#and then! we will be on to the main story!!!!!!!!

[jonnywaistcoat]

What’s your opinion on the contrast between “silly” and “serious” spaces? Do you think people can have very serious interpretations about a genuine piece of media and also be goofy about it? I’m asking this particularly because I’ve seen people in the Magnus podcast fandoms fight about people “misinterpreting” characters you, Alex, and the many other authors have written. Are you okay with the blorbofication or do you really wish the media you’ve written would be “taken seriously” 100% of the time?

And follow up question, what do you think about the whole “it’s up to the reader (or in some cases, listener) to make their own conclusions and interpretations and that does not make them wrong”, versus the “it was written this way because the author intended it this way, and we should respect that” argument?

This is a question I've given a lot of thought over the years, to the point where I don't know how much I can respond without it becoming a literal essay. But I'll try.

My main principle for this stuff boils roughly down to: "The only incorrect way to respond to art is to try and police the responses of others." Art is an intensely subjective, personal thing, and I think a lot of online spaces that engage with media are somewhat antithetical to what is, to me, a key part of it, which is sitting alone with your response to a story, a character, a scene or an image and allowing yourself to explore it's effect on you. To feel your feelings and think about them in relation to the text.

Now, this is not to say that jokes and goofiness about a piece of art aren't fucking great. I love to watch The Thing and drink in the vibes or arctic desolation and paranoia, or think about the picture it paints of masculinity as a sublimely lonely thing where the most terrible threat is that of an imposed, alien intimacy. And that actually makes me laugh even more the jokey shitpost "Do you think the guys in The Thing ever explored each other's bodies? Yeah but watch out". Silly and serious don't have to be in opposition, and I often find the best jokes about a piece of media come from those who have really engaged with it.

And in terms of interpreting characters? Interpreting and responding to fictional characters is one of the key functions of stories. They're not real people, there is no objective truth to who they are or what they do or why they do it. They are artificial constructs and the life they are given is given by you, the reader/listener/viewer, etc. Your interpetation of them can't be wrong, because your interpretation of them is all that there is, they have no existence outside of that.

And obviously your interpretation will be different to other people's, because your brain, your life, your associations - the building blocks from which the voices you hear on a podcast become realised people in your mind - are entirely your own. Thus you cannot say anyone else's is wrong. You can say "That's not how it came across to me" or "I have a very different reading of that character", but that's it. I suppose if someone is fundamentally missing something (like saying "x character would never use violence" when x character strangles a man to death in chapter 4) you could say "I think that's a significant misreading of the text", but that's only to be reserved for if you have the evidence to back it up and are feeling really savage.

I think this is one of the things that saddens me a bit about some aspects of fandom culture - it has a tendency to police or standardise responses or interpretations, turning them from personal experiences to be explored into public takes to be argued over. It also has the occasional moralistic strain, and if there's one thing I wish I could carve in stone on every fan space it's that Your Responses to a Piece of Art Carry No Intrinsic Moral Weight.

As for authorial intention, that's a simpler one: who gives a shit? Even the author doesn't know their own intentions half the time. There is intentionality there, of course, but often it's a chaotic and shifting mix of theme and story and character which rarely sticks in the mind in the exact form it had during writing. If you ask me what my intention was in a scene from five years ago, I'll give you an answer, but it will be my own current interpretation of a half-remembered thing, altered and warped by my own changing relationship to the work and five years of consideration and change within myself. Or I might not remember at all and just have a guess. And I'm a best case scenario because I'm still alive. Thinking about a writers possible or stated intentions is interesting and can often lead to some compelling discussion or examination, but to try and hold it up as any sort of "truth" is, to my mind, deeply misguided.

Authorial statements can provide interesting context to a work, or suggest possible readings, but they have no actual transformative effect on the text. If an author says of a book that they always imagined y character being black, despite it never being mentioned in the text, that's interesting - what happens if we read that character as black? How does it change our responses to the that character actions and position? How does it affect the wider themes and story? It doesn't, however, actually make y character black because in the text itself their race remains nonspecific. The author lost the ability to make that change the moment it was published. It's not solely theirs anymore.

So yeah, that was a fuckin essay. In conclusion, serious and silly are both good, but serious does not mean yelling at other people about "misinterpretations", it means sitting with your personal explorations of a piece of art. All interpretations are valid unless they've legitimately missed a major part of the text (and even then they're still valid interpretations of whatever incomplete or odd version of the text exists inside that person's brain). Authorial intent is interesting to think about but ultimately unknowable, untrustworthy and certainly not a source of truth. Phew.

Oh, and blorbofication is fine, though it does to my mind sometimes pair with a certain shallowness to one's exploration of the work in question.

#Big thoughts #Big rambles #These are my current thoughts at least #They will likely change #As all things do

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

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User 2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

User 3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ User 4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

User 5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

User 6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

User 7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

User 8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

User 9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @ YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of The Tonight Show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

User 11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

User 12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ User 1 not even in the likes or comments

→ User 2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ User 3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

User 4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ User 5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 Aug '22

4,990 comments

User 6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ User 7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to being right a romance novel at this time

→ User 6 confirmation??!?!

→ User 7 we’re children of divorce

→ User 8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ User 9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ User 10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ User 11 i love their friendship

→ User 12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

User 13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

User 14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ User 15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

User 16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story

danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in Suzuka. Moving on to the Americas

5,509 comments

User 1 maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

User 2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

User 3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ User 4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ User 5 he’s way too young for her

→ User 4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

User 7 happy birthday to the best author

User 8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

User 5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ User 6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

This is going to be part of a Baby Fever Angst series with the other drivers. So, multiple drivers are going to have an smau like this.

I do have Part 2s planned if people want them but also happy to leave it like this :)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 smau #f1 smau #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au #social media au imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 headcanon #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 headcanon #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo headcanon #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo x reader

[dduane]

When Lin found her book on a list of “objectionable materials” to be removed by a local district school board, she was stumped. The story is inspired by her daughter, who ate many moon cakes at a Moon Festival celebration and got really upset when the moon cakes were all gone: “That became the inspiration for ‘A Big Moon Cake For Little Star,’ which is simply about a girl who cannot resist eating a moon cake – a very, very big moon cake.” She continued, “The only political statement that it makes is that the main character is Asian … To realize that there are people, fellow citizens, who believe that we should not be the heroes in stories is very, very disheartening.”

#book bans #US politics

[snoozekook]

Fallen (JK) - Teaser

📝 Summary: Your older brother, Yoongi, reminds you time and time again that people who make you fall in love way too fast are always bad news. Jeon Jungkook is exactly that person but much like Icarus, his warnings take a backseat as you find yourself flying closer and closer to the sun—until you ultimately meet your demise.

👥 Main Characters: Actor!Jungkook x College Student!Fem!Reader

📷 Supporting Characters: Min Yoongi, Lee Sungkyung, Lee Jieun, Jang Yijeong, Kim Woosung, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, Kim Mingyu, Cha Eunwoo, Han Sohee, Tyler Tio, Kim Chaewon and Huh Yunjin

🎭 Genres: Angst, Yandere-ish

📖 Type: Oneshot | Series | Drabble

❌ Warnings: This is fan fiction only. It doesn’t represent Jungkook and all the artists in this story in any way in real life. As for the rating, this story is for 18+ audiences only. Minors do not interact. There will be smut in this story but it’s not my greatest strength when it comes to writing so it will not be overly descriptive. Furthermore, the following are additional warnings that may be triggering for some: depiction of a toxic relationship and everything that comes with it aka some mild yandere elements so also tagging it (gaslighting, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, cheating, isolation from family and friends, the aftermath of the end of a toxic relationship - depression, destructive habits, and then overcoming it.)

🪽 Fill out this form if you’re intrigued with the story and you want to read it once it’s been published!

🗓️ Release Date: May 2024 (I can’t promise a specific date but I do aim to publish it this month. It’s been sitting in my mind and in my drafts for a long time and I just wanna share it to the world.)

⌨ Word Count: 898

“How long do these rehearsals last, Jungkook?” You ask your boyfriend, crossing your arms over your chest as you step out of the bathroom with nothing but your underwear and his old tattered T-shirt.

             He’s taking off his pants when he sighs deeply. “Why are you still awake, baby?”

             “Answer my question,” You say, firmly. “Why are these rehearsals always ending at two fucking am, Jungkook? And why do you always smell like some citrus fruit?”

             Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head, showing off his toned physique. You narrow your gaze at him, clenching your jaw as to not be blindsided by his hot body. “Baby, it’s two am. Our neighbors are sleeping, I’m tired, you’re tired. Let’s talk in the morning where our heads are both clear and we’re not exhausted to the brim.”

             “No, we are talking right now. This shit has been happening for three weeks now. I’ve read your script and though I may not know everything about films and acting, I’m not fucking dumb either. Your movie is not even fucking Silence of the Lambs or some Tarantino shit, Jungkook! You don’t need all these fucking rehearsals for a romcom,” You seethe.

             “So, before you accused me of lying and now you’re minimizing my work. Great. Thanks Y/N, I fucking appreciate the support,” Jungkook replies with a humorless laugh, walking past you to enter the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door behind him so you follow him inside.

             “I didn’t minimize your work. I was just making a comparison. Why all these rehearsals? What do you even fucking do in these rehearsals? Practice kissing? Practice fucking each other in front of the cameras? You have a girlfriend, in case you forgot.”

             “And your boyfriend is an actor, in case you forgot,” Jungkook snaps, gripping the edge of the sink as he glares at you. “Like you said, it’s a romcom. The main selling point is chemistry. We need to sell chemistry. That’s why we’re rehearsing so much.”

             You don’t have anything to retort at the moment and he takes it as a sign that he has ‘won’ the debate. “Fucking Christ, Y/N, when the hell did you become the jealous type?”

             “Try always staying up for your boyfriend to come home at two am, Jungkook. Tell me if you won’t feel the same way.”

             Jungkook lowers his head before clicking his tongue and grabbing your wrist. He tugs on it but you pull it back. He repeats the action several times before you give in and he traps you between his arms, your ass pressed against the cold sink. “You have nothing to worry about, Y/N, I’m serious. It’s just work.”

