes to stay open. 

Which was apparently the same for Jesse too as there was a series of mumbles and grumbles that would fill the car every few seconds. 

Each time you spared a glance to the passenger seat he would be leant further and further into window, his head bobbing whenever there was a difference in ground level or direction of the wheels. 

It had you amused, but also a little concerned, “Did you wake up too early, or too late?”

Seeking no comfort from the hardness of the glass, and after his temple ended up smacking right into it, Jesse got himself to sit upright in a speed that closely resembled one of those stairlifts. 

He groaned, having to make consistent attempts to keep his body from just slumping all together, “Both?” His hands raised to his head, the sides of his fingers beginning to rub at his eyes as if it would rid them of their tiredness.

In all honesty, outside of the cooking sessions and other shenanigans you found yourself in, you and Jesse never really... hung out. There would be times where you had lunch together, or had to show up to his house if there was something to drop off.

But that was mostly it.

And there wasn’t exactly a reason as to why. You had absolutely nothing against Pinkman, it was like the opposite. The more you spent time with him, the more you felt like some kind of guardian watching over some kid. Even if he also was an adult.

“You had breakfast, though, right?” Your gaze was trained on the lane ahead despite your ongoing conversation.

You had just turned onto a state road, meaning that, regardless of it being early in the morning, people were up and about. Trying to get to their jobs.

It always made it seem busier than it was.

At first, in response to your question, Jesse simply emitted another mumble of something. He was thinking, the intensity in which he rubbed at his eyes increasing for a moment, and then his hands dropped. “Oh,”

“Shit, I don’t... I don’t know.”

You supressed the urge to sigh. It had already happened a few times. Depending on what he did the night before, there would be some mornings where his mind was rattled enough that he would almost forget where he even was, so.

You came prepared. 

“Well, I guess luck is on your side today.” you commented, flexing your fingers against the grips of the steering wheel, “There should be a sandwich or something in the back.”

By now Jesse’s head was leaning into the headrest, definitely having the same problem of trying to keep his eyes open like you did. The heat outside probably wasn’t a helpful factor either. “Seriously?”

You didn’t want to take your attention off of the road. The cars in front were starting to slow, and you needed to keep note of the distance from the ones at the back. “Check.” you told him, adjusting the rear view mirror for better visibility.

Jesse sort of rolled his head to the side after a moment, his chin almost knocking into the bone of his shoulder as his gaze cast onto the few items that were in the back seats.

He lazily blinked for a good few seconds, his eyes trying to adjust to the redirection of a sunlight beam. And then he saw it. Right in the middle.

A brown bag.

“No way.”

The next move he made was so fast that the seatbelt strapped around him had immediately stalled against his body, attempting to keep him in place at the assumption of sudden danger.

But that wasn’t enough to stop him at all. 

He pushed against it once, then twice, and then one more time before simply manoeuvring himself around the belt so that the top half would basically be protecting the car seat instead of him. 

When Jesse leaned himself between your seat and his, it was so much harder to keep your attention on the road. He was reaching out, arm extended as far as it could go and waving almost madly, until eventually, he grabbed the bag.

Jesse practically had to shove himself backwards to sit upright again, but soon he was able to resume his previous position with a big sigh of relief. Your head could only shake. 

Now, there was this sound a rustling paper that filled the entire car as you moved onto the accompanying lane. Something that was definitely not supporting your concentration. “Damn.”

His voice was muffled, the noises coming out of his mouth barely even sounding like a word which in turn made you send him a look.

He had finally gotten to the sandwich. “You make this?”

“Nah, I had too many errands to run.” you informed with a slight sigh, finally beginning to let yourself relax in your seat, “Would’ve done it if I had the time, but I think that is better anyway.”

Jesse didn’t even have to speak for you to know his response. He had taken another bite, nodding his head just slightly in proper approval. If his eyes were closed it would look like he was in pure bliss.

After relentlessly chewing for a hot minute, he attempted to swallow it down, “I didn’t-- I didn’t take you as an early riser.” Yet his voice was still almost unintelligible.

“Well, believe it or not, other people are in fact active in the mornings.” you pointed out, slightly leaning to the side for further emphasis on who the comment was aimed at in a way that had Jesse rolling his eyes. 

You swear you saw a clump of crumbs fly from his mouth when he next spoke, “Yeah, yeah-- You sure your too many errands wasn’t just you making sure that you looked good for a certain Fring?”

Your head snapped in his direction in a way that had looking back to the road immediately after, and probably almost gave you whiplash. But you saw it either way.

That damn grin had taken over his lips.

Again. 

“Please don’t do this right now.”

Jesse had to clear his throat to stop himself from almost choking, “Aw come on, man, it’s-- There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you did.” Your head shook like it had done before, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was always so stupid to you how the indirect mention of someone made your body react the way it did. You were only trying to get to work, yet your heart was acting as if you had just gone for a run. 

“But I do.” The look you sent Jesse almost had him wanting to put his hands up if he wasn’t so focused on his sandwich, “What? I do-- Look, I may not have that much experience, or whatever, but there is totally something going on.”

“Definitely on his end at least.” He moved the sandwich around in his hands, trying to locate the best part to bite as he had finally swallowed the last one, “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen him give you the look.”

Your eyebrows furrowed within seconds, “The... The what now?” You tried to turn in his direction for confirmation, but he seemed a bit too busy to notice your movement.

Due to a junction being up ahead, your foot had moved onto the foot break, watching the lights fully change the closer you drew.

“The look.” Jesse finally repeated, his mouth full all over again in a way that needed real concentration to understand the words coming out of it, “Yeah, he gives you the look, like, all the time.”

Soon, the car in front of you had fully stopped, and then so did yours as you put it into first gear, keeping your feet on the first two pedals.

The moment the car had stopped moving, you turned to Jesse within seconds, eyebrows furrowed more than they had ever been. “What is the look?”

Pinkman gave you a simple glance at first, thinking that you were just messing around as he kept munching away... But no matter how much time went by, you didn't move. Still watching him.

His chewing slowed when his head turned back in your direction. He just blinked for a moment. “You don’t know... You don’t know what the look is?”

Your chin lowered, your eyelids slightly doing the same, “Does it sound like I know what it is?”

“Okay, but... how?” Despite Jesse’s previous complete interest in his sandwich, it lowered with his hands to his lap. There was utter confusion written all over his face while he remained smacking away. “How do you not-- How old are you?”

Your attention went to the road ahead all over again, the back of your head sinking into the headrest as a huff left your lips, “Older than you.” you pointed out, trying to sound more authoritative, but that just seemed to spark an already lit flame. 

“Then how do you not see it, huh? I mean, even I can tell that it’s pretty obvious-- And not just because of the look either,” Jesse fully twisted in his seat so that he faced you, “He like... He wants to actually, like, talk to you, and shit-- I’ve seen him smile-- genuinely smile at you, okay?"

“Now, if he was doing it to me? I would... Man, I would be terrified-- But it’s you, it’s... different.” You were trying so hard not to shake your head again, but Jesse’s voice practically being right in your right ear was making it a lot more difficult. “It’s something else--”

“It’s not...” You regripped the steering wheel, “You do realise we’re talking Gustavo Fring, right?” Your head attempted to turn back to Jesse, though your eyes were trying to keep the attention on the road as one of the final vehicles seemed to cross through the junction. 

“Exactly!” Jesse practically threw his arms up, almost losing his grasp on the sandwich in the process, “You should be caring about this more than you do.”

Your head shook as your gaze fully went back to the road, your foot readying to release the clutch while your fingers tapped against the steering wheel in anticipation. 

You were trying to find something to zone in on, something to distract yourself from the kid sitting in your passenger seat as he was still eagerly trying to get you to see the things the way he did. But you weren’t giving it to him. 

“Fine then.” Jesse reached behind him, grabbing the top half of the seatbelt, pulling it until it was in front of him again, before he ducked himself beneath. 

“But I’m telling you, Y/n.” It was back, slinging diagonally across his torso by the time he was seated properly, and also by the time the lights had finally turned green.

“You’ll see.”

~

There was something about this day that was starting to feel a little familiar. 

You and Jesse had arrived ages ago. You had gone down the windy red stairs, did the whole thing of taking off unnecessary clothing so that you wouldn’t completely boil in the obnoxiously yellow protective suit you would put on next. 

And at first, once you were all geared up, the two of you stood in front of the machines. Your heads were raised, eyes cast up to the walkway above as you awaited the arrival of your usual partner at their usual time...

But the door never opened. 

There was no proper estimate for how long the two of you just stayed waiting as you had set your watch to the side, and the clock was on the other side of the room, however, there was one thing you knew for sure. Someone was late. 

Eventually, the two of you were trying to compensate, finding something useful to do while giving the benefit of the doubt that maybe it was just tough traffic or something going on that made them lose track of time.

Though, the ability to sympathise got smaller and smaller the more minutes began to turn into full on hours. 

You found yourself at your usual table with your hand supporting the weight of your head, attempting to occupy your mind by looking over the paperwork from passed cooks. A habit that you only recently developed. 

“Dude,” you heard somewhere to your side before there was an exasperated sigh, and a quick creaking of a chair, “What the hell is taking him so long?”

Earlier, Jesse had taken one of the other wheeled chairs from the table connected to yours and had rolled somewhere, enough so that you could only see him from the corner of your eye.

His body was slumped back, the seat beneath him creaking with every move that he made. And considering that he didn’t have anything to do, that was like every. Single. Second. 

He had tried out the difference created when he would shift his weight, tested what it would feel like to have his legs hanging over the left side of the chair and then the right, he had pushed his feet onto the floor to roll himself backwards and forwards against the smooth tiles.

And now, as apparently none of that had seemed to have settle his mind, Jesse had resorted to zipping and unzipping the protective suit he was so ready to take off by now. Over, and over... And over again. “Okay,”

“That’s it.”

The pencil held in your gasp was cast to the side of the notepad, you were barely looking at this point, before your hands moved to the edge of the table so that you could push against it enough that your chair started to roll.

You stood up, winding round the seat that was still on the move as you began to walk towards one of the pathways between the machines. Jesse fully planted his feet on the ground, “Yo, Y/n, where are you going?” 

Your fingers grasped onto the zip of your suit and you yanked it down as far as you could without having to bend for the rest, beginning to pulling your arms out one after the other moments after. 

You moved round that damn settling tank and soon ended up at the wall where you would keep or hang up your loose items. “I...” you began, your voice becoming strained as you bent down to free your feet of those big welly boots, “am going to find out what the hell is going on.”

The squeak of a chair echoed somewhere to the back of the room. “Well, don’t-- Don’t leave me in here by myself.” 

Finally, after one last tussle, your, once worn, protective suit was now sprawled on the ground beside the clothing rack. You moved to your usual shoes, putting either feet in their respective ware before tying the laces to make sure they wouldn’t fall off. 

Before Jesse could even appear by your side to complete the same process, you were on the move once again, directing towards those windy red stairs that always made you feel like you were going to fall up and/or down them. 

“Y/n, wait, dude, wait-- Just give me a minute.” You could hear the hurried rustling of plastic suit echoing through the steps you took on the metal staircase. 

Eventually, when your movements had allowed you to arrive at the cat walk, you found yourself complying to Jesse’s words... While the man himself was still trying, and failing, to get the suit off. 

It gave you a moment to catch a breath you hadn’t been able to take all day. You were stood high, looking down at the problems below, and not drowning neck deep in it like you usually did. 

A deep breath sucked into your nostrils as you let your eyes fall closed, the air of the lab starting to cool the warmth that had festered across your skin--

A sharp whistle squealed through from your left before it bounced around each wall one after the other. 

Your eyes had snapped open as soon as the sound appeared, but it wasn’t until your head had started to turn that your brain realised what it had come from. 

It was the door.

Your body twisted in the direction of the man who was almost stumbling across the cat walk, a series of huffs and puffs spluttering from his mouth that would have you worrying any other day. 

But as of now, all you did was cross your arms over your chest.

“Yo, Mr. White! What the hell took you so long, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he began through a slight wheeze that ended with him doing this horrendous cough. And once he was about three steps in front of you, he stilled his apparently over exhausted body, using a hand to shift his weight onto the railing, “There was... car trouble, and stuff with the kids, you-- you know kids.”

“You would think, maybe, after the first one that it was going to get easier and then...”

In the midst of Mr. White stabilising himself, his head had turned to the right in at attempt to locate Jesse, which wasn’t hard to do considering the fact that he was still taking off that damn suit, to further emphasis his... guilt?

But instead, after he did a sort of double take, he began to slowly face you once again, “Why aren’t any of the machines on, why... Why aren’t you wearing your suit?”

“We were waiting for you. I was just about to try and find at least someone to tell us where you were.”

“Wait... Wait a minute,” Mr. White started, holding his hands up while he took a step closer. “You didn’t start?” His chin slightly lowered in a way that made his eyes peer at you over his glasses. 

“No?” you stated simply, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change to his demeanour, “After last time... We didn’t think you wanted us to do it by ourselves.”

“But that was-- That was last time, Y/n.” With every word that the man spoke, his hands rose higher and higher until they were inches away from touching his face, “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

The urge to scoff was stronger than ever, and you had to hold it back more than you ever had in your life, “I think I should be asking you that question.”

The man before you began shaking his head in a way that was almost not visible. “I told you... I was having problems with my car.” For a moment his expression remained the way it was, a visible attempt at holding back what you were guessing was anger. 

But then it failed. 

“I have... a family to take care of...” His hands dropped to his sides. When he next spoke the corners of his mouth slightly downturned like there was utter distaste for the words coming out of his mouth, “They are not going to be put at expense because, again, you weren’t able to do a simple job.”

Regardless of how loud it usually was when someone walked up the windy stairs, right now, as Jesse began to do just that, it was barely audible to your ears. The sound fading more and more the longer you stared at the man before you. “Guys, can we just--”

“I am doing my job just fine, Mr. White.” you started up with this lack of emotion to your voice, trying to make it as clear as possible that you wanted to get this over and done with, “We just didn’t want to do another batch all by ourselves, simply, because you couldn’t be bothered to show up.” Though it seemed your mouth had other plans. 

There was something that almost satisfactory when you saw a side of his face twitch. But soon, it was one that ended with this sort of smile curling at his lips, his eyebrows raising more than you had ever seen in your time working with him. “Oh.”

“So, you want me to apologise for making a singular mistake? Is that it?” He took yet another step towards you, “You know what, how about we count how many times you have made-- No, caused, a mistake, hmm?”

You couldn’t count the amount of voices that were telling you to take a step back, to move away the closer he got to stand directly in front of you, “But that wasn’t only my fault-- There’s a big difference between actually trying and just not showing up.” 

Your feet remained planted on the ground beneath. Your arms were held tighter than ever across your torso as you tried to maintain the blankest expression possible.  

“Dude, both of you just... just chill out, please.” Jesse tried to insist as he walked up the last few steps, but no one paid any attention to his words, “We can-- We can work this out--”

“You allowed a contamination,” Mr. White began, narrowing his eyes as if in disbelief, “How did you-- Did they not teach you to read, or listen, to instructions in school?”

“My education has nothing to do with this.” you insisted without missing a beat. And regardless of your attempts to keep your composure, it was inevitable that something began slipping into your voice.

You had been up early.

You had been running back and forth to make sure that certain things were sorted for certain people, had to drive all the way to downtown to pick up Jesse and then all the way back up to get here. To work.  

And then, while at work, you weren’t even able do your damn job because your other partner, that was supposed to be there at a specific time by contract, just didn’t show up. 

Which then lead you and Jesse to have to stand and do absolute jack shit for hours on end. 

Walter just shook his head again, even raising his hands like he was about to shove you or something, though he might have wanted to simply point a finger, “Well, apparently it does, because if you still aren’t competent enough to follow something so basic, then--”

“What is going on here?”

Within the next second, the man in front of you had twisted round in a way that almost gave you whiplash just from watching. He stepped to the side, and moved backwards until he was practically next to you. “Oh, Gus, I, uh... We were just... Slow start.”

But, of course, he was still a little ahead. 

Your feet, however, hadn’t moved an inch. In fact the only move you made was to let your arms finally fall free to your sides as you stared onwards. 

It was Gustavo. He was stood in the doorframe, one hand pressing against the weighted metal so that he had enough time to take in his surroundings. And then he took the final step inside. 

It was only when the door closed behind him that you realised you hadn’t even heard it open in the first place. 

The lab was back to what it had been minutes ago. Silent. No sound at all filtering throughout the entire room. 

Gustavo stilled himself not far from the door he had walked through, but enough so that you could feel his presence as well as see it. His arms were unmoving by his sides, a trait that would’ve carried out through his entire body if he hadn’t started moving his head. 

Like Walter had done when he arrived, Gustavo looked at the room below. He studied it, looked from one section to the other while noting the quietness that was effecting even him. 

And then he turned back to the people across from him, the expression on his face unwavering, “Why is that? There’s nothing in the machines.”

“You know, ex-- exactly.” the man to your side suddenly spoke up, snapping your attention from the other guy you wanted to look at a little longer. “I had... countless problems with a lot of things this morning, and I wasn’t able to arrive on time.”

Walter sort of took a step forward, but instead of what you would naturally think of when someone carried out such a movement, he didn’t properly face Gustavo. 

He stood side on, his body turned towards the machines so he could look at you or his boss with a simple movement of his head. And as of now, you seemed to be his main target. “Apparently they couldn’t be bothered to start the batch themselves.”

“That’s not true.” You mirrored his stance, faced directly towards him, instead of the man who was just trying to seek answers, as your eyebrows furrowed as much as they could. 

Walter tilted his head, “You sure?” he asked, using the most condescending voice that would of set you off had you already lost the grasp on your, slowly dissipating, self control. 

“Yes, I don’t understand--” Your hand rose to your face, fingers pressing into the skin beneath before dragging down to your chin. And then they dropped. You took in a deep breath. “Look... I admit it, sure, we could have started the cook. But.”

“Me and Jesse both thought it was smarter to wait after the previous mistake,” you began, emphasising your point by gesturing to the dude who was now stood behind, and his eyes sort of widened at the sudden attention. 

This time it was you who took the step forward. “But yet again,” You made sure to hold yourself back from blinking as you stared right at the man who was trying so hard not to cut you off, your fists clenched at your sides. “You. Weren’t. Here.”

Your heart was thudding in your ears, a sound louder than any other thing in the room. The exhaustion was rampant through your body, continuously attacking system, and at this point testing your patience that had already become thin. 

The ability to control anything was about one minute away from collapsing. 

“Why were you late, Mr. White?”

When Gustavo’s voice caught your ears, you hadn’t even bothered to look his way despite the fact that Walter did. In fact, he took the chance to move away from you, which almost made him bump into the other railing. 

“Car troubles, and, uh... family stuff, too, you know... all that.” he informed, his voice and the look of his face switching into one that you could instantly tell was the fakest attempt of trying to get sympathy. 

“And you didn’t inform anyone of these... troubles?”

Your head turned in about a second, your gaze snapping to the man who hadn’t moved a singular inch since the last time you properly saw him. His attention was only on Walter, his eyes now slightly narrowed. 

“What...” Mr. White started, the shock clear within his voice and the expression on his face, “Are you... Are you trying to say that this is my fault?”

“I am not saying anything, Mr. White.” Gustavo’s turned in the mans direction with such slowness that had a look of regret taking over anything else that was threatening to appear on Walters face. And once he stilled, he had even slightly tilted it to the side, “I am simply asking questions to understand why a job hasn’t been completed.”

Walter let out this sort of scoff of a sound as he gestured with his hands like before, “Well, then your asking the wrong person, Gus.” 

He pointed towards you, this time not even bothering to look unless it was to make sure his finger was actually aimed in your direction, “They... They have been here for who knows how long, I... I-- I mean, the batch could’ve finished by now, if they just--”

“You are putting the blame... on them?” Gustavo’s voice was low, deep in pitch that it was almost gravelly and harsh to any ears that heard it. There was no direct tone, or emotion clear within it. But paired with the slow step forward, anyone could tell that it wasn’t good. 