             “I just,” You sigh deeply. “I’m so stressed, Kook, and I need you. My finals are around the corner, I’m trying to look for law firms taking in undergraduate paralegals for internship, my friends and Yoongi and his friends keep telling me that it’s not normal that you keep going home late, not texting, not calling, not—,”

             “Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook says, eyebrows scrunched together as he backs away. “You’re being jealous because of what your friends and your brother and his friends are telling you?”

             You open your mouth to rebut but the way he phrased his question makes you retreat and realize that it translates perfectly to what they’ve been doing.

             “Fucking great, just great,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’d rather believe what they say about me and our relationship than me, your boyfriend? What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?”

             The familiar anxiety builds up. “N-No, it’s nothing like that, Kook, please. They’re just worried, is all.”

             “Worried? Are you fucking dense, Y/N? They’re clearly ruining our relationship and you are letting them,” Jungkook spits.

             You feel tears burning in your eyes. “But—But why haven’t you been texting? Calling? Like before? You haven’t even taken me out on a date in a long time, Kook.”

             “What are we? In high school? I don’t need to be texting and calling you all the time especially when I’m working. Jesus Christ, I’m working so I can pay for this apartment, my fucking bills, my groceries, my car. I’m sorry I’m not able to take you fancy fucking dates your friends and brother take you on. I didn’t grow up with a trust fund I can access the moment I turned eighteen nor did I have an older brother to pay for my shit, Y/N. I actually had to work so I can live.”

             “That’s not fair, Kook…” You sob, shaking your head. “You make time for the people you love.”

             He raises his hands, looking at you with wide eyes filled with disbelief. “I give up. You’re so fucking unbelievable.”

             “Jungkook, I’m—,”

             “Go. Please. I just want to be alone. Call a cab and go back to your brother or wherever the fuck you wanna go. I just need you out of my place, Y/N.”

             Your heart shatters. “Jungkook, please, let’s not—,”

             “Leave Y/N. I’m serious.”

             You let the tears roll down your cheeks as you gather your things, slip on your sweatpants, and leave his room. As you slip on your shoes, you still hold onto the hope that Jungkook stops you, but he doesn’t. You hear the shower running. As you leave his apartment, heart shattered into a million pieces, you begin to wonder—is this what Yoongi says about falling too fast only to end up just crashing?

✍️ A/N: I do not condone this type of relationship and I hope you don’t ever get into one because it is actually damaging. Also, this story is an interpretation of Yoongi’s famous quote about not being afraid to land, but scared of falling because I feel that it is also very applicable to romantic relationships. Lastly, I’ve been listening a lot to Fallen by Lola Amour so everything just clicked and here we are! Comments and feedbacks are highly appreciated! Let me know what your thoughts are so far from the teaser. — Kay 👻

#jungkook angst #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook au #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts angst #yandere bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts au #bangtan #soft yandere jungkook #fallen by snoozekook #all rights reserved 2024 by snoozekook #snoozekook 🗑️✍️ #Spotify

[lylahammar]

thinkin about how Izutsumi is set up to seem like she's gonna be an antagonist when she's first introduced, but then the main party almost immediately just adopts her into their little found family 😭 it makes my heart feel so full

#marcille especially is like YAYYYY A LITTLE KITTY SISTER OF MY VERY OWN #like in any other story she woulda been an obstacle for the main characters to fight but. no we must parent that cat #dungeon meshi #lyla's talking again #dungeon meshi spoilers #kinda idk maybe some anime onlys still think they're gonna fight her lol

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 , 𝐉𝐀𝟏𝟗

summary , everybody thought you and charles were a thing turns out your fathers international teammate has something to say about that

pairing , julian alvarez x fem! messi! ferrari! f1 driver! reader

main masterlist | football masterlist

yourinstagram . 4hrs ago

seen by charles_leclerc leomessi 89,798,989 others

user replied to your story!

you and charles are such a cute couple

user replied to your story!

are you guys dating?

user replied to your story!

is charles you bf?

user replied to your story!

what does your dad think about you dating charles?

nothing cuz we aren't dating

juliaanalvarez replied to your story!

hola bby

don't know why he is smiling at you like that

cuz I'm the one who left those hickies on your neck not him

baby you know we are just friends right 😭

yes but still....

you are still coming to the fa cup match right???

ofc bby

I'm legit getting on the flight rn

I wouldn't miss it for the world

text me when you land I'll come and pick you up

okay baby

liked by juliaanalvarez

yourinstagram . 12hrs ago

seen by charles_leclerc maxverstappen1 79,389,479 others

user replied to your story!

oh no my ship it's sinking

user replied to your story!

bae...that ain't charles

user replied to your story!

thank you for leaving charles for me

charles_leclerc replied to your story!

if he hurts you I will end him

I know char

thx bestie

np dumbass

yourinstagram

liked by juliaanalvarez charles_leclerc 89,438,479 others

yourinstagram my man love me for more than just my last name

comments have been disabled

#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ lola's works ˚₊· ꒱꒱ #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #football imagine #football imagines #football x reader #football x you #julian alvarez imagine #julián álvarez imagine #julian alvarez fanfic #julian alvarez x reader #julian alvarez x you #football one shot #football #football blurb #footballer imagine #manchester city #man city #champions league #julian alvarez x y/n #julian alvarez × you #julian alvarez one shot #julian alvarez blurd #julian alvarez fluff #julian alvarez #Julián Álvarez #footballer fluf #foootballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

I have always admired people who have their one thing. People who care deeply about one highly specific cause, people who have deep knowledge about their one niche interest, people who are really into one particular movie… 

I just think it’s neat! It’s really interesting to hear people talk about their one thing. There’s also so much comfort in the fact that people can find so much happiness and meaning and purpose in something seemingly random! 

Last but not least, it’s also often the people with their one thing who (pardon my language) get shit done. Someone who puts their whole heart into doing their one small thing passionately likely does much more good for the world than someone who tries to constantly give their attention to every single problem everywhere all the time simultaneously. The first one can keep their energy and love for the cause high, the latter probably just ends up burning themselves out. 

… and yet, with all this genuine admiration for people like that: I often judge myself for being a person like that. 

If you wonder what my one thing is, well, you’re looking at it! It’s writing about mental health and wellbeing in the lgbt+ community. I write this blog. I write books with main characters who are lgbt+ and mentally ill or neurodivergent. I do a lot of research on that topic to base my writing on ,and also just for fun. Even with the music or movies or books I enjoy, I seek out that topic or at least I’ll analyze it with that lens… So, according to my very own thoughts I stated above, I should feel like the coolest guy ever! 

But I don’t. I feel embarrassed when people ask about my interests or hobbies. I feel guilty for it not being something you can „turn into a career“. I feel like I’m boring for writing 3 books about the same topic. I feel like I’m stupid for not having multiple passions. I feel like I need to prove my masculinity by having more „male interests“... long story short, I’m being a big old bully to myself about it. 

You may be a „my one thing“ person as well or maybe you’re someone with many different interests, or maybe you are someone who has one thing but the thing changes every few weeks. No matter where you stand, we probably have this in common: we can be really mean towards ourselves over things we wouldn’t judge others for. This may be so common because it’s pretty easy to have a distorted perception of ourselves (after all, we notice every single little thing we think or do or say, while in others we see the bigger picture) or because so many grow up internalizing negative messages about ourselves(but not about others). 

We set impossibly high standards for ourselves that we would never impose on our loved ones - but we should also be our own loved one. After all, you’ll be the person you spend the most time with during your life. Much better for your closest companion to be a friend than a foe. 

So, in this spirit, I’ll try to lead by example: I have my one thing, and that’s super cool of me!! What’s cool about you? 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

#lgbt #lgbt+

[cinamun]

Well friends, its officially official .... in the case of TFA, Bishop Blackburn is deceased. He was found early this morning by The Wildfangs and reduced to one femur and one ankle bone. They even ate the man's durag....

But let's explore a little more just who this man was in the Drakerverse:

Bishop arrived as a regular character on December 17th, 2022 as the Problematic Boyfriend™ of Jayce Carruther's mother, Mercy Carruthers. He's been a menace ever since.

*Note: he did arrive in the story earlier that year, but didn't play a major role until he started fucking the mains momma

We all love a good villian so when he was "killed" in Let It Burn, written by my sister-in-storytelling @therichantsim, and she asked if I could find a use for him, I couldn't pass it up! I honestly had no idea how he might fit, until I did! His entire ruthless, felonious persona can only be attributed to Rich, I just morphed him a teeny bit for the purposes of his role in TFA.

I am grateful that I got to play with a maniac for as long as I did. However, as we move into this new chapter, we will not be seeing Bishop again in Things Fall Apart. Will there be another more diabolical evil villian lurking around the corner? Perhaps.... perhaps not.

See y'all Sunday!

#story stuff #have a wonderful weekend #indya #extras

[mariclerc]

Petite sizes | cl16 & gr63

Summary: A girls' day out with your mom goes wrong, but your boys are always to the rescue.

Warning: mean words by reader's mom, Charles and George being supportive of you, a lot of fluff.

a/n: Hi guys! This is the first story/blurb in the "Poly!drivers" section, I hope you like it!! I accept suggestions and I would also like to know if you want a part two of this!!

You walk through the door, kicking off your shoes and letting out a tired sigh. Charles and George are sprawled on the couch, watching one of Gordon Ramsay's many cooking shows, hearing your sigh, they both turned their heads to look at you. You had gone to the mall with your mom to have a girls' day out, but, as always, she made one of her discreet comments about your body and that hurt you a lot.

“Hey guys...” you say with a shy smile that didn't reached out your eyes.

“Hey gorgeous, how was girls' day with your mom?” Charles asked sweetly.

”Did you find anything nice?” now George asked softly.

You hesitate, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. You plop down on the couch between them, snuggling into Charles' side.

“Well, there was this one shirt I really liked, but... it didn't fit right.” you say shyly.

George reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. “Oh no, that's a bummer. Was it too big or too small?”

You shake your head. “It was marked as a small, but it was way too big... You know that I usually use small or extra small, but nothing ever fits just right.” You bite your lip, trying to hold back tears. “And my mom... she didn't help either. She just called me a crybaby for being frustrated and said that because I'm "so small" and "like a dwarf," I can't find clothes that fit.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and Charles pulls you into a tight hug. ”Oh mon petit chou, don't listen to her. You're perfect just the way you are, petite et adorable.” (my little darling) (little and adorable)

George kisses your forehead. “She's just being a silly woman. You're beautiful, no matter what size clothes you wear, we just love you just the way you are, darling.”

They both shower you with kisses and gentle words, their love and support washing away the sting of your mother's hurtful words. You snuggle closer to them, feeling safe and loved.

“Thank you both... I love you my babies!” you smile softly at them.

Charles and George smile at each other, happy to see you feeling better. “On t'aime aussi, mon amour.” (we love you too, my love)

“You are our little princess okay? And we love you so much baby.” George whispers.

They hold you close, their love a warm shield against any negativity. As you try to snuggle with them, a question comes to your mind.

“Ehm... Guys? I want to know something.” you say while fidgeting slightly.

“Anything on your mind, mon ange?” Charles asks as he raises an eyebrow. (my angel)

“Well... I was wondering... Do you guys like my small body? I know I shouldn't ask this, but doubts consume me...” You say a little blushing.

Charles and George exchange a playful look, a knowing smile spreading across their faces.

“Like it? Princess, you're adorable! We wouldn't have it any other way.” George's says teasingly.

Charles pulls you closer. “Your size is perfect for cuddling... We love being able to hold you completely in our arms.”

”And your small frame makes you look even more beautiful in our clothes... Just saying.” George says while nuzzling your neck.

You have a shy smile on your lips. “Really? Well... In that case... I'd like to wear one of Charlie's hoodies.” You pause briefly. “Because I feel comfortable in it... And it's warm!” you giggle.

Charles smiles. “Well, in that case, you can wear my hoodies baby! If they make you feel comfortable, you can do it, you don't have to ask permission for it, okay?” He says and you nod, George smiles too. Charles' throws his arm around you, leading you to the main room.

“And if it's a bit big, don't worry babe. We can always roll up the sleeves and make it extra cozy!” George says as he follows you both into the main room.

You laugh and blush a little bit, the warmth of their affection chasing away any lingering doubts. As you slip into Charles' baby blue hoodie, engulfed by its soft embrace and their loving presence, you know that you are truly cherished and loved by your two boys, exactly as you are.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #poly!f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles x reader #charles leclerc #george russell x you #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #george x reader #george russell #cl16 x reader #gr63 x reader #poly!drivers #george russell x reader #lecssell #georles #lecssell x reader #poly!drivers x reader

[cosmicjoke]

Levi's Strength

One thing that's pretty obvious from "Bad Boy" is that Levi was always holding back A LOT whenever we saw him fight or engage in physical confrontation of any kind in the main story.

The kind of strength Levi displayed here, as a little boy, was honestly shocking. He literally tore those men apart with his bare hands. That kind of strength is, in the least, equivalent to something like a brown bear or a tiger, or maybe even an elephant.

So in all those scenes we see in which Levi smacks Eren around, for example, or when he manhandles Historia, I think it's important to recognize the absolutely incredible control over his own strength he's engaging in. If he'd been using even half of his actual strength, he would have ended up killing Eren all those times he kicked him.

Because we see Levi in "Bad Boy" literally tear men's faces off, and tear their heads apart, and cave their skulls in with a kick to the face.

I always knew Levi was holding back big time, from when we see him kick the thick, wooden door in leading to Eren's basement. He reduced that thing to splinters, which made it obvious that Levi wasn't exerting even a fraction of his strength against Eren, or anyone else that he got physical with. But I had no idea it was by this much.

If Levi was that strong as a child, and a malnourished, poverty stricken child at that, one can only imagine what his strength was as a full-grown man. I wouldn't be surprised if Levi had the capability of taking a titan down with only his bare hands, for real.

I think the kind of strength we see from Levi here also makes it clear that, in "No Regrets", if Levi had truly wanted to kill Erwin at any point, he could have with shocking ease, including at the end, when he had his sword to Erwin's throat. If he really wanted Erwin dead, nothing could have stopped him. I think it's obvious even that when Mike was holding him down in that puddle of sewage, Levi could have easily broken free of his hold and probably killed everyone there in an instant. And it's clear that the only reason he didn't is because of Furlan and Isabel, and wanting to protect them, and also to support Furlan's plans and dreams. Levi let himself be degraded and humiliated solely for them.

There's obviously no contest between Levi and anyone else. Even Kenny and Mikasa never displayed that kind of power.

#Levi Ackerman #Bad Boy #bad boy spoilers #analysis

[morallyinept]

Adulation - A Marcus Pike x Alopecia F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You've been dating and getting to know the handsome Agent Pike for some time, but there's still one last thing you've yet to tell him about yourself.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Alopecia F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity. Reader does not have hair on her head and wears wigs.)

Word Count: 7.7k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Triggers & Warnings: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/thigh riding/gentle dirty talk/Marcus is completely smitten with you.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

"We should try the sampler platter," Marcus suggests, his gaze lingering on the menu of mouth watering options. "That way, we can taste a little bit of everything?"

“Well, they say variety is the spice of life. I like your thinking, Agent.” You smirk as Marcus’s cheeks fill with blood. 

You watch as Marcus sips from his wine glass, deep brown eyes meeting yours over the glass rim of dark berry liquid. 

“You, uh… you look really beautiful tonight. You look so good in that dress. I can’t take my eyes off you.” 

“Stop it,” you smile bashfully.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He teases, pouring out more wine into your glass. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

You feel your face warm with pleasure at his compliment, your heart fluttering with delight, skin flecking with goosebumps and tingles as his words make their way across it.

He always makes you feel like this with a simple sentence and look. Makes you feel… seen. 

"Well, I thought I'd switch things up a bit," you admit, a hint of giddy laughter in your voice. "Gotta keep you on your toes, you know?" 

His eyes roam over the sleek bob of midnight black, the sharp lines of the style adding an air of sophistication to your ensemble. Your hair shimmers in the gloaming candlelight, lending an aura of mystery and allure to your already captivating presence.

Marcus chuckles, leaning closer to you across the table. "You certainly have a way of keeping me captivated," he remarks, his eyes sparkling with a magnetising affection.

“I do?” You query, reaching for your wine glass. 

Marcus's eyes widen in surprise, a grin spreading across his face as he admires you. "Yeah. I love it," he replies, his voice filling with genuine admiration. "It's different, but it suits you perfectly."

“Different good?” You query and a pang of worry flits through your veins, reminding you it’s constantly there. A trusty companion, alongside your long term friends, angst and fear. 

“Yeah. It’s like I’m dating all these different women.” He chuckles at the absurdity of it, his cheeks glowing with warmth.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask him, finger circling the rim of your glass and his eyes drop to watch it momentarily.

“Hmm. Let me think…” He smiles and you can’t help but be drawn into the way his lips curve up into a dimple on his cheek. A fleshed crescent moon that you’ve fantasised about tasting since the first time you saw it revealed to you. 

Marcus Pike, FBI Special Agent in the Art Crimes Department, is the epitome of the perfect man, blending smooth determination with a profound appreciation for beauty and culture.

His sharp mind and keen eye for detail makes him a formidable agent, while his unwavering commitment to justice earns him the respect of his colleagues and adversaries alike. In the high-stakes world of art crime, Marcus stands out as a shining beacon of integrity and tenacity.

He approaches each case with a meticulous attention to detail, unravelling complex webs of deception and intrigue with adept precision and skill. 

Whether he’s tracking down stolen masterpieces or uncovering elaborate forgery rings, Marcus's relentless pursuit of truth and justice never wavers.

But it isn't just his professional acumen that makes Marcus so extraordinary; it’s his genuine passion for art and culture that truly sets him apart. 

That, and the fact he’s ridiculously handsome. 

He has a deep appreciation for the beauty and significance of the works he seeks to protect, viewing each painting, sculpture, and artefact as a priceless treasure to be safeguarded for future generations. Marcus's love for art extends beyond the confines of his work, infusing every aspect of his personal life with a sense of wonder and curiosity. 

And it’s where you first met him, in the serene halls of the local art gallery where you crossed paths with Special Agent Marcus Pike. Spinning on his polished heels to greet you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, and how they sparkled at you instantly.

Harbouring your own passion for art and a keen eye for beauty, you work as a curator, carefully selecting and showcasing the works of talented artists from around the world as well as in the local vicinity.

Marcus, drawn to the gallery as a way of unwinding from his case loads, found himself captivated not only by the stunning artwork on display but also by the enigmatic presence of you. Colourful and striking; your clothes, accessories, and hair, all alive with vividness. 

You both spent your individual free time exploring museums and galleries, studying the brushstrokes of the masters and marvelling at the stories behind each piece.

And when he wasn't immersed in the world of art, Marcus could often be found indulging in the delights of cuisine, tempting you with indulgent treats he started bringing to you on your lunch, innocently suggesting he thought you might like it, and recommending the best places to eat.

Until he boldly suggested you try them out with him. 

But perhaps Marcus's most admirable quality is his unwavering dedication to those he cares about. He’s fiercely loyal to his team, always ready to go to bat for them in the face of danger or adversity.

And when it comes to matters of the heart, Marcus is a true romantic, believing in love with every fibre of his being and never hesitating to show his affection for those closest to him.

As you’d lingered in front of a particularly captivating painting, two lovers entwined in a dance of exaggerated colour, Marcus felt a flutter of excitement in his chest.

He turned to you, his heart pounding with anticipation as he mustered up the courage to ask you a question that had been on his mind since you’d first met.

His voice was tinged with nervousness and his words caught in his throat. "I know this might seem sudden, but would you like to go out to dinner with me? I'd love to continue our conversation over a meal, if you're interested?"

“Are you asking me out on a date, Marcus?” You’d asked with hopeful eyes. 

“Absolutely I am.”

And you were interested. God, of course you were. Excited at the prospect of getting to know this incredibly gorgeous man some more. 