“You are putting the blame on a person who was actively trying to solve a problem that you created... because you weren’t competent enough to make a phone call?”

You were use to his intimidation tactics. In all honesty, usually, it seemed even more affective when he wasn’t using them, like when he wore that smile that never really reached his eyes. 

But this...

This was different. 

When Gustavo wanted to intimidate someone, or remind them of their place in the bigger picture. He had relationships to maintain, an act to keep up so that nothing could expose him and/or his business, so he never risked insulting a person in case it would backfire, create unnecessary problems.

Gustavo Fring wasn’t a man who directly insulted someone unless he was going to gain something from it... Well, apparently, until now. 

For the next few seconds it seemed that Mr. White couldn’t find the exact reaction he had. His lips twitched almost every way that they could, his mouth would open and close again and again like he was mimicking a fish, all the while his head began to shake once again, “I don’t... I don’t know what to say-- I can’t... Gus, I just--”

“I have heard all I needed.” There were no movements that accompanied his words. No change to his voice a part from a mild show of a tested patience. Gustavo just stared at the man before him, unblinking, “You still have plenty time to cook.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“That’s what you came here to do... Is it not?” Gustavo pointed out simply, his head tilting to the side in a way that almost made him look like a puppy. But his face said all that it needed to. 

Walter sort of cowered, avoiding the mans gaze as he took a moment to think, “I... I-- Well... Yes, but--”

In about a second, though there was almost nothing displayed on Gustavo’s face, everything sort of... dropped? His eyelids lowered in a way that wasn’t enough to hide his eyes but it was still visible, his jaw unclenched, his lips almost looked like they were turning down the way. 

But again. Not once did he blink. 

“Then cook.”

For a solid ten seconds, there was just utter silence. Someone could have drop a pin on the other side of the room, and it would still echo like any other sound. No one moved. No one twitched. No one spoke.

Walter took in a deep breath, his shoulders deflating when it made its way back out. And then he turned, beginning to do just as Gustavo said this time without any argument.

But the moment you started to do to the same thing--

“Not you.”

You froze. Your body hadn’t even managed to twist yet, so after sending a look to Jesse who sent one right back, you simply rocked back on your feet, resuming the same position you were in before. 

His eyes were only on yours. The first time he had fully looked at you since he had entered the room. 

“We have... other matters to discuss.”

~

After you left the room, it was practically silent when you began to walk.

There was the usual sounds that occurred from the machines within the laundromat, and the workers who you were still not sure knew about the giant meth lab beneath there feet, but between you and Gustavo there was nothing. 

No exchange of words and barely even the sound of your own footsteps. 

He was a few steps ahead of you, which may have been one of the main reasons, as he lead you across the paths that had big machines towering over you on each side. 

There would be a few moments were you had to duck, or even completely manoeuvre, around certain objects that were hung, either needing to dry or they were connected to a moving system that would bring clothes from one section to another.  

You had no idea where you were going. The second the two of you had officially exited the lab, his lips had became sealed. He just started walking, and of course, you only had one response to that. 

Your gaze pretty much remained on Gustavo’s back no matter how far you went, only fleeting to make sure that you weren’t going to bump into anything, as you followed the man in front of you like a lost duckling... Though, you felt more like a child getting ready to be told off. 

Eventually, after stopping yourself from getting caught up in the thoughts swirling through your mind, you found yourself walking out of the big vertical door. The entrance of the laundromat. 

If your heart wasn’t pounding before it sure was now. And no matter how badly you wanted to just focus on the feeling of fresh air after being stuck in an underground room for what felt like, and probably was, about five hours... Gustavo stopped walking. 

He was stood at the edge of the paved platform, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he resumed that usual straight posture. 

Your steps grew slower the more close you got to standing by his side. You wanted to gage his mood, predict what was about to happen or what he was going to say, which was a bit difficult considering that you could only see the back of his head. 

You cleared your throat when you had arrived to the right of him. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, adjusting to the sudden presence of the sun, while you gently leaned back and forth on your feet. 

“Sir, I... I’m really sorry about this... Again,” you had begun, but almost immediately your speech planned in your head seemed to have fallen apart. 

You turned your head to the side, trying to properly convey your apology through your face more than your words. “I know it doesn’t help the business, but I really, really, don’t know why this keeps happening--”

“Y/n.” 

You had already been looking at Gustavo throughout your words. And maybe it was because you were too caught up in your mind, or because originally the man before you had been gazing into the distance with the usual expression that barely gave you anything to work with. 

But now he was looking right back at you. 

“Yes?” you answered subconsciously in a way that had your mouth snapping shut immediately after realising that you didn’t need to actually do that. 

This time, Gustavo’s chin lowered, “I’m not going to scold you, Y/n.” His gaze was the most gentle you had ever seen it, along with sound of his voice. He may have said the words simply, and matter of factly, but his face told you otherwise. 

You sort of just stood there for a moment, blinking at him. “You... You’re...” And then your eyebrows furrowed all over again, your body turning so that you faced him directly, “You’re not?”

Gustavo kept looking at you, and finally, since thatsituation with Mr. White, you weren’t presented with an expression of judgement. It wasn’t a look that visibly told that they thought whatever they were seeing was utter stupidity. 

He took in a breath, letting his eyes fall back on the busy town ahead for a split second, before they were back on your own, “I want you to go home.” 

His voice was lighter, the expression on his face no longer holding the tension that had clung to his skin. 

Your lips parted, even if no sound initially came out. You stared back at him for a moment, your eyes a little wider than they were before, almost unblinking, “Did I mess up that badly?”

Gustavo’s eyebrows furrowed so quickly that you hadn’t caught onto it until he turned his body in your direction, “Forgive my phrasing.” he started, his hands remaining behind his back no matter the change of position, “This is not a punishment.” 

With his next words, Gustavo made sure that you were looking at him, right into his eyes, just in case his meaning was conveyed through his voice, “You are not in trouble for the wrongdoings of another man.”

... Were you missing something? Why would Gustavo take you out of the lab? 

I mean, sure, you made the deduction that not starting the batch might’ve not been such a great idea, and honestly at some point expected to get a good talking too because of it. Maybe it would be the final straw... 

But here you were. Theman himself, the big boss, stood right in front of you. Directly telling you that you’re not in trouble.

“Then... I’m going to have to say that I don’t understand, Sir.” The muscles beneath your brows were getting a good work out from consistently changing between being normal and then furrowed within, practically, every thirty seconds, “We still have a batch to do, a deadline to follow.”

Influenced yet again by a man stood before you, “And who is that for?” 

Your whole body felt like it wanted to deflate, fall limp and just collapse on the ground. This time it wasn’t in anger, or fear, or annoyance. It was because after everything, you could exhale the nerves that had clung to your insides. There was no use for them now. 

You lightly nodded your head, the fact of not being in trouble officially processing in a way that had your gaze lowering, “... You.”

Gustavo wanted to smile. He wanted to display his pride of finally cracking the code that was your mind, having created even a bit of equal understanding, but he could still see the ghost of the previous expression that held your face hostage. The genuine concern over possible harming his business.

And him. 

“I am not asking you to leave because I think that you are bad at your job, or that you don’t do anything for this business-- Because that would be entirely wrong.” he started up with this new voice that was difficult to ignore, “I am simply saying that you have the day off.”

“It is... normal in a workplace, is it not?”

By the time your eyes met Gustavo’s, your brows had furrowed once again, though now, it was for a very different reason, “I mean... Yes-- But not in this business, just...” 

There was a huff of air that passed through your lips. Theexhaustion from earlier was presenting itself back into your system, making the want to talk become a lot less than before, “Let me-- Let me go back in there, we can work, we can... we can get it done.”

Gustavo’s head began shaking before you had even finished your sentence, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” you questioned, leaning back slightly so that you could fully take in his demeaner, analyse any look that took over his face, “I thought you said that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You didn’t.” he insisted almost immediately, the expression he wore going blank the way it usually did. But now wasn’t the time. “Then...” You took in yet another breath to cut off your words, trying to suppress the urges to sigh, scoff, or the sudden want to raise your voice, “Why?”

To say this day felt long was truly an understatement. Things just kept happening one after the other and still you were left in the dark. No answer as to why things progressed into the situations they had. 

“Y/n, I am not... risking the loss of more time to arguing.” It was like you could visibly see the words he chose to say. The pure caution, decisions careful enough so that he wouldn’t set off the things he could see getting ready in your eyes, “I know that if you go back in there, Mr. White will not... let go. Not unless I place someone in there to stand and watch at all times.”

“All I am telling you is that you are free to go while I... sort things out.” Gustavo somehow made himself stand taller, trying to prove the confidence in which was already heard in his voice and to also prepare for the possibility of you finally reacting in the way that your body had wanted to for hours. 

But despite what he had envisioned playing out, or tried to predict, it was pretty much the opposite. In fact, the only proper reaction to his words was your shoulders deflating, ridding your muscles of its constant worry. 

And then you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffing as you did so, “And what about Jesse... Mr. White? What-- What about them?” you questioned, waiting for the words to settle before you looked back into those other pair of eyes, only to find that the look from earlier had repossessed his face, “It may not seem like it, but I assure you, Y/n.”

“Mr. Pinkman and Mr. White can handle it themselves.”

For the first time throughout the entire day, you felt the want to smile. “Okay then.” You nodded your head once, your grip tightening on your arms as you took a step backwards, “Thank you, uh... Mr. Fring. It seems you have saved me again.”

“Gus. Call me Gus, and please, there is no need to thank me.” Gustavo started up before you could even try to turn in the direction of your car, “It comes under being an employee.”

Your body stilled after about one more steps backwards, your eyes narrowing at the man before you, playfully, “Then how come I haven’t heard you getting protective when someone else makes a mistake?”

Gustavo mirrored the look on your face, “I wasn’t... I wasn’t being... protective?” In his case, however, he wasn’t doing it in a teasing sort of manner, he was just genuinely confused at the comment. “I simply understood the situation and acted accordingly.”

Your arms loosened in your hold until they lowered to your sides once again, “And yet you defended me.” If you were close enough to Gustavo you would probably have started circling him, “Even though I was in the wrong... both times.”