But also, incredibly terrified.

The thought of dating had long filled you with a sense of dread and anxiety. How could you ever expect someone to love and want you when you struggled to love yourself?

Past experiences had let you down incessantly. The idea of revealing your secret to a potential partner filled you with a swamping dread, the fear of rejection looming like a dark cloud ready to break in the distance.

You’d spent years perfecting the art of concealment, hiding the bald patches beneath layers of carefully styled hair, until eventually the patches became an entirely bare head and you had no choice but to wear wigs.

But no matter how hard you tried to hide your condition, the truth remained - you were different. Convincing yourself that you were flawed, even unlovable for a while.

But deep down, you knew that you couldn't let fear dictate your life forever. Somewhere out there, you hoped, was someone who would see past your alopecia.

On your first date together, Marcus took you to a different art gallery, one of his favourites in the city, knowing your love for beauty and culture would be a perfect match for the setting.

As you both wandered through the halls adorned with vibrant paintings and striking sculptures, Marcus couldn't help but admire the way your eyes lit up with wonder and fascination.

He watched in rapt attention as you studied each piece with a keen eye, your curiosity piqued by the stories and emotions captured within the artwork. 

You exchanged whispered observations and shared smiles as you explored the gallery together, lost in the magic of the moment.

Fingers accidentally on purpose brushing against one another until they interlocked. Lips inching closer until they finally met in soft hums of appreciation and want. Whispers that erupted into breathy giggles as you slipped into alcoves to explore those lips some more.

He complimented everything about you, your eyes, the way you taste and your hair, winding his fingers through the loose, flowing curls as they fell over your shoulder. Clearly unable to tell that it wasn’t your real hair, and that made it all the more devastating somehow. 

You couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that chomped at your insides. Marcus looked at you with such openness and sincerity, yet you couldn't bring yourself to reveal the truth about your hair loss.

The thought of disappointing him, of shattering the illusion of perfection you had carefully crafted, filled you with guilt every time he smiled softly at you. How could you continue to deceive him, knowing that the truth would inevitably come to light?

As you continued to get close, your mind raced with thoughts of confession and consequence. You imagined Marcus's reaction - the shock, the disappointment, the inevitable rejection that would sure follow.

The fear of facing his judgement, of losing his affection, threatened to consume you whole. To the point you considered calling the whole dating thing off to save the heartache.

But you couldn’t abnegate yourself away from him either, drawn to him, by more than just your commonalities, which were growing in number and taste the more you shared time together.

The more he kissed you, held you close to him in his big hands, pressed you up against the warmth of him in a tight embrace, the more you just wanted him back. 

Your dates had taken you both to bustling markets, where you’d sampled exotic street foods and danced to the rhythm of live music. You’d strolled hand in hand through tranquil parks, lost in deep conversation as you watched the sunset paint the sky with hues of pink and gold. 

With each passing date, you and Marcus had peeled back the layers of your personalities, revealing your hopes and dreams to one another. Discovering shared interests and passions, as well as the unique quirks and idiosyncrasies that made each of you who you are. 

He spoke of his previous marriage, divorced and left adrift on a lonesome island of singledom. Then he told you about a colleague he’d fallen for, but again it had left him facing the nights alone in his new apartment here in D.C. when she’d made another choice.

His talk of rejection stumped him for a while, those brown eyes pulled deeper into his skull as he contemplated, the scars still visible, and it melted the fear clinging onto your own shoulders somewhat. 

You shared your own tales of heartbreak and there wasn’t much that you didn’t know about one another, revealing all your secrets and worries with ease. 

Well, almost all of them. 

Your finger winds through the cut length of the synthetic bob, one wig of several in your stylish armoury, and you swallow dryly, clearing your throat. 

It’s been on the cusp of your tongue but never seems to become a whole word with sound and vowels. And terrifying repercussions should it want to be pronounced. 

The waiter soon arrives with the sampler platter, a colourful array of small plates arranged artfully on a wooden board. Your eyes widen in delight as you survey the tempting spread before you. 

As you both sample the various dishes laid out, around delightful hums of satisfaction, Marcus can't help but marvel at the diverse flavours and textures that dance across his palate.

He glances at you, a playful twinkle in his eyes, as he reaches for another bite, but holds it out to you instead.

"This is incredible, try this," Marcus remarks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm as you lean in and taste it from his fork. You simply can’t resist him in any way. 

“Delicious.” You agree. 

You take a sip of your wine, a curious glint in your eyes as you look back at him.

"So, tell me something about you that I don't already know yet," you prompt, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“You want a heinous dark secret, hmm?” Marcus teases. 

“Sure. The more dark and twisted the better.” You giggle. 

Marcus chuckles, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his gaze. "Well, you might not believe it, but I used to play bass in a band. I don’t think I've mentioned that yet," he confesses, his voice tinged with fond reminiscence. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, your interest piqued. "Are you a secret metalhead, Marcus?”

“Well, not quite.”  

“That's really cool," you confirm, leaning forward eagerly. "What was the name of your band?"

Marcus grins, his peepers glinting with excitement at the memory. "We were called 'Midnight Groove'," he reveals, a nostalgic smile playing on his pink lips. "And we were all about that funky, soulful sound. We played everything from classic rock to blues to jazz fusion."

Your lips curve into a smile as you imagine Marcus on stage, lost in the rhythm of the music, fingers plucking at strings. You glance at them around his glass, thick and you lick your lips. 

"That sounds amazing," you remark, your voice filled with admiration. "I would love to hear you play sometime."

Marcus’s smile widens at your enthusiasm, his heart warmed by your genuine interest. "I'd like that," he says softly, his gaze locked with yours. "Maybe one day I'll dust off my old bass guitar and serenade you with some funky tunes."

“You don't play much anymore?”

“Disbanded. Work became all encompassing and we scattered. We stay in touch though. They’re a good bunch of guys.”

As the conversation and flirtatious looks flows between you both, Marcus leans in again, his eyes soft with genuine interest.

"So, tell me something about yourself that I don't know yet," he prompts, a warm smile playing on his lips.

His question hangs in the air, lingering between you like a taut thread of anticipation. Pulling tight, tight, tighter - until it snaps!

For a moment, you hesitate, your mind racing as you grapple with the weight of Marcus's innocent inquiry.

You search for something to share, something that will offer him a glimpse into your world without revealing the vulnerable truth you keep hidden beneath your wigs.

But try as you might, you find yourself at a loss for words, because he already knows everything. He knows where you grew up, how you got that little scar on your knee, who your first crush was...

He knows, he has to know right? It’s obvious. Has to be. The fact your hair is so different every time you see him is apparent that you wear wigs. He can’t be that naive or oblivious. 

The weight of your secret bears down on you like a heavy burden, suffocating your ability to speak and leaving you feeling exposed and prickly. You look at him, eyes soft and lips smiling in playful anticipation of your secret you’ll reveal.

He knows everything about you. Everything. Except this one, tiny, completely significant detail you’ve deliberately left out. 

As the silence stretches between you, Marcus reaches out to gently touch your hand, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. 

"Hey,” the velvety feel of his thumb stroking over your knuckles makes you somewhat dizzy. “You don't have to share anything you're not comfortable with," he reassures you, his voice soft and grounding.

You contemplate ending it right here, before Marcus has the chance to discover it all.

Your mind flits between making up some white lie or excusing yourself to the bathroom and walking out, disappearing from his life without a trace. It would be easier that way, wouldn't it? Easier than facing the inevitable truth.

But as you look into Marcus's eyes, filled with warmth and kindness, you know that you can't bring yourself to hurt him like that. Despite your fears and insecurities, you can't bear the thought of losing him - not when he's become such an integral part of your life, not when you’ve come to care for him so deeply.

Your gaze falters for a moment, your mind racing as you debate whether to reveal it. It could change everything - you suspect it might. It has before, countless times before. A repetitive déjà vu you're doomed to live through on endless repeat.

You don’t want to tarnish Marcus with the same brush, it’s unfair. But you’ve walked this path before and it’s hard not to expect disappointment. People are such fickle creatures after all.  

But the way he’s looking at you now, with deep brown eyes that reflect the candlelight, he softens your edges, makes the outline of your sight fuzzy and full of bokeh sparkles.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses over your features before you finally brave yourself to speak.

"Well, there's something I haven't really talked about before," you began slowly, your voice just above a trembled whisper.

And now you’ve started it’s unnerving to know how to finish. 

“Do you wanna leave, go somewhere private and talk?” He asks, sensing your hesitancy. 

“No, no, here is okay. Besides, if I don’t just come out and tell you now, I probably… won’t.”

“Okay.” Marcus says, his smile dipping a little. “Take your time. You can tell me anything, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He squeezes your hand inside his to emphasise the point. And you instantly feel wretched for assuming that he would once he knows.

He’s done nothing but make you feel at ease since the moment you met. Make you feel awash with vibrancy. He sees all your colours, every single one and doesn't try to grey them out or tone them down. He really likes you for… you.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage as you meet Marcus's curious gaze. 

"It's just... I-I have a condition called alopecia," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's why my hair looks different all the time. I wear wigs."

You pick up your wine glass, quickly downing the contents in two large gulps as your heart thuds inside your ears. 

Marcus nods, the smile instantly returning. “Yeah, I knew that.”

You baulk. “Wait, you did?” 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know for sure that it was alopecia, but I suspected it was probably something like that.”

“Your detective skills precede you, Agent.”

He smiles. “No, I just pay attention to things I really like looking at.” 

You smile back, any panic instantly falling from your shoulders.

“I didn’t want to pry. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I didn’t know for sure so didn’t want to assume. I've always admired your style. Especially your hair. It's so versatile - one day it's short and spunky, the next it's long and glamorous. I wish I had your knack for switching up my look."

“You look pretty fine to me, Marcus.” You say with a smile and his cheeks glow again. 

“Either way, I kinda love all those different looks on you.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah. They’re amazing and really compliment your personality,” he says and you feel warm at his admission. 

Throughout your dates, your hair has been a delightful kaleidoscope of colours and styles, each wig a reflection of your vibrant personality and adventurous spirit.