Gustavo unfurrowed his brows, “You weren’t in the wrong just because some man has an incorrect idea of authority… and a very poor concept of time.” His tone was the flattest you had ever heard it. There was no emotion behind it until the words of... slight insult. 

The urge to smile grew stronger that had you pressing your lips together to stop yourself from letting out a laugh. “Still,” Though, after a moment, you managed to compose yourself, “If you hadn’t arrived when you did...”

Gustavo huffed air through his nose, bowing his head a tad before he let it shake a few times. When he looked back up it was clear that he was trying to hold back whatever was wanting to take over his face, but you could see it in his eyes. 

“Go home.”

There was this feeling of giddiness begging to erupt in your chest. It spread a warmth to every part of your body until it was a collective feeling. It caught you of guard, causing the smile you were trying to hide begin to curl at your lips.

So, after a sharp breath and a nod as a thanks, you sort of ducked away, twisting yourself around so that you could make your way towards your car. 

However, the nearer that you got to the vehicle, it seemed there was a thought pushing itself further and further to the centre of your mind. It may have been more of a feeling, as you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to go back to your house.

I mean, sure, being able to take a nice long shower, grab a bite to eat, and completely flop on your bed sounded... Well, pretty nice actually. 

But the next session for a batch was now going to be days away. 

Days from your work and a certain Fring. 

You had completely stilled about a step away from your car. There was a quiet breath that huffed through your nose, one that only you could hear, “You know what, actually.”and then you turned on your heel, the concrete practically scuffing under your shoe. “I’ve worked for you for quite some time now, and yet…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your restaurant.”

The man your eyes managed to focus on seemed to be closer than he was the last time you saw him. A fact that made your brain almost completely miss the words that came out of his mouth. “Well, it’s not an obligation.” 

There was something about the look on his face. Something about the way he pressed his lips together immediately after he finished speaking. He may have assured that the visit wasn’t needed, but... there might have still been a want. 

“What hours is it open?” you asked, the sound of your voice almost echoing through the parking area, even if the noises from the active laundromat were louder. 

Gustavo’s head slightly rose after a moment, one of his brows slightly twitching as he processed your question. And then he cleared his throat, “That would depend on the day.” he informed, readjusting the hands he still held behind his back. 

You hummed in response, letting your gaze fall into the distance as you thought.

Honestly, after the past few hours you could barely remember what part of the week you were in right now. So, instead, you thought back to what a usual week would look like. 

What was the day that was perfectly set between the times you would possibly be able to see Gustavo at work? Right in the middle?

“How about Thursday?” you suggested, now watching as Gustavo began to make his way across the concrete, slightly nodding his head, “Then... Seven to ten, I believe.” 

“All right,” you breathed out, the speed in which your heart beat increased the more the man approached. “One less lunch to plan for the week.” You practically gulped as you reached backwards, fingers patting against the cool metal of the vehicle for a moment until they located the handle. 

Gustavo stilled himself about three steps in front of you, the look on his face signalling that he was thinking about something as he wasn’t making direct eye contact, “Actually... I would suggest to come around dinner time.” 

Just as you were about to tug on the handle, your hand froze, along with pretty much every other part of your body. 

The man was now looking right at you, his voice sort of timid in a way that caught you even more off guard. And apparently himself too. “It’s... more quiet.” He cleared his throat, “Less people around.”

Your arm slowly moved back to your side, releasing the warm handle from any sort of grasp. 

There was a fight going on in your chest. A want to give into the urge of running away like you would’ve done in a situation close to this as a kid. But you weren’t a child anymore, far from it. 

It took a good moment for any sound to be able to roll off of your tongue. And as soon as something eventually had, it was like your lungs remembered how to properly function. “Will you be there?” 

You felt younger. The two of you may have been stood pretty much right in front of the other, yet neither of you could maintain eye contact longer than a few seconds before you collectively had to look away, no matter how confident either one of you tried to seem.

Gustavo cleared his throat, though it sounded like it had barely done anything. “I believe so.” he finally confirmed, and regardless of the fact that his voice was still quiet, there was this tone that took over his words. 

“Well, good...” That giddy feeling returned, even if it had probably never left. “I think I probably would still go if you weren’t there, but... it would be a lot less... fun.”

The man before you let the slightest smile curl at a side of his mouth, “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He sounded more breathy this time, a natural progression from his already quiet voice. But it wasn’t because of nerves, or a reaction of his lungs, which you had initially thought. It was intentional.  

“Not at all.” Your voice in question was more full than his, however, there was this slight whisper to it, as if Gustavo should be the only person allowed to hear it. 

“Then it’s settled,” he began, slightly lowering his head in away that had your back pressing into your car. His normal tone had seeped back through his words like he was back in boss mode. But not quite Gustavo Fring just yet. “How does... eight o’clock sound? Unless you eat earlier?”

Your head shook practically without a second of hesitance. The ability to move your lips was barely thereso you resorted to moving to the side, finally pulling on the handle of your car door until it swung out far enough that you could stand behind it. 

You could see Gustavo raise his eyebrows just the slightest as the door had created a sort of separation, and it had you biting back a grin. “It’s perfect.” you insisted, trying to sound as neutral as possible despite the, possibly, clear ways you felt at that moment. 

And then you lowered yourself into the car, having to slightly shifted backwards a little bit to properly get into the drivers seat before you swung your legs inside.  

Your hand grasped the inside of your door, your fingers making certain that they had a good grip, before your eyes landed on the figure through the glass of the window that hadn’t moved an inch.

And then you smiled. 

“Gus.”

[velvet-vox]

The complete and utter alienation of Tai Lung: Part 2

Very recently I've done a marathon of all the Kung Fu Panda movies after not seeing them for a couple of years, watching one after the other in a single day, and aside from the emotional whiplash of seeing Kung Fu Panda 3 right after 2, it really got me to rethink about the colour theory present in the Kung Fu Panda movies, and more specifically about Tai Lung's.

Now, it's no secret that my first Tai Lung analysis blew up (unexpectedly), and it's still getting new hearts to this very day, and thus it only felt natural to make a sequel that could touch upon things that I didn't talk about originally.

So... let's bring up the colour table again, shall we?

As we have already established, Po is yellow, Shen red, Kai and Oogway green, and Tai Lung blu....... right?

The thing is, this simple association of the colour's meaning doesn't leave much room for an interesting, in depth discussion, that's why I wanted to go a little bit deeper into what I've head cannoned as the individual meaning of each primary colour, so that we can expand upon our current colour dynamics.

Just for reminder:

Cyan+Magenta=Blue

Magenta+Yellow=Red

Yellow+Cyan=Green

Just like we said, Yellow is the colour of Po, our heroes, the good side, (the Chameleon) and justice; whenever Yellow is present on the scene, you know that you can put yourself to ease, as nothing bad is probably going to happen;

I believe this to be the most straightforward primary colour, for obvious reasons, but especially because all the other colours gain their meaning when compared to Yellow (Po, our protagonist), therefore it also has to be the one we understand the most.

Indeed,

Po = Yellow

Now, this is where it starts to get interesting:

....I believe cyan to be Oogway's true colour. I think about it. When we first met Oogway, the only lighting present in the room was the cyan light of the Dragon scroll's pond, there was actually very little green accentuated in that scene, it was all mostly mellowed out by the cyan.

It also makes sense when you consider that Tai Lung and Kai had a relationship with Oogway, while Shen didn't because red isn't made out of cyan.

There's also the whole popular belief that "cyan represents patience" which also fits Oogway, but it's not really important to this discussion, so you can think what you want about it.

So,

Oogway = Cyan

Magenta... is particular.

Particular in the sense that it's extremely rare in both the movies and outside material.

Of magenta/purple things that come to mind we have Crane and Tai Lung's clothing, Shen's mother, Feng Huang related things, that weird sexual panda from the third movie... and probably some more.

As you can see, magenta is incredibly hard to pinpoint its meaning due to how infrequently it's used, which makes sense: Magenta and purple have ties to royalty in both China and other countries around the world; it's a sacred colour, so it has to be used sparingly, and I don't think it was ever intended by the writers for a meaning to be extrapolated from it.

....

Yet I tried to anyway.

Now, let it be known that I'm planning to make a post talking about Po's weird relationship birds, as it feels like whenever a bird is on screen the conflict is already more personal for Po.

For now... you could argue that magenta means danger, since it's the closest colour to purple aka yellow's opposite, and both Shen and Tai Lung are a direct threat to Po while Kai is treated as a joke for the entirety of the final movie, but I doubt bad writing has any deeper meaning.

I actually wanted to attribute magenta the meaning of closeness. For me, it was the easiest way to justify his rarity: it can't be Shifu's colour because he lost relevance after the first movie, and no other character is closely associated with it, so it makes sense for it to just be a colour that's taken for granted by Po since his adopted dad shares those tones.

However, I think I came up with a much more interesting idea: it's the colour of pride and approval, as Tai Lung and Shen both sought the approval of their parents to satisfy their ego, while Kai wasn't seeking anybody's approval for his evil actions.

Ultimately, magenta, much like in the movies, is irrelevant to the narrative, so I'm going to ignore it, but for now,

Approval = Magenta

Finally, (a worthy opponent) with all that out of the way, let's talk about everybody's favourite snow leopard!

And the first thing to mention, is the gold.

The Gold.

The GOLD.

It's everywhere. Whenever you look at him, Tai Lung is always chasing the gold, he was welcomed by the gold when he had no one by his side, and said gold was always what he dreamt about when he was in jail, he basked in the gold his entire life, and when that gold rejected him, he had nothing left in his life to cling onto because his entire life was dependent by that gold.

While Shen and Kai have Yellow as part of their secondary colour by nature, Tai Lung doesn't, yet he wants to. But that yellow keeps rejecting him and putting an end to his actions;

When Tai Lung's first rampage is interrupted, the (chi) body block technique that Oogway uses to stop him is yellow; when Po kills him at the end of the movie, the after wave of the Wuxi finger is, again, yellow; TAI LUNG'S EYES ARE YELLOW. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT'S ALWAYS ON HIS MIND.

... And that makes all the similarities that he shares with Tigress kind of sad (For both).

Like, I already knew that Tigress and Tai Lung were similar and meant to be foil, but it's only after my most recent rewatch the underlying pain and tragedy present in their rivalry really hit me.

If Tigre's pupils weren't red, she would have easily turned out as the next Tai Lung.

And Tai Lung upon seeing how similar he is to Tigress, probably thinks "This is what Shifu replaced me with. A cheap knock-off copy of the real deal".

It hurts him deeply, because it reminds him of how little Shifu really cared for him, despite not being true, and it scares Tigress, who's nervous for their entire interaction, due to now finally seeing Tai Lung in the flesh and not as just some story she overheard.

Tragically, once Tai Lung finally manages to get his paws on the Dragon scroll (yellow), it doesn't fix anything for him, instead, it sends him spiralling one last time before Po can finally put him out of his misery.

And with that, Tai Lung goes out of his miserable existence, only finding peace in the afterlife, and not in death.

<<<<Previous part

The horrifying humanity of Lord Shen

[evergreenalice]

alright, I'm going to rant, because a very persistent myth really annoys me

the Zelda timeline DOES exist

most of the games were made to be prequels or sequels

AoL is a very obvious sequel, it's meant to be the same Link, he got two of the pieces of the triforce, and he then goes off to collect it

ALttP was meant to show Hyrule before the decline we hear about in LoZ

Link's Awakening seems to be a sequel to ALttP, as you fight the memory of Aghanim, and already know a Zelda

OoT was meant to be a prequel to ALttP based on the prologue (it doesn't perfectly line up or anything, there were retcons, but I'm not denying retcons), it also shows us a world with Hylians, which ALttP isn't, in ALttP the Hylians are considered long gone, the people of that time just being called humans who are descended of Hylians, essentially showing us a more magical time, a mythical time in a sense

MM is a direct sequel to OoT

the Oracle games are more fuzzy, they seem to be a prequel to LA based on a few details, though they don't work perfectly as a sequel to ALttP, it's not super hard to rectify, by just saying "there's more than one Zelda" hardly the first example of it, still a bit odd, but I do think this was caused perhaps by poor communication, and Capcom wanting to make a prequel, without realizing LA was already a sequel? If so, obviously a mistake here, but I don't deny that there are mistakes

FS was stated by Eiji Aonuma to be the earliest game at that time, I never played this game, and I think the story is barely there, so, I assume they did this, purely because the main villain isn't Ganon?

WW, obvious direct sequel, the prologue tells you the story of OoT, obviously adult timeline seeing as it mentions the hero of time disappearing

FSA, this is a fuck up, this was in my opinion definitely written to be a direct sequel to Four Swords, but there are a few issues with that, so they moved it, one of the only examples of the timeline changing since the start of the timeline

MC was once again meant to be the earliest game, takes place before FS since you literally make the four sword and learn Vaati's origin

TP, once again just a direct sequel, Ganondorf is sentenced to death for the crimes that Link revealed when he returned from the future, this Link is also very heavily implied to be a direct descendant of OoT Link hence why he already has the triforce of courage, it passed down through blood, which does seem to be something it can do.

PH, you literally play as WW Link

ST, you play in New Hyrule many years after PH

SS, the new earliest game in the series, meant to explain why it's so so cyclical, obvious prequel to everything that came before

ALBW, obvious sequel to ALTTP

TFH, not much story really, so they just put after the game with pretty much the same art style, I also think Link is implied to already be a hero, so, presumably, yeah, this is the same Link after he saves Hyrule

BoTW and ToTK are meant to take place far in the future, and still don't have an accepted timeline placement, so I will not touch on that

but my point is simply, a Zelda timeline has existed since AoL

is it perfect? Fuck no

is it messy sometimes? Yes

are there sometimes retcons? Yeah

is it meaningless and entirely post hoc? No, not at all

you don't need to like it, that's perfectly fine, but so many people act superior for ignoring the blatant truth that, yes, these games fit together

they can all be enjoyed separately, but, they do fit together, and some people like that, and that's fine.

[causeitsagame]

UNTITLED ANGST PROMPTFIC THE THIRD (out of four, I am guessing)?

Sequel to this and this, and will make zero sense without them.

-----

"So as I have said, all this time," Peko quietly finished, "Fuyuhiko has not given up our location."

Hajime's heartbeat thudded irregularly in his chest. It was exactly two months later, and he'd demanded the long-promised explanation even before anyone could eat.

Since they'd left the islands, he'd settled on one awful outcome as the most likely path. Fuyuhiko had promised to distract their would-be captors; he'd do anything to protect the knowledge he held; he'd said a rescue would be pointless after two months. One week after fleeing, a horrifying potential explanation for all of that had erupted into Hajime, unbidden: a suicide pill.

He spent the next weeks trying to think of absolutely anything besides that worst-case scenario. Over and over, he'd failed. When the day finally arrived, he'd grabbed Peko early as possible, wanting to collapse that quantum state of "dead" and "alive" into some known truth, whatever it was.

Never had he considered something even darker than Fuyuhiko offering himself up to die.

Hajime's jaw hung open at Peko's explanation, useless. No words came. It felt like his throat was swelling shut.

"And you did not stop him?" Sonia demanded, teary-eyed.

"Stop him?" Peko's eyes were just as glossy. "It was his idea. His choice to make. His decision that saved all of us."

Kazuichi looked lost, like some young child. "You both lied to me. I wouldn't… I wouldn't have sent the plane."

Peko's gaze drifted slowly downward. "It was the only way. He knew that, and so did I. If any of you pretend otherwise, you're diminishing his choice and his sacrifice. I won't allow you to dishonor him like that."

"Fuck that," Hajime spat. His blood surged hot as nightmarish memories crowded his mind. He remembered exactly what it had been like to be slowly sanded away to fit inside someone else. "And fuck you."

Peko looked back up and met his gaze with bloodshot, hollow eyes.

Hajime regretted the words as soon as they clawed out of him, but he swallowed hard and said nothing.

For a while, there was silence. A measured voice eventually broke it. "Ultimately, this was Fuyuhiko's decision. Peko is not his keeper. This has been a heavy burden for her to bear, I'm sure." The Imposter's face was solemn and determined. "But now, the rest of us can help. Hajime, it's fortunate that you negotiated that two month timeline. We'll put it to good use, now."

Sonia nodded slowly and lifted a shaking hand to her chest. "I'll start listening for any directions we might pursue. Kazuichi, can you please work on enhancing the ship's surveillance?"

He nodded, still bewildered and heartbroken over how he'd been used months earlier.

Inhaling, Sonia turned. "Ibuki, when I begin listening to those streams, will you help me work through the static?"

Ibuki looked up from where she gnawed on her thumbnail and nodded.

With clearly feigned confidence, Sonia forced a smile onto her face. "Then everyone, let us all do our very best with all of the tasks before us. Teruteru, I know you will have a wonderful meal for us to start our day. Let us do that first, and then get to work."

In silent unison, nearly everyone filtered out of the meeting room on the ship they'd adopted as their new home. The remaining duo took a while to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Hajime eventually mumbled.

"Perhaps I should have spoken up earlier." Peko gripped her wrist. "I am supposed to be making my own decisions, after all." After a heavy pause, she looked toward him. "You can't go."

Hajime's jaw set. "I have to."

"You were the main factor behind his decision. If we all only faced death, he might not have left. Simple death probably isn't worth these extreme measures."

It felt like the room's shadows abruptly deepened. For an instant, Hajime was back across the Pacific, feeling himself be stripped away. "So, if not for me, Fuyuhiko wouldn't have…"

"No. I really don't think so." Peko's gaze softened with understanding. "I know you want to help. But it's like he said, months ago: if you get captured, everything he's gone through will have been for nothing."

"But… I won't, they won't get me. But I'll get him."

"What do you think he'd do if you said that to him?"

Hajime tried imagining that, and could only picture soul-deep betrayal if he even made the attempt. "I just…" Biting his lip, he looked toward a porthole. Through it, he could see the cliff face that their ship was anchored along, helping to hide it in this small, tucked-away bay. "It's my fault. Something worse than death, and it's my fault."

"We'll get him back."

Hajime felt the ship tilt under his feet. They'd gotten used to living on the waves, but he was suddenly dizzy as it moved. He again remembered the unspeakable claustrophobia of feeling like his entire existence was closing in, followed by endless, useless freedom after that existence shattered. Will we?

It took another sixteen days until the question was answered. C O L L E C T E D, came each letter with agonizing slowness. The obscure data route was undetectable, but the speed meant that they hadn't been able to update everyone else on their progress.

Hajime's heart leapt as he saw Peko's transmission. Finding Fuyuhiko meant he'd been alive to find. And even better, she wouldn't have sent that until she, the Imposter, and their target were safely back on the helicopter they'd acquired. (From an abandoned Canadian base along the coast, and modified to remove absolutely all tracking elements.) "Mikan, get the infirmary ready."

The rest of the group was waiting behind him, unable to see the small communications screen. "For everyone?" Mikan risked asking in a tiny, tremulous voice. "Or did the mission… did things not go…?"

Hajime turned, grinning like he'd almost forgotten how to do. "For everyone."

Relief ran through them in a messy, joyous surge. They allowed themselves a few rounds of hugs before Mikan demanded to be let through, with the sort of confidence that only came to her for a patient's sake. Hajime's own relief practically felt like it had hollowed him out, and his hands shook as he moved to follow her there.

As the two of them worked on preparing the small infirmary, Hajime's mind skittered away from considering what state Fuyuhiko would be in when he arrived. His mind didn't allow him to view today as anything but amazing, and so every darker thought that piped up was quickly squelched. "He might hate how cold it is, up here," Hajime cheerfully said as he took inventory of their medical supplies. "Of course, he complained about how hot the islands could be."

"He might like it more here," Mikan agreed with a bright nod. The infirmary was on the other side of the ship, and its portholes looked out over water and onto the evergreen forest beyond. It might be Canada out there, or might be Alaska, but there were no still-living towns for a hundred miles in either direction. Unless someone knew exactly where to look, the Remnants were undetectable. There was food out there, too: berries and fish and meat and various other things that only Teruteru and Hajime could name.