On your first meeting at the art gallery, your hair was cascaded in loose curls of rich chestnut in soft waves that caught his eye as you moved. The subtle highlights danced in the gallery's dim lighting, accentuating your features and drawing Marcus's gaze like a moth to a flame.

On a spontaneous night outing to a live jazz club, you surprised Marcus with a playful pixie cut of platinum blonde, the short strands framing your face in a halo of light.

With each nod of your head to the rhythm of the music, your hair caught the stage lights and sparkled like a constellation in the night sky, mesmerising Marcus with its silvery glimmer.

As your dates blossomed in frequency, you continued to delight and surprise Marcus with your ever-changing hairstyles. From long, flowing locks of fiery red to bold, statement-making curls of electric blue, and shorter edgy styles, each wig you wear is a testament to your creativity and bright confidence, and Marcus finds himself falling more deeply for you with each passing day. 

And he never queries why, just admiring and complimenting, and accepting that this is who you are. 

“Do you mind talking about it?” Marcus asks. 

“Not at all. I mean, not many people want to, I guess.”

“Really?”

“Compassion and understanding is often hard to compete with judgemental stares and whispering, you know?”

Marcus frowns. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that. That must have been hard.” He says sincerely. 

“The wigs help. Most people assume it’s a fashion choice.” You explain.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

He looks at you deeply. “Is it all over or just… your head?”

You breathe in. “Mostly my head. But for a while, I lost my eyelashes. I have hair… uh, elsewhere. But it tends to be really patchy so I keep it… trim.” You say, swallowing dryly as Marcus blushes. 

“I’m uh… I’m sure it’s all perfect.” He surmises.  

You smile. “My hair sometimes grows patchy on my head too, but it’s never long enough to grow out into full hair, if that makes sense? So I just shave it off. It’s easier.” 

Marcus nods, listening intently. “What's your favourite wig that you have?” 

You think about it for a moment. “The one I was wearing the day I met you.” 

He blushes. “Yeah. I really like that one too.” 

“Maybe I should wear it more often.” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at Marcus, overwhelmed by his kindness and sincerity. 

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand again. 

"I was so afraid that you’d be repulsed by me," you admit, your voice trembling.

“Why would you think that? I think you're absolutely beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

“Oh, Marcus.” You sniffle, reaching for your napkin to dab your eyes before your mascara runs. 

“I mean it.” He squeezes your hand again, wrapping his fingers around your own, his eyes filled with compassion. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me," he says softly, his voice filled with warmth. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're still the same amazing person I've come to care about. I really care about you."

You look at him, his hand emanating so much warmth around yours. “Yeah?”

He nods, smiling. “Can I tell you another secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m really falling for you, actually. Head over heels, completely and utterly.” He admits. 

In that moment, the world seems to stand still as you process Marcus's heartfelt confession. A surge of warmth floods your chest, chasing away the lingering doubts and fears that have plagued you for so long.

"Marcus, I..." you begin, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm falling for you, too."

The smile that spreads across his face could outshine the sun. 

With a soft exhale, Marcus leans in closer, his voice a tender whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

Marcus’s gaze locks with yours in a silent plea. "Would you... would you like to come back to my place after we finish up here?"

Your breath catches in your throat at Marcus's suggestion, your mind awash with a whirlwind of emotions and desires. The thought of being alone with him, of exploring the depths of your connection in the privacy of his home, sends a thrill coursing through your veins.

You can imagine him peeling you out of your dress, running his hands all over your skin. Asking you to stay with hot breath snaking in your ear because he wants to make love to you all night long. Wants to watch you buck and moan for him.

You’ve thought about it a lot at night, seeking satisfaction with your fingers and vibrator as your mind conjures up all the ways he can leave you satisfied. And you’d say yes, wanting nothing more than to let him fill you full of him, and then you’d have to take your wig off to sleep in his arms and-

“Oh.” Your thighs squeeze themselves together relieving some of that delicious anticipation, despite your mind penduluming between abject want and that familiar fear. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any wild expectations. Just some more wine and maybe a movie? Some cuddles on the couch?” Marcus tempts. 

With a slow nod, you meet Marcus's soft gaze with unwavering determination. You can’t abnegate yourself. Especially when it’s apparent he still wants to spend time with you, despite now knowing entirely everything about you.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'd really like that."

“Me too.” He smiles at you with a soft beam. 

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." 

You smile as Marcus talks along with the film Casablanca rolling across his flat TV screen. Changing his accent to match Humphrey Bogart’s, which makes you giggle, because it sounds nothing like it at all. Then he laughs with you, his chuckles sounding like wind chimes. 

Wrapped in a cosy blanket, you nestle closer to Marcus, your head resting against his chest as you lose yourselves in the timeless tale unfolding onscreen. 

Marcus drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer with a gentle warmth that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging.

Close up, Marcus exudes an aura of warmth and masculinity that’s impossible to ignore with each breath you inhale pressed against his broad chest. He’s dressed more casually now, exchanging his suit pants for casual grey sweats and his crips shirt for a looser round neck.

His scent mingles with the natural musk of his skin, creating a tantalising combination that stirs something primal within. You get whiffs of citrusy bergamot and zesty orange, base notes that are complimented by hints of spicy cinnamon and clove each time you breathe in.

You can smell the fruity tones of the cabernet on the soft warmth of his breath, cascading down your forehead onto your nose. 

As you watch the movie together, your soft breathing mingled with the crackle of the fireplace fills the room with a sense of warmth and intimacy, something you’ve always craved with a partner. To just feel close and wanted.

Marcus will occasionally steal glances down at you, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you relaxed and at ease in his arms.

“This feels so good.” You murmur into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, it really does.” He agrees. 

“Oh sorry, I was talking to Rick Blaine.” You giggle, his hand lowering and pinching your hip playfully. 

“Oh really?” Marcus teases. “Shall I leave you and Rick to it then?”

You giggle some more and he pulls you in closer. 

“He is really handsome, I’ll give you that. Maybe I’ll stay and watch.” He remarks. 

“Kinky,” you smirk. 

His chest heaves from another chuckle. 

“He’s not as handsome as you, though.” You chirp, looking at him.

As you trace the lines of his face with your gaze - the strong jawline, the stubble-softened cheeks, the gentle slope of his nose - you marvel at the beauty of the man before you.

He’s a masterpiece in every sense of the word - a work of art crafted with care and precision, a reflection of the love and light that dwells within his gentle soul.

“Oh yeah?”

You nod looking up at him. “Yeah. Sexy too.”

He grins with twinkly eyes. “You think I’m sexy?”

“Really sexy,” you nod, leaning up to kiss him.

“I think you’re incredibly sexy.” Marcus says as he brushes his lips against yours. “Mmm, God… look at you.” 

His tongue slips into your mouth, tantalising you into a willing submission inside his arms. It’s a kiss filled with tenderness and passion, a silent promise of love and acceptance that transcends words between you.

“It’s late,” you say softly, a dreamy relaxation settling into your bones, limbs warm from the wine and the snuggly blanket draped over you both.

Soft hums, hands that sweep up arms and into the back of his hairline, a nose that crushes against yours as you breathe into one another, you connect on deeper levels. You could kiss him forever.

“Yeah,” he glances over at the clock and it’s nearing midnight. “I’ll call you a cab., sweetheart.”

Looking a little bereft, he goes to move, but your palm on his chest stops him. 

"Marcus, I... I don't want to leave, but-" 

The thought of staying the night with Marcus is both thrilling and terrifying, for it means revealing your most vulnerable self - the woman beneath the carefully crafted facade of your wigs.

But every fibre in your body wants him pressed up close to you like he is now, holding you in his arms, skin on delicious skin. 

You nod. 

“It’s okay. I feel the same way. I'm nervous too."

"You are?"

"Because... you want me. It's felt like no-one really has most of my life. Second best." He says, his smile dipping.

"It's their loss, Marcus. Trust me." You smile.

"I really wanna hold you all night and wake up with you in the morning. Make you pancakes for breakfast.” He smiles again, brushing his nose against yours. “But I also don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He says, his fingers stroking against your cheek. 

“But… when you’re ready, I do have something that might put you at ease.”

“What?”

“One sec.” He pushes off the blanket and disappears out of the room quickly.

You hear the thud of the stairs as he dashes up them and the shake again as he comes back down with something behind his back. 

“Marcus-” You grin waiting for him to reveal it. 

“I want you to know that I think you're beautiful, with or without your wig. And if and when you're ready to take it off, I'll be here for you, every step of the way. It changes nothing for me."

You smile softly at him.

“And I got this, for when you stay. I mean, if you want to. I hope you’ll want to. But I read some things about alopecia and some people said-”

“You read up on it?” You ask, your eyebrows rising.

“Yeah.” He hands it to you and your fingers stroke across a silken cap in a striking, deep sapphire hue. 

“Marcus.”

The simple gesture speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and care, touching you in a way you hadn't expected.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take the dainty cap from Marcus's outstretched hand, your fingers trembling with gratitude. It’s more than just a gift - it’s a symbol of his acceptance, his willingness to embrace every part of you, including your alopecia.

“I read that you might feel cold, when you sleep?”

“Yeah, I do,” you nod, wiping your eyes. “This is so thoughtful, Marcus.”

You’ve kept your alopecia hidden for so long, fearing rejection and judgement from those you care about. But Marcus's unwavering acceptance and understanding gives you a glimmer of hope - hope that you can be loved for who you truly are, wig or no wig.

"Thank you," you say softly, your voice tinged with emotion. "For being so kind and patient with me. This means so much much to me, more than you could ever know."

You look down at the cap, it’s colour bold and so pretty. Something so small, but means so much. A simple gesture that lets you know it's okay to be vulnerable.

To be yourself. 

Marcus smiles, his eyes sparkling with affection. "You don't have to thank me. I care about you deeply, and I want you to feel comfortable and safe with me, sweetheart."

“I do,” you smile. “I really do.”

With a shaky breath, you make a decision. You know that you can't let fear hold you back any longer. Not when Marcus is right here, imbuing you with strength and desire. 

Slowly, hesitantly, you reach up to remove your wig, unclipping it and revealing the smooth expanse of your scalp beneath.