It didn't feel like a home, but it had been okay. Maybe it would feel like home when all of them were together, again.

The two of them needn't have rushed. The helicopter had a long path to fly, and needed a stopover at an abandoned base in the Aleutians to refuel. Slow letters appeared again as the next dawn touched the trees: A L M O S T T H E R E.

"Stay in the infirmary!" Hajime ordered Mikan as he ran for the landing pad at the back of the boat. "I'll bring him in!"

The message had taken long enough to arrive that he could see the approaching helicopter when he ran outside. Hajime threw an arm halfway over his eyes to block the whipping gusts from its blades, but unlike the rest of their group, he kept walking forward against the wind. He could see the Imposter at the controls; Peko must be at the back of the craft with Fuyuhiko.

He's here, Hajime thought, and felt his eyes swim with sudden tears. We got him.

When he could finally slam the helicopter's door open and see inside, Hajime's heart twisted with mingled joy and fear. Yes, Peko was in the back of the aircraft, tenderly holding a slender figure wrapped in a blanket, but that figure was absolutely still. It took Hajime a moment to process that Peko's expression would look very different if she were holding a corpse, and he forced himself foward.

His heart twisted again; this time, only with agony.

Fuyuhiko's exposed skin was a mass of overlapping bruises and cuts, new and old and poorly healed. The scar over his bad eye had been further mutilated; there was probably no going without an eyepatch, now. And beneath everything, his skin was sallow and dry, with cavernous hollows under his eye sockets and cheekbones. One arm extended out of the blanket, and its wrist was awkwardly, painfully prominent. Fuyuhiko had never had weight to lose, but they'd stolen it from him, anyway.

Hajime looked at all that, and at the ragged red tips to all of Fuyuhiko's fingers, and felt a crimson wash pass over his vision. Focus on him, he thought, and balled his fists until they hurt. Think about them later. "I'll get him to the infirmary."

"Careful," Peko whispered. Her cheeks were marked with tear streaks, some fresh.

Hajime's arms shook as he slowly picked up Fuyuhiko. Despite his care, Fuyuhiko hissed as soon as his torso twisted even a bit. Probably broken ribs, Hajime thought, and began cataloguing the injuries as he walked forward. Limited movement prescribed for that. Significant dehydration; IV fluids. And…

The group split as he approached. Gasps and soft cries welcomed Fuyuhiko back to them, but everyone had more sense than to make any noise louder than a whisper. If he hadn't needed to limit the jostling that Fuyuhiko's ribs received, Hajime's arms would have shook by the time he stepped back into the ship's interior.

As he walked into the infirmary, Hajime whispered, "We got him."

Mikan's eyes filled with tears, and she moved for her supplies.

Fuyuhiko still hadn't come to, but faint groans and uncharacteristic whimpers suggested that consciousness was just below the surface. At one of those soft, vulnerable sounds, Hajime's heart seized anew. He couldn't help but kneel next to Fuyuhiko's shoulder, so their faces were close. "Hey. It's okay. You're safe."

That seemed to work, at least a little, so Hajime tried again. "It's okay. You're back with us. I'm right here and I'm going to help you. It's okay."

Fuyuhiko's good eye slit open. His gaze roamed slowly around the infirmary and eventually settled on Hajime, though he seemed to have trouble focusing. "Where's Peko?" The question came out as a cracked, tired sigh.

"We'll get her," Hajime promised, and nodded to Mikan. She nodded back and darted out of the infirmary. If Peko had been the one to actually carry Fuyuhiko to safety, he could only imagine what a relief she must be to see. They should have thought of that and insisted that she come along right away, despite the infirmary's tight quarters.

Fuyuhiko tried to run his gaze around the infirmary, again, but even that appeared to exhaust him. "Who're you?"

Hajime's heart skipped a beat. The optimism he'd used to brick off Peko's explanation of Fuyuhiko's horrifying plan began to develop thick cracks. "It's Hajime. Remember me?"

Fuyuhiko stared back at him, still unable to focus his vision. "You…"

Hajime barely kept himself from grabbing Fuyuhiko's hand to try to encourage him. Mikan hadn't bandaged the many, many wounds there, yet. "Yeah. Me."

"You must be all sorts of fucked-up," Fuyuhiko managed. "Looking at you feels like a whole burnt-out library."

Hajime's arms felt to weigh a ton apiece, suddenly. They hung heavy.

For the first time, Fuyuhiko's eye managed to focus, but he wasn't looking at Hajime. The relief and trust he'd hoped to see directed at him were finally there, but aimed only for the woman walking through the infirmary door. "So. What's the situation?"

"You're safe, young master," Peko whispered.

Hajime shook his head. Young master? He'd gotten her to stop saying that soon after waking up.

Fuyuhiko studied Hajime as critically as his barely-there energy stores would allow. "You mind?"

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be as bad as Peko had described. It couldn't be that bad, not really. Not when he was back and alive. "Mind?" Hajime dumbly echoed.

"Private conversation."

"I. Sure. Okay." Numb, Hajime stood and stepped past Peko. She brushed down his arm with quick sympathy, but then stepped in to take the spot he'd vacated at Fuyuhiko's bedside.

Perhaps Peko didn't realize that he could still hear from there, or perhaps she didn't care. Maybe she even wanted him to hear. "Young master, these are the people I mentioned. You can trust them all."

"…You sure about that?"

"Yes. I am."

"'Cause I must've burned them out for a reason."

"You did. You were protecting them all, because you care very much. You even went back to memories of meeting them, it appears. Doing so much was very." Peko's calm wobbled momentarily, as did her voice. "Very brave."

"I get that. But." Fuyuhiko took a long pause. "I didn't burn out a chunk of stuff that was just about me. That way, I'd still know what year it was, and shit like that."

"That makes sense."

Fuyuhiko took a longer pause. "So I remember what I did."

Peko was silent for a while, in return. "Things are different, now. Very different."

"If these people know me… did they do that kind of shit, too?"

More silence. "Things are different, now."

"What about the guy who just left?"

Holding his breath, Hajime flattened himself more against the wall, like they'd somehow notice him eavesdropping.

"Hajime? What do you mean?"

"I look at you, and I know I burned out a lot of big memories starting in high school. I looked at that fat guy, and I burned out anything big, too. But that guy just now… everything. I burned out every goddamn thing I know about him. Why?"

Hajime's knees weakened, and he barely kept himself from collapsing where he stood. It took him a second to realize that Mikan, unable to hear the quiet conversation inside the room, was asking if he was all right. He ignored her.

"He was who you were most concerned about. You found it absolutely unacceptable for him to be at any risk of capture."

"He's who got me all fucked up, then? That guy?"

"Young master, that's not… the situation is very complicated. It is not Hajime's fault."

"Sounds like it is. Heh." The soft noise earned a hiss of pain.

That, Mikan was able to hear. With an apologetic look toward Hajime, she murmured something about needing to interrupt them and walked into the infirmary.

After a moment, Hajime walked away with slow, heavy steps, again feeling like his existence had been shattered.

His mind spiraled, veering between Fuyuhiko's horrific injuries, those dismissive words, and his own memories of existence burning away. With each such cycle, he spiraled tighter and lower, and everything began to overlap into a screaming, endless chorus. Soon, the doctors who'd stolen his own memories were the faces torturing Fuyuhiko, and they thanked Hajime for showing them the way.

Hajime started running. He barely made it back outside and to the ship's railing before he doubled over and coughed up a stream of bile. A large, strong hand gripped one shoulder while a metal one gripped the other, and both men asked if Hajime was all right.

"No," Hajime said dully, staring into the distance. He wasn't.

Because Fuyuhiko was right. And he'd been right, when he said it to Peko.

This was his fault.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Okay.”

You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.

“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.

“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”

Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.

You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.

“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.

You gave chase.

“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”

You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.

“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”

You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.

“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”

He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.

“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”  

You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.

“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”

You adjusted your stance and waited.

“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”

Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.

It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.

You gave a small sigh.

“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”

Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”

He waited.

You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.

Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.

“What are these?”

Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”

“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.

“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”

“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”

“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”

You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”

Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.

“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”

“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.

“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”

“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”

“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.

You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.

He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”

“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.

He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.

“Speaking of lasting constructions…”

He eyed you and brought the screens back up.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.

His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.

-

You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.

You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.

A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry. 

Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?

Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?

Would you not make it to the bedroom?

Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?

Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.

Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.

He was the picture of dichotomy.

From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.

From his stance, he could not be knocked down.

From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.

From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.

All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.

You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.

He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”

“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.

“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.

“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”

You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.

He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.

He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.

It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.

It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.

It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.

When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.

You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”

He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.

His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.

You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.

“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”

He watched you circle him.

You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”

You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.

“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.

You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.

“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.

You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.

You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”

You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.

There was the language.

You told him that he was going to participate regardless.

There was the insinuation.

As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.

There was the challenge.

Was he going to be passive?

In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.

Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.

He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.

It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.

With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.

It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.

“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

“Show me, love.”

You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.

He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.

You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.

He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.

You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.

You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.

You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.

In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.

His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.

The mating press.

You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.

The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:

This was going to get you pregnant.

A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.

“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”

He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.

Like you’d never be like this again.

Like something monumental was about to shift.

He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.

Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.

Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.

You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.

“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.

He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.

It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.

He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.

Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.

He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.

He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.

You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.

You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you.  Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.

You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.

“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.

“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.

How was that possible? 

He hadn't thrusted even once. 

He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.

Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.

Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time. 

He had showed all the signs. 

That's why he'd been anxious at the door. 

That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you. 

That’s why he had been going so slow.

It wasn’t just to mark the occasion. 

It wasn't because he feared his ferality.

It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.

As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant. 

It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.

He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way. 

An excited noise hummed in your throat.

He saw your glee and wilted against it.

“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”

“No.” He bit back.

“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.

You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.

“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”

He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.

You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”

He frowned deeply.

You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”

“Please.”

“I do.” You pressed.

“Y/N.”

“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.

He ducked his head as much as he could.

You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”

He grumbled something.

“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.

“It doesn’t…” He ground out.

“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”

He relented the smallest bit.

“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”

“I wanted us together.”

“We can try… Has waiting helped?”