Marcus's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, eyes roaming slowly over your head and his heart swelling with admiration for your courage and vulnerability.

"Wow," he says. He reaches out to gently cup your face in his hands, his touch tender and reverent.

He places a soft kiss on the top of your head, lips pressed gently into the smooth, bare skin and it lingers before he pulls you closer - large hands resting gently on your hips as he glides his lips against yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. "Absolutely stunning."

"I'm really not," you whisper.

"You are to me. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You feel his hands trail up your back and then disappear, the warmth from them now emanating on your cheeks again, thumbs stroking under your eyes. 

“I think…” You begin with a breathless whisper.

“Yeah?” He breathes into your mouth. 

“I think… I want to stay and for you to take me to bed, Marcus.”

“Are you sure?” He mouths against your cheek.

The subtle graze of his barely-there facial hair makes you hot under your skin. Your fingers clutch tighter around his shoulders, the material from his t-shirt bunching up there.

The little groan from the back of his throat is swallowed up as you breathe it down into your lungs.  

“I’m sure. I want you.” 

“God, I want you too.” He groans. 

You don’t make it to the bedroom, instead straddling his lap right on the sofa as you kiss him with everything you have. 

You help him out of his t-shirt, rolling it up and running your hands over his bronzed skin. Leaning in to trail open mouthed kisses down his chest, he unbuttons your shirt revealing delicate lace cups holding you in and groans audibly. 

And you both laugh when he struggles to unclasp it. 

“Fuck...” Marcus runs his mouth in a slew of delicate kisses over your cleavage, reaching around with nimble, yet trembling fingers to unclasp your bra.

"I think thas's the first time I've heard you curse." You snicker.

"I think the situation calls for it. My God... I can't believe how stunning you are!"

“What is going on back here?” He chuckles, and you help him out, letting your breasts spill into his face.

“God, look at those nipples.” He sighs hungrily. 

“Put them in your mouth.” You husk.

Kissing and licking over your nipples you can feel the clamminess over your back as you sweat. His tongue draws tantalising circles around them and you could just come from that alone. 

"Yes, ma'am." He sucks your nipple into his mouth, warm and wet as he swirls his tongue, giving each the attention they so deserve until they're hard and aching between the gentle pull of his teeth.

"Mmm," you groan in delight.

“Oh God, Marcus…” you whine, fingers tugging in his hair. You inadvertently rock your hips against his thigh, grinding softly on him. And he grunts glancing down at you doing it. 

“That feel good?” Marcus asks as you moan softly, feeling the delicious grind of your clit catching against the fabric of his sweats. 

“Yeah.”

He watches with rapt attention, his hands snaking their way around you and moving the henlm of your dress up round your stomach as you grip onto his shoulders. 

“Mmm, feels so good,” you groan.

“You look so good doing that… fuck.” He whispers, losing his voice. “Use me, that’s it. Like that. Make a mess of me. Come on, baby.” Marcus urges, pressing desperate kisses to your throat.

Winding your hips, you clock the bulge straining in his sweats and palm it, and he hisses between his teeth. He feels big, thick and you groan as the pressure on your clit mounts.

He rocks you harder, faster as you grind and pant, moaning his name softly as you build. Your gasps are more throaty, your body tensing up, and he can feel it under his hands. 

“Come for me, beautiful,” Marcus urges as you ride his thigh to a tingly oblivion.

Warmth spreads down your spine, laced with an aftermath of delicious prickles as your shudder and shake.

A dark patch is left on his grey sweatpants as your slick seeps into them. 

“I wanna take these panties off. God, they're so sexy. Can I?” Marcus husks with dark eyes. 

You nod and shimmy your hips so he can pull them down, laying you back on the couch as he parts your legs.

He licks his lips and groans at the perfectly bare pussy presented to him. 

“Fuck…” 

He strokes his fingers through your sopping folds, sucking on your nipples again as he slides his fingers up your slit, the pad of his finger pressing gently as you card through his hair. 

“M-Marcus,” you whine as he teases your entrance with those thick digits, feeling you clench around just the tip.

He strokes his finger in and out as you lay there, leaving it in so you can work those muscles against it, clenching around him as you groan with desperate need.

He teases, slowly pulling it out and just as slowly pushing it back in again. Withdrawing and then adding another until he pumps them inside your aching cunt. 

His other hand on the cushion beside your head inches closer, his thumb brushing against the smooth curve of your skin above your ear, and running his lips over your bare crown once more before resting his forehead on yours. 

The slick of your pussy being fucked by his fingers echoes around you both. 

“You are so beautiful,” he utters as he kisses you. 

You tug at the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down over his ass to release his cock. Stroking the thickness of it in your palm as he circles your clit with his thumb, two fingers buried deep inside you and rubbing against that spot inside that makes your thighs shake. 

“I need you, Marcus.”

“Mmm, you can have me, sweetheart. Anytime you want…” He croons, running his lips over your collarbone. 

“Oh really?” You smirk. 

“I’m completely yours.” And with the look in his eyes you believe him.

He is yours, yours to keep and love and grow old with if you want him - it's all there, deep in the golden swirls of his irises. A lifetime together; an irrevocable happiness that you’ve been searching for your entire life. 

“Mine.” You repeat, pulling his face up and kissing him. 

He lowers himself down, cock brushing against your folds as you groan. He pulls back to watch, teasing his thick head through those slick lips, watching as he slowly disappears inside them with a wet pop. 

“Oh fuck…” he sweetly blasphemes, teeth griding tight.

He guides himself in, pushing gently with his hips as he crests through your tight hole. You’re so wet, dripping for him, that he slides in with ease. 

You gasp at the thickness of him, the jolt as he runs his thumb over your clit as he slides in, cock filling you and stretching you around him. 

His body is so warm and you can't stop touching him, stroking his skin and planting kisses all over it.

His lips move across your own, inking breaths and dizzy chants into the layers. “Feels so good, feels so good, feels so good…”

“Oh God,” you breathe. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you feel really good.” It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. Smooth and deep as he fills you up, connects himself to you on a level that transcends the basic intimacy of sex. 

“I know, baby. God, you’re so tight. Ah, shit…” Marcus groans, eyes rolling back. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, your tongue slipping into his mouth as he moves. Hips languidly rotating and thrusting slowly as he bottoms out.  

You cry out when he does, fingers gripping into flesh, hot pants sinking into his pores. 

“Can you feel me, right there?” He gasps, pushing himself as deep into you as he’ll go. 

“Yes… God, yes!” 

He watches as your eyes squeeze shut, how your teeth bite down on your lip as you moan and pant; feels how you clench tighter and more erratically around him the closer you get to your orgasm. 

Your mouth chases his fingers, open and wanting as his thumb brushes down the side of your cheek and over your lips. Gentle, rhythmic strokes become harder and deeper as he’s utterly possessed by you, eyes rolling back and jaw slack as you feel every inch of him.

He squeezes over your ass, thighs, breasts, staring at you, completely captivated. 

“You wanna ride me?” Marcus suggests with a coy smirk and apple flushed cheeks. 

“God yes!” You hum excitedly.

You straddle him again and lower yourself down, his cock packing you out once more. 

“Oh shit, Marcus!”

“Sweetheart-” he groans as you sit all the way down.

“Oh my God, that’s so deep,” you whine, your hands clawing at his chest. 

You start to move, feeling so full and he groans looking up at you. 

“Oh fuck, just like that,” he whines.

He feels incredible, looks stunning with his head thrown back on the couch as his cheeks keep that gorgeous pink hue and his rich cocoa eyes look deeply into you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” His fingers are felt on the back of your bare head, stroking softly as he kisses you. And it feels incredible to have him touch you so intimately like this. 

You lick into his mouth making him smile and grunt as you ride a bit faster, his cock hitting you so deep with each movement. 

He groans out when he feels you come around him, squeezing his cock tighter and making him work harder through it. Squeezing and contracting as your slick soaks him. 

“God, you’re even more beautiful when you’re coming all over my cock,” he puffs. 

“You’re amazing,” you pant.

“It’s all you, sweetheart. Trust me.” Marcus groans. “Can you take it a little harder?”

“I’ll take it anyway you want to give it to me.” You smile. 

“Oh, baby.” He fucks up into you harder, loud repetitive slaps fill the lounge along with your sweet, caustic whines as you build. “There are so many ways I wanna give to you.”

“Tell me,” you hum. 

He smirks before licking across your nipple, eyes looking up at you the whole time. “From behind… up against the wall… on the kitchen counter.”

“Mmm,” you whine. You reach down to stroke your clit, gasping as your fingers swirl around in the immense wetness down there. 

“Mmm, fuck.” He groans watching you do it as he continues to push up into you. “Yeah. Stroke that gorgeous clit for me,” he grunts. 

“How else do you want me?” You pant.

You can feel it, rising in your chest, glittering behind your eyes. The building as your peak finds you amongst the heady bliss. 

“In the back of my car… handcuffed to my bed railing and unable to escape while I taste you for hours…” 

“Fuck!” Your legs start to shake once more, your back arching and your breasts pushed further towards his face. You lean back, gripping onto his thighs, hips bouncing as you chase that feeling so gluttonously.

“Look at me, let me see you come again, beautiful.”

It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you, his eyes filled with so much adoration that it threatens to spill out of your own.

He gasps, panting with you, enthralled and enraptured as you come undone completely around him, and he swears he's never seen anything more stunning in his life.

He absorbs that moment wholly, when the euphoria takes over your face, as your raspy yells of his name fall into silk whispers around his face. How you continue to bounce with fervour on his cock long after the shakes have dissipated from your bones. 

“That’s it, that’s it… Oh God!” Marcus whispers, mouth curving into an astonished arc as that dimple reveals itself again. “You’re gonna make me come, sweetheart.”

“I want you to.” You whisper. "Come for me, Marcus."

“Can I come inside you?”

You nod as you press your mouth to his, swallowing his tongue as his grip tightens around you.

He slows right down, sliding up into you with deep, purposeful strokes and you feel him twitch before he groans out, long and low as he comes. 

Marcus pulls out, watching the pearly white fluid drip out of you, gathering it on his pulsing head and slips it back inside you. 

You both mewl together as he does it, his face falling into your chest and sighing out. 

“Wow…”

“Yeah.” You agree breathlessly. 

“Stunning,” Marcus whispers as he runs his nose up your cheek and plants another kiss against your smooth crown. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

You smile, eyelashes fluttering against his jaw as you wrap him tightly in your arms, never wanting to let him go.

You know that right here, in this moment and held in the safety of his arms, you’ve found something truly special. 

“You still wanna stay?” He asks you. 

You nod, smiling with a satiated beam. “If you’ll have me?”

“I’ll always have you. And I’ll always want you.” Marcus says.

The cap feels so soft and silken against your skin as you nestle down into the soft pillows, and watch Marcus come back in from the bathroom.

Gloriously naked and crawling up the bed, he trails kisses up your legs, stomach and neck until he reaches your lips. 

“Looks really good on you,” he compliments and you smile. 

“Thank you again,” you say, pulling him close. 

“Anything for you. I can’t wait to wake up with you in the morning,” he yawns, a lone finger trailing the rim of your cap and down your cheek. 

“Flaking out on me already, Agent?” You smirk as you wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mmm, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” Marcus grins, nuzzling into your neck and sucking it gently into his mouth.

He relaxes against you as you stroke patterns over his broad back. 

This feels good. Really good. A feeling you definitely want to get used to as you take in the feel of him crushed on top of you, arms holding you close, his hair tickling the bottom of your jaw.

This right here, is all you’ve ever wanted. And Marcus is willing to give it all to you. You feel like you've hit the jackpot and can’t stop grinning. 

“Marcus?” You whisper.

“Mmm?” He sighs softly. 

“Thank you for accepting the real me.” 

The gentle snuffles of his light snores soon fill the room and you beam, reaching up to stroke over the silk of the cap, smiling at how you’ve found such a caring and thoughtful man who thinks you’re incredibly beautiful.

And as you drift off to sleep, you're convinced you hear him whisper to you:"I love the real you..."

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Marcus, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #bodies series #real bodies #diversity #inclusivity #every body is beautiful #jett's writing

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! In one of your previous posts you mentioned the game purposefully hiding the faces of figures who play a significant role in each OB boy’s trauma. So do you think this applies to Idia's parents as well (they have masks to cover their faces and they don't even have separate sprites but the default STYX members' sprites)?

[Referencing this post!]

There’s a lot to unpack here, so I’ve put my thoughts under the cut!! I hope you enjoy reading ^^

***Note: Many spoilers for books 6 + 7 of the main story!!***

I definitely wouldn’t put the Shroud parents into the same category as like… Mrs. Rosehearts, who was basically the origin from which other issues stemmed. The Shroud parents themselves were not the “root cause” for Idia’s trauma, the “cause” was Ortho’s death and Idia feeling immense guilt and shame about it. Not once has Idia blamed his parents or implicated them for this misfortune (not counting the Shroud curse, which is really the fault of their ancestors and not the Shroud parents in particular). I guess where some fans feel there is an issue is the implication that the Shroud parents did not seem to be there emotionally for Idia or offer him healthy coping mechanisms for his issue??

Before I give my thoughts on why the Shroud mom and dad obscure their faces (and how this does or doesn’t fit into the “purposefully obscuring the faces of those significantly related to each boy’s trauma), allow me to offer a different perspective to those who find fault with Idia’s parents. Firstly, consider that we know very little about the period of time between Ortho’s death leading up to Idia enrolling at NRC. Even then, most of what we know of this period comes directly from Idia, which provides us with a biased and limited perspective. Idia views most things negatively and does not seem close with his parents, so it makes sense that he would describe them in an inflated and unflattering way.

I think where a lot of the initial thoughts about the Shrouds being bad parents (a sentiment I myself had prior to their book 7 reveals) predominantly comes from them not being present in Idia’s post-OB flashback and Idia stating that his parents care more about results than their son’s feelings. We also learn from later that the family used to go out a lot as a group, but those trips stopped after Ortho died. These heavily imply his mom and dad were not there for Idia after the… incident. But let’s back up for a moment; where does the flashback pick up after Ortho died? Over two years later. That’s a large gap to not be knowing what the Shroud parents were doing during it. The STYX employees present also state that Idia has “completely withdrawn” ever losing Ortho, and this could be inclusive of the parents. So… we don’t really know for sure if, during this expanse of 2 years, the parents never made an effort to reach out. Even if they did, it seems highly likely that Idia rejected them. It’s possible that the flashback didn’t feature the parents because Idia largely shut them out of his life or did not deem them to be deeply linked to his trauma; he laments only the general family curse and the loss of Ortho, he does not direct hate at either parent in the flashback.

What we also have to remember is that it wasn’t just Idia that lost a brother that terrible day. Mr. and Mrs. Shroud their sons; Ortho literally (he passed away) and Idia figuratively (as he started to emotionally distance and isolate himself). That’s tough for any parent, but the world cannot stop for them just because they experienced a tragedy. Unfortunately, life moves on and the Shroud parents are in such important positions that they need to work. This is especially true of Mr. Shroud, who oversees all of STYX operations and is burdened with a curse that demands he constantly be surrounded by blot or else the curse will start to chip away at his own magical energy. They need to do this while juggling their own sadness over losing Ortho. There’s only so much time the Shroud parents can try to comfort Idia when they have work, their own emotional trauma to work through, and their surviving son who doesn’t seem to welcome any efforts they put in. You could even theorize that the Shroud parents (particularly the dad) threw themselves into work to try and bury their own feelings. The Shrouds do obviously have a responsibility to Idia as his parents, but parenting is not so easy of a task. They’re still individuals who have other things to balance alongside parenting and they realistically cannot dedicate 100% of their time or energy to Idia.

Now, please do not misunderstand me. I don’t want my words to come off like I’m pointing fingers or victim blaming. What I’m trying to say here is that it isn’t Idia OR his parents’ fault that they grew distant; to me, both parties were busy dealing with their own complicated emotions and their coping methods didn’t seem to align (because different people can have very different trauma responses) and ended up hurting Idia even more in the end. Making mistakes is human and normal. We've seen other characters also falter with their past actions and what they were or were not able to do at the time (Trey not standing up for or to Riddle, Lilia acting callously towards his children, etc.). This by itself is NOT necessarily a bad thing or something to hate on them for; I'd argue that what matters much more is how those matters were dealt with and what the results of those efforts have been. In the case of the Shroud parents, they do not appear to have bad blood with Idia or Ortho in modern day and the game has really done little to indicate that the Shroud parents should be viewed in a morally grey light. They've welcomed Ortho as a part of their family, openly refer to him like a third son, supported his official enrollment as a NRC student, and worry about his safety when Ortho tries to rush headfirst into danger. As for Idia, though he sometimes grumbles about his parents and tends to their actions as coming from a place of not caring, his peers have pointed out that being scolded is proof of his parents’ love for him. For example, Idia complains that his parents have sent him back to NRC so they don’t have to deal with a “nuisance” like him. He also says that there has been public interest in STYX and demand for accountability, which has specifically put his father under fire. We could view the situation like Idia has—that has parents wanted him out of their way. However, as Rook so tactfully pointed out, Idia’s parents must hold deep affection for him. This implies that the Shrouds chose to send Idia back to school for his own safety, and Mr. Shroud was willing to take the full brunt of the heat himself rather than let people suspect his son, whom Mr. Shroud must know is socially anxious. Idia has plenty of other stories about how his parents punished him for dangerous tech modifications he made, and how they’d take away his gadgets as punishment. Again, because they care about their children and their safety, even if they (especially his more stern and work-oriented father) may not show it in conventionally affectionate ways. Idia has pessimistic views that color his parents as annoying and isn’t as close to them anymore as he used to be, but this doesn’t condemn the Shrouds to the eternal hall of bad parents who never ever learn or refuse to change their ways.

Now, about their outfits! Mr. and Mrs. Shroud wear the same robes as NPC staff at STYX. This much is true!! … But I don’t think there is any deep meaning in this, seeing as Idia too wears the same robes?? I believe this is just the default work uniform for STYX researchers, regardless of the position they’re in (so this uniform detail does not technically contribute to the “intentional obscuring” of the Shroud parents’ designs).

We don’t really know what the reason for them wearing the helmets is, and nor is there very strong implication as to why. There have been plenty of fan speculations and theories including but not limited to: special personal protective equipment, magical enhancement gear, general Shroud family shyness, cost/time saving measure for the devs, etc. I can’t really say one way or another which is the “most correct” idea 🤷‍♂️

What I will say is that I do not think there was an intent to hide the Shroud parents’ faces for the same reasons that Mrs. Rosehearts’ face was. Why? Well:

Their faces are not censored in the same way as Mrs. Rosehearts was in the manga; she has her face shaded out by black, but we can still see the details of her outfit. The Shrouds, meanwhile are making the conscious decision to wear helmets—and highly personalized helmets at that. (Mr. Shroud’s helmet is different in colors and design than Mrs. Shroud’s.) This indicates individuality and wanting to make the Shroud parents stand out, not to homogenize them as anonymous black blots at which the OB boys’ trauma finds its roots.

To build off of my previous point, the comment about purposefully obscuring the face of the "source" of Riddle's trauma was ONLY said in the context of the manga, NOT the game. Therefore, in-game assets cannot be considered reliable for "the Shroud parents wear helmets to hise their faces; hidden faces = source of an OB boy's trauma" theory. If you doubt this, then please refer to each boy’s post-OB flashback. In the game, it is not just the sources of their trauma that are blotted out in black, it is literally every character (even the ones with positive memories or experiences associated with them). This includes Trey and Che’nya, whose younger form faces ARE openly depicted in the manga. So again, the “obscuring the faces of characters who are major trauma sources” thing only applies to the manga and the game does not follow this.

The Shrouds are largely depicted in a positive light. The negative aspects of them tend to come from Idia, who tends to have a pessimistic slant to his perception of the world and other people.

Idia’s personal accounts and even his post-OB flashbacks do not attribute or credit his parents for any aspect of his trauma. Much of the guilt and shame he feels is self-imposed and directed at himself.