His grimace said not at all.

You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.

His eyes closed, hopeless.

“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.

He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.

“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.

Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.

“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.

He moaned your name.

“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.

“I’m going to…!” He panted.

“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.

He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking  lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.

He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.

You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.

He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.

You smiled, ever ready for him.

His lids fell in a form of annoyance.

“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”

You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed. 

His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.

“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.

You were finally stuffed with a potent load.

That chance of getting pregnant now existed.

You were both aiming to make it assured.

Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.

That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.  

A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.

Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.

You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”

He sucked hard and you spasmed.

“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.

It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.

His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.

It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.

Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.

“What was that!? You ate it?!”

He was the portrait of a captured criminal.

His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”

He gave a pitiful chirp.

You swatted him with the wetted cloth.

He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.

“Donatello!”

“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”

“So you suck the potential out of me?!”

“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”

Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”

“You act as though I insinuated such!”  

“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.

He matched you.

You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.

You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.

Donnie was the first to move.

“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.

You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.

He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range. 

“It's okay…” 

He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.

You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.

“Does that consumption offend you as well?”

You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”

He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.

You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”

His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.

“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…” 

His body went a certain slack.

“We done for tonight…?”

He didn’t move as far as you could tell.

“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”

His lip twitched.

“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You pressed him.

“Look down.”

Your gaze plummeted southward on contact. 

All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.

You heard a puff of laughter.

Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.

“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”

He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze. 

He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.

He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”

You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.

It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted. 

The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”

“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.

“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.

“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”

You soothed his glans with a stroke.

They undulated under your grip, starving.

“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.

“I can't predict when it'll go down.”

“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.

His expression flattened out a bit. 

“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”

He flushed at how eager you were.

“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.

“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious. 

You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.

“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.

“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”

You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.

“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.

Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”

You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.

-

You were slow in opening the bathroom door.

It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.

Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.

One door led to another.

You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.

This was the transition point.

You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.

It was another tangible omen.

It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.

The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.

One dark red drip at a time.

You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.

You’d left him sitting on the couch.

What had found him first?

The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?

You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.

You reached one another, but didn’t connect.

You had to address it.

You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.

“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.

It would rob the words of their strength.

Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.

You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.

Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.

Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.   

Except today it reset to one.

“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.

You both met each other’s eyes in time.

You knew the truth then.

You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle. 

These were only words.

It was the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

Not yet. 

1.73%.

💜 NEXT 💜

My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[greatqueenanna]

Frozen 3 - What We Know So Far - 2023

(NOTE: Image above is not concept art for F3. It is from F2.)

I wanted to do an overview post of everything we've learned this year about F3. I want to keep track of all news related to this project so that we can avoid misunderstandings and fan theories overrunning the films' development, like with what happened with F1 and F2.

To note, from now on I'm pretty much combining F3 and F4 (or F3 part 2) as a single project until we learn more about them. They are pretty much confirmed to be the same story anyway, so it makes sense to just put them together. Thus, if you want to know about F4 on my blog, it will be under the #frozen 3 news tag that I feature on my page.

I want to give shout outs to @ericmicael, @frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers, @frozensnetwork, and @bigfrozenfan for actually being the ones to provide some the sources below. I don't want to take all the credit for finding this info.

If any more info drops in December, or I discover more news released in 2023 in general, I will update this post.

Overview of What We Know

The idea of Frozen 3 came from Marc Smith, the Story Director of Frozen 2, and the story is so large that it will be separated into two films. There is no official release date, or info regarding how the two films will be released.

Jennifer Lee is overseeing the project and keeping up with it, but is not writing or directing as of 2023. This may change later on, however as of now, Lee is not behind the creative process.

It is currently unknown if Chris Buck will return as director, and there is no news on who is directing or writing the films, other than Marc Smith coming up with the initial idea.

Idina Menzel and Josh Gad have officially announced their involvement. However, Kristen Bell and Jonathan Groff have not officially announced their returns. It is sort of obvious that they will return, especially with Bell saying that they are all ready to return, but just wanted to establish that they have not publicly stated this yet since the announcement. As for other cast members, no one has stated yet that they will return as of 2023.

Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Bobby Lopez are returning to write the songs, and have also confirmed that the story will be two films.

Jennifer Lee continued to push that no other entry other than the main films are canon to the newest project. Thus, the Frozen Podcast that was announced alongside F3 and misrepresented as a lead up to F3, is not considered canon.

There is very little known about the story, however, it may be about Elsa and Anna being very busy in their new roles. There is also some hints about Elsa's powers possibly growing.

More detailed news with sources below the read more.

---

As a quick shout out, in the year 2022, Kristen Bell had actually hinted at Frozen 3. At the time, this was considered a joke since Kristen Bell loves to push for more Frozen sequels (and honestly, it probably still is a very coincidental joke haha), however now that we know that F3 was possibly in development at this time, this may of been the first official hint at F3 that we ever received.

"I would like to officially announce, with zero authority, Frozen 3. I know Idina recently said she would do it. And I feel like if we're all in, what are we waiting for?" -- Kristen Bell, Voice of Anna

---

The first bit of information we received about F3 in 2023 was the announcement itself. In early February, Frozen 3 was announced to be in development along side Toy Story 5 and Zootopia 2.

“Today I’m so pleased to announce that we have sequels in the works from our animation studios to some of our most popular franchises, Toy Story, Frozen and Zootopia. We’ll have more to share about these productions soon, but this is a great example of how we’re leaning into our unrivaled brands and franchises.” -- Bob Iger, Disney CEO

---

At the same time, Kristen Anderson-Lopez further confirmed this, indirectly announcing that the Lopezes would return to write the songs for the new film.

---

On the same day, Josh Gad confirmed (inserting link in case video doesn't load) that he was ready to return to the film.

---

In June, we received new information about the film in regards to Jennifer Lee's involvement. As of 2023, Jennifer Lee is only overseeing the project, but not writing or directing it. In this announcement, (which is actually bit misleading since, as said, Jennifer Lee is still returning to the project, just not fully as writer/director) Lee hinted that someone else came up with the idea of Frozen 3, and it had become their project. This led to many fans assuming that this new person was the new director/writer.

“I can’t say where we are. All our stories are driven by the artists in the studio. Where we’re going with Frozen did not come from me, it came from an incredible person. That’s a new piece, I’ve told no one. And I’ve been blown away by it and I’m just having a blast with that team.” -- Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

In the same month, Idina Menzel confirmed her return as Elsa. However, she stated that she didn't know too much about the project itself and said that they only teased her about it.

“I don’t know a lot. To be completely honest, they teased it to us, and I have no idea. They don’t show you a script. They don’t show you anything. All I know is, yeah we are gonna make one, and that’s it. So, I’m like, ‘Cool! I will be able to pay my bills." --Idina Menzel, Voice of Elsa

---

A Month later, Idina continued to drop small tidbits of what she knows (barely anything apparently haha) about F3 in another interview with This Morning.

"Yes...it's happening I was told, I mean you know nothing's been signed but I'm very excited if it is happening- I swear to you I'm not being elusive...I haven't seen a script." --Idina Menzel, Voice of Elsa

---

Later in October, we got more info about the film's creative team and how involved Jennifer Lee actually is on the project. Lee announced that the incredible person who came up with the idea of F3 was Marc Smith, Director of story for F2. She also stated that she was blown away by the progress on the project.

“Every morning last week they carved out space for me to work with the creative team on it, and I am blown away and I am so excited. I don’t know what I’m doing on it yet — I’m not doing nothing — except doing what I do now, which is we work on every project as as team and I’m in there with creative. But with ‘Frozen,’ just a little bit more. Our philosophy is this, and it won’t change: If there is more story to tell, the filmmakers have to drive it. And I’ll say with ‘Frozen,’ Marc Smith, who was our director of story on ‘Frozen 2,’ came with an incredible idea for more ‘Frozen,’ and it’s worth it." -- Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

Jennifer Lee later confirmed this information again in another interview within the same month, and also pushed that the Frozen Podcast: Forces of Nature, is not canon the the newest project.

The idea for Frozen 3, she continues, came from Marc Smith, head of story on Frozen II. “Growing it out from there feels right because it’s coming with vision, it’s coming with purpose." Lee can't say much about what the sequel entails, but when asked if fans should be paying close attention to the current Frozen story being told on the Forces of Nature podcast series, she's hesitant to consider the audio offering canon. In my head, the films will always stay canon. Anything done outside of that, we give them permission to have their own identity. They may not be canon. I still encourage it because I think it’s fun to explore. But don’t hold us to anything except what we put in those features. That’s just me. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But I also want to say I love that other artists get inspired, and I love the idea of the Frozen story.” -- Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

The biggest shock that shook the entire fandom and internet culture, was when Bob Iger dropped the reveal that a Frozen 4 was also in the works at the studio in November.

‘Frozen 3’ is in the works, and there might be a ‘Frozen 4’ in the works too. But I don’t have much to say about those films right now. Jenn Lee, who created the original ‘Frozen’ and ‘Frozen 2,’ is hard at work with her team at Disney animation on not one but actually two stories.” -- Bob Iger, Disney CEO

---

Along side the above announcement, Kristen Anderson-Lopez also confirmed the fourth film.

---

Later on in the same month, Jennifer Lee gave more back ground on the idea of two films, and indirectly confirmed that the films would be one story told across two installments.

"We're really excited about where they're going, and we just have a lot of story to tell with that direction we're going in. So, I think, in my head, there may be enough for two in that story. But I'm really, really loving working with the team and where they're going." --Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

In November as well, This tweet (linking here just in case the video below doesn't work) started to pick up steam and was posted by a verified account - however, it is still iffy on whether or not this info was for F3 or was just taken from an interview about F2 and repurposed to be about F3. If it is genuine, then Jennifer Lee hints here that the story will possibly involve Elsa's powers growing.

"I will tell you what I think philosophically, that isn't telling you what is in [Frozen 3]. I think Anna and Elsa's journey is only continuing. It was warned by the Trolls that that Elsa's powers would only grow. So, that's all I will say." --Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

In December, Jennifer Lee did another interview with Heart where she actually revealed a tiny bit more about Frozen 3's story. She goes on to say that Elsa and Anna will be very busy in the next project.

“Well they are coming back. Big Iger himself leaked it, that we got so much story that we’re working on now, it looks like it’s gonna be two films. Cause it’s so big where they’re going next. And Elsa’s got a lot to do, so, and I can’t give anything away to say what’s gonna happen but Anna as well. And Anna’s you know, I feel very connected to her, the ordinary hero, I don’t have any magic. But I’m really excited. The amazing thing to me is always how these two sisters as we start looking at their journey, they keep surprising us and telling us, showing us what they’re capable of. So I’m definitely excited about where we’re going.” So does Elsa find love? “I can’t give anything away, I can’t tell you anything. All I want to say is that anyone who thinks they’ve heard anything they are not true, there’s no leak, nothing has left our vaulted story room and the only leak is what Bob Iger leaked himself.” --Jennifer Lee, Disney Animation Studios Chief Creative Officer

---

[rudnitskaia]

I'll probably regret this note later, but I need to sort my thoughts on this somehow, so let it be. It's not a review, not a feedback, it’s just a skein of thoughts.

Let me start from afar: I wasn't going to watch Joker: Folie à Deux after all the scathing reviews I've seen. But then I accidentally found out that Sylvain Chomet took part in the creation of the credits for it, and I decided: to hell with it, at least for the sake of the credits, but I have to see it. I'll watch the first part and then the sequel in a row.

And now I'm in such contradictory feelings that it's hard to describe.

Don't get me wrong: this is a really bad movie. Everything about it is broken beyond repair: the genre, the plot, the pace of the narrative, the dialogues, the characters’ development arcs. Everything that could be screwed up is screwed up…

…on purpose.

The team that made the first movie couldn't have made its sequel so exceptionally bad by accident. It's really pure sabotage.

And from that point of view, this picture is genius. Joker: Folie à Deux is the bloody Taras Bulba of the cinema world. “I gave you life, I will also kill you!” Todd Phillips says from the screen with every misplaced song, every drawn-out scene, every gratuitous feint. I know of only two precedents of this sort, and both are from the world of literature, not cinema. Burgess, who considered and told everyone that A Clockwork Orange is unworthy of attention and even dangerous to read, and Conan Doyle, who hated Sherlock Holmes so much that he tried to kill Sherlock, but had to resurrect him anyway to meet the public's desires.

Joker: Folie à Deux truly fell victim to its creator's hatred of both the character and the industry that demands to put a comma, or even never-ending ellipses, to the place where a period is unquestionably placed. I can only applaud Phillips’ courage to bring this statement to the screens so unashamedly explicitly.

What I can't neither understand, nor justify, on the other hand, is Phillips' apparent inability to draw the line between fiction and reality. To treat a character as a real-living person is sacrilege. A fictional character, no matter how vivid and solid this character is, is still a character who is meant to tell a story, to be a tool, a prism through which the viewer or reader perceives certain events. For some unknown reason, Phillips hates his character, or, to be more precise, his actions, as if he was a real person. And this statement he conveys through the story of Arthur Fleck in the second part in full. Phillips literally forces his character to become pathetic, so that God forbid anyone to have pity for him or desire to empathize and sympathize with him, forces the character to personally debunk the image he himself created, as if telling us from the screen: “Wake up, idiots, this is not the way it fucking happens”.

Thanks for the revelation, bro, we're aware. We're watching a movie. A fictional story about fictional people.

I can kind of understand that level of judgement from people who’re not involved into creating any fictional stories, at least it’s explainable, but from a person who is a long-term director himself? Never. That's a level of judgement like "videogames make people violent".

I'm fully convinced that if there was to be a second part of Joker, it shouldn't have been about him. Arthur Fleck's story didn't need a continuation, at least not a direct one. But the world Phillips created in the first movie still had plenty of material to explore, and Harleen Quinzel's character could have mediated that journey for us. She is a fan of a serial killer (there is a wagonload of such people in reality), a person living in illusions, a victim of a fake idol. You want a musical? Let it be. In her head. Like that very episode of Scrubs, you know which I mean. But it had to be her story. Not Joker’s/Arthur’s story. Not a love story, not at all — or rather, not a story about the romantic kind of love that Phillips mocks and makes fun of for the entire sequel. It must have been a story of love that was fanatical, sick, false a priori, doomed to shatter in the end. In this story, Joker was needed purely in the background, not as a real character, but as an image in fantasies, and then Harleen, blinded by his fame she extols over herself or anything in her dull unremarkable reality, would’ve been our guide to the world that was changed by Joker’s unintentional influence, and I think you yourself are quite capable of realizing how many subjects could’ve been explored in interesting, multifaceted ways from such a delicious starting point. Not to mention the fact that it's just one variant of the starting point, because the main character could have been someone other than Harleen, and the time period relative to the events of the original could’ve been different... well, you got it, there was plenty of material to explore and develop.

And that's a damn shame it wasn’t.

One thing I know for sure is that I will not forget this movie. It's a fascinating specimen that I'll put in my personal mental cabinet of curiosities for two reasons. Adoration for how filigree bad it is — it takes courage, ingenuity, and a lot of resilience to do so, for any creator; and frustration over the fact that a really existing potential that could’ve been perfectly brought into existence in talented hands was thrown into the trashcan because of the creator's mere lack of understanding (which is doubly ironic in the context of the movie I’m talking about) of where the line between fiction and reality lies.

[thefirstknife]

Do we know what happened between the end of D1 and the start of D2/Red War, or what the setup for red war was? I didn’t start playing until Beyond Light, and despite digging around I know I’m missing something.

There genuinely was not much setup at all, nope!

D1 ended with Rise of Iron which does not have any connection to the Red War. The jump between the games was really sharp and D2, while treated as a direct sequel, didn't really connect to much of what D1 ended on. It was actually something that pissed off a lot of people (and still does, to this day) because Rise of Iron and everything from that was fairly abruptly ended.

An important thing to consider is that D2 was being added to a new platform and the game needed a reason to have all characters start with nothing. That's genuinely one of the main reasons why the Red War was about us losing the Light; it allowed for everyone to start from scratch. So basically the setup for the Red War was that they needed a blank slate start. However, despite that, vanilla D2 treated your character as the established one from D1, regardless of whether you played D1 or not; for me personally, starting D2 was one of the most confusing gaming experiences ever. You didn't get a rez scene or anything; you made your character and you were put into a situation where everyone acted like they know who you are. But the game still needed things to basically be a soft-reboot where you have to earn and learn everything again, so the story had to be about something drastic like the Red War.

With that said, there's a cool little detail mentioned in Skyburner's Oath exotic which launched with vanilla D2:

Now this is the end, brothers, our final fight. Ghaul's here to finish it. Mars taught us how to fight Guardians. The Hive taught us how to eat their Light. Remember that we made it possible. The Red Legion ends it.

The Skyburners (one of the legions) mention here how they made "it possible" (highly implied to be the Red War) and that they learned both how to fight Guardians and how the Hive "eat their Light." The same lore tab also mentions how the Skyburners participated in the attack on the Dreadnaught back in the Taken King and were first on the front lines for that. In this mission from the Taken King in D1 the Skyburners sent some sort of a message to a source in the Empire, possibly with information they uncovered in the solar system: the implication being that this information they sent was instrumental for Ghaul to eventually lead the invasion and cage the Traveler's Light.

We don't know for sure if that was planned since then, obviously, but it can be used as a little bit of a hint and prelude to what would eventually happen, showing us for how long the invasion was being planned and how Ghaul prepared the Light-supression technology. It could also be just the Skyburners doing the typical military boasting where they're taking the credit for something after the fact.

Other than that, there was nothing that really set that up in any other way. The event quite literally happened out of nowhere and blindsided the entire Vanguard and all Guardians. Our communications were compromised beforehand by Psions, though the Nine were involved as well, so nobody could prepare for the attack (although, two people DID predict it: Lakshmi-2 and Osiris). Chararacters like Ghaul and his Red Legion were also not mentioned at all prior to D2 so there wasn't a setup about him or his army.

[megafreeman]

I was talking about Saints Row to someone who never played Saints Row recently, and they asked me why do I invest myself in this series' story if I hate it so much which is so funny. But you know what? I'm beginning to think that's what makes this series so appealing in the first place.

Thinking about it, Saints Row 1 was an amazing entrance to the series, and the start of the Saints saga. Not to mention that it was literally ahead of time in the terms of delivering a deep, thoughtful storyline that took itself seriously. And then, they did something insane, something that GTA never did (this is really important, considering that at time, the reputation it had was "GTA clone"), but did a direct sequel to the first game, with a lot of returning characters. All while perfectly capturing the mix of wacky fun and serious storytelling, and all that the same Rockstar rebooted GTA with brand new cast and direction, which made Saints Row stand out on its own as a series in comparison.

And then it just went downhill from there, getting further and further from the original deep and serious direction, even being a Mass Effect parody at one point (That's the part that made the person ask me this originally btw). This usually causes the fandom to pick a favorite entry and then base their entire perception of the series on the tone set (usually SR1 and SR2 claiming the majority)

And that's where it gets fun, where you form a unique bond with series. The fanart, the fanfiction, the fanon. Because every has their interpenetration of the series, everyone tends to reimagine their own take on the individual games to fit this interpenetration. From small things like adapting Saints Row 1 to be about a female Playa, to completely rewriting SRIV and removing sci-fi elements from it.

Dex and Troy are a perfect example, where everyone has their own take on the two characters because Volition did a terrible job writing them post-SR1, and we just soak that up, take notes from each other??? Can you imagine doing that in some other fandom? Imagine going to someone in Mass Effect fandom and telling them you rewrote their favorite character in the later games because you hate the direction devs took. You'd literally be put in witness protection.

And because everyone is doing this, this creates an unique environment in the fandom where we aren't really toxic to each other and our takes on the series, because we understand its just our different experiences of the series. Especially since almost everyone I met on Tumblr fully understands that fanon is something personal to a person writing it, and it makes the experience of sharing it and consuming it a lot better compared to someone on YT or Reddit writing their "ideal" SR sequel that always seems pushing their fanon as "one true canon" compared to being a cool little story you make and share with your friends.