As I’ve pointed out earlier in this post, we are assuming a lot of things about what happened in Idia’s life following Ortho’s death. The downside to this is that it doesn’t grant the parents any grace and takes everything we see (as little as it is) at face value without considering alternatives or how the parents could have changed in recent years.

Again, we don’t have a lot of information on why the Shrouds wear the helmets. I don’t think it’s wise to assume it’s for a bad reason when most of the canon has indicated we are supposed to “like” the Shrouds (or, at the very least, they’re supposed to be “redeemed” compared to the initially negative comment we were given of them).

In conclusion: no, I don’t think Idia’s parents are wearing their helmets because they’re associated with their son’s trauma. To me, the helmets feel like something they must wear for some in-universe purpose such as additional protection or to indicate their role within the organization.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Idia Shroud #Ignihyde #Ortho Shroud #book 6 spoilers #book 7 spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga #Trey Clover #Che’nya #Chenya

[sgiandubh]

The lonesome fitness girl - really?

This is a story about a nameless female fitness influencer somewhere in the world. She gives the impression of a lonely „ fighter“ in her business and in her life overall.

That is nonsense - she sells her "destiny" very skilfully. I am convinced she is not a lonely woman behind her influencer profile. But that is exactly the impression she wants to convey and she does so publicly with some success.  This is her unique selling point right now and whoever manages or advises her has recognised this very well. In other words, a narrative is created very carefully and very purposefully.  Sounds somehow familiar? 

There are thousands and thousands of fitness influencers, so it is important for everyone in this business to find the niche that generates followers, clicks and in the end it means an income. Simply performing an exercise is not enough. Every click or like on a post or a story generates a few dollars, euros or pounds in revenue.

And an increase in the number of followers by approx. 80,000-100,000 due to a connection to a famous person will raise the income as well. For the record: people like her are so called macro influencer and are a brand. That is a fact - you can find a lot more information about this in various publications by experts in business administration and marketing.

You have to attract attention, something that our nameless fitness girl has done in different ways over the years. Firstly with her partner at the time, later she created the image of a single fitness mum. And at the moment she is promoting the image of a woman who is finding her way back after an illness with a great deal of commitment and determination. 

But fitness girl was legitimately afraid of loosing her income if she was not able to work. And her body is her work. This led probably her and her team to the conclusion that she needed "visible support" at this point in order to continue operating her business model during the recovery.  And her job is being fitness model. No more and no less.

And right on time, a famous actor with a closeness to fitness programmes or probably rather his team came in. Now she seems to get into contact with his presumably more influential and well-connected fitness circles. And, purely by chance, she is building up an online fitness course. All on her own and while she looks after the rest of her business(es?) - and cares for her family. Hopefully she gets enough sleep? Probably not, which is hardly surprising considering her workload with all her duties and work obligations towards her partners. Fortunately, just like in fairy tales, there is a wonderful magic wand for this - Instagram filter.

The story really is getting better and better...

Add some well-planned (sometimes "almost") encounters at various competition venues between the two main characters.

The fitness girl, her business and her story truly seem impressive? Only if you believe in fairy tales.

Too many coincidences at once, it looks like a well established business deal, too scripted? No - just keep it simple to feed the narrative of the "lonely fitness girl"! Or is she "The girl who never sleeps"? Nobody knows for sure.

But she is most likely not the woman she pretends to be...

Dear Lonesome Fitness Girl Anon,

In an ocean of infantile, mendacious, shite-stirring Anons, your submission is absolutely STELLAR!

Whoever you are, I can tell by the ease of your logical deductions that you mean serious business and you are not easy to fool, either. Just what we happen to love, in this particular corner of this fandom.

I am totally thrilled to share with all of us this rare gem, Anon. Especially today.

You are more than welcome to hit this page anytime. It takes a pro to know a pro. Consider me a friend, Anon: you have instantly become one to me, and I bet not only to me.

Everyone, a round of applause for our unexpected guest!

#anon #fandom #shitshow #London Hyrox 2024

[comradekatara]

I meant Hama and Katara... But thank you for the Kanna & Katara Link. I'll go theough it.

ohhh yes i obviously have so many thoughts on hama and katara as well..... hama is the embodiment of who katara could have become had a) her circumstances been slightly different (and worse) and b) had she had less emotional strength & resilience & desire to cling to her own humanity at all costs. like, the fact that katara gets multiple figures who embody the terror of her submitting to her most vengeful instincts and perpetuating the cycle of violence instead of working to end it is honestly quite beautiful, as that tension culminates in "the southern raiders" and katara lets herself prioritize her own humanity over her pain and rage and (totally justified) desire for revenge.

i know a lot of people think that hama and jet are the most politically confused aspects of the show, since they do play into the thing lok does where it's like "all oppressed peoples who employ radical means of resistance are simply cackling mustache-twirling terrorists," and while i do think that the way hama is framed at the end of "the puppetmaster" is in poor taste and lacks nuance, it's also pretty clear to me that a) their trauma is portrayed as sympathetic b) their stories are depicted as tragedies and c) atla doesn't actually demonize violent methods of resistance. like if katara wasn't literally the main character i'd feel much more comfortable making that critique (because lok does do this and it's liberal bullshit and it sucks), but we see katara use violent means of resistance as early as episode 6 of the whole show. she's literally framed as a hero for doing ecoterrorism; even when she's actually in the wrong in that situation, her desire to do whatever it takes to help people and encourage them to fight back against their oppressors is celebrated unconditionally.

the lesson katara has to learn from them is that she must never let her anger and desire for revenge consume her over her love for humanity and her drive to help people. jet and hama are both deeply traumatized in a way that made them prioritize wanting to wield power over others in the same way that they were once made vulnerable and helpless, and katara recognizes that instinct in herself too, that instinct in every person who has been subjected to that degree of violence. hama targets fire nation civilians out of spite, because she was once a regular girl from the southern water tribe who was targeted for reasons beyond her control, made to fight and treated like a villain. the reason she goes after "regular people" instead of targeting actual combatants is specifically because she knows that if the roles were reversed, the fire nation wouldn't care about differentiating her people in those roles; she's giving them a taste of their own medicine.

she used to be a resistance fighter who fought back against the imperialists on her land with everything she had, and it didn't work. she suffered unimaginable horrors, and in the process discovered an ability that would allow her to make others suffered the way she did. no, she's not a good leftist or whatever, but her motivation is understandable. she's driven by pain, not reason, just as katara and zuko are in "the southern raiders," just as aang is in "the desert" when he loses appa, just as sokka is in "the boiling rock." when one is hurting that badly, the desire to ease one's pain supersedes logic, supersedes one's core values in general, the values of grief taking its place. hama has been grieving her entire life; whoever she was before the raids is gone, and now she is someone shaped wholly by pain. and had katara not met hama, been traumatized by her, and thus vowed never to be like her, who knows whether she would have had the ability to take a step back and recognize within herself that she is standing over that precipice, and instead walk away from the threshold of violence, and back towards herself.

#ariadnesweb #asks #katara #hama #hama&katara #analysis #hama is kind of katara's sokka.... in the sense that sokka is aang's hama..... #they both have such similar struggles and are able to understand each other on a very profound level #but also must never submit to the logic that propels them become who sokka/hama already are #obviously hama's circumstance is more extreme #but both aang and katara must recognize their own humanity and never let themselves sink into the pain and be driven by it fully #whereas hama and sokka have already abandoned their humanity #in different ways. but still #that's for another post i guess #remind me to talk about sokka azula aang trio sometime #bc its crazy. #anyway i think i find hama more effective than jet to communicate this aspect of kataras arc #because hama is an elder of her tribe and she can bond with her in this incredibly special and culturally meaningful way #whereas jet is kind of just like. what if haru was an asshole #so uhhhh..... sure i guess #but we already know and like haru. so he's just kind of boring to me #whereas hama is awesome and i love her so much <3333 #(t shit that says in giant letters no one can tell im a dyke...)

[ichayalovesyou]

Why Do Old-School TV Duos Have SUCH MLM Vibes?!

I think there’s something very specific about the formula and writing style of non-serialized/semi-serialized shows from the 60s to 80s that featured two grown men going on wacky dangerous adventures that makes my gay little literary analysis brain go absolutely off the wall bonkers. I’m trying to figure out why!

I’m writing this on my Trek blog because I don’t think this pattern in people actually shipping these types of relationships the way they do if fandom as we know it wasn’t born via TOS in syndication. That being said! I also think it has to do with the way these shows are designed that makes myself and others OBSESSED with a specific character dynamic that feels (to me) damn near impossible to replicate in modern television. In a way that’s more than just fandom, it’s in the way TV like this was written at the time!

Further explanation under the cut!

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

I think what it usually boils down to is this. There’s a charming protagonist whom without the series could not operate, frequently top billed or the title character! (See: Wild Wild West, Starsky & Hutch) BUT he doesn’t have anyone to play off of! So what do they do pretty much every single time? Give Mr. Idealized Vision of Time-Period Masculinity For Genre a second guy to rhyme with!

See but the other guy has to play opposite but parallel to our hypermasculine protagonist. So what frequently ends up happening is that in order to play off our “normal” guy, even though he’s also a white dude, is that he’s still somehow Other.

They’re always perfect for each other, and they always get into scenarios that would be written, shot and interpreted by conventional audiences as romantic IF either one of those characters were a woman! Especially at the time these shows were made in.

If the one is aggressive, the other is gentle. If the protagonist is violent, his counterpart is intellectual. If the one is stoic, the other is emotional. Which (while one size def doesn’t fit all) usually makes the second guy come off as much more queer-coded (and sometimes other minorities like neurodivergent/disabled etc) than the other because of the traits associated with masculinity vs gayness at the time! Our prime examples in these gifs are Spock, Hutch, Artemus, and also *BJ!

*(M*A*S*H is a bit of a unique case since the show flirts with queerness more openly in ways that people more into the series have explained better than me but I think it still fits the formula I’m discussing.)

Here’s the thing though right? We’ve got two best friends, and the show NEVER really feels right if one of them is missing unless the focus of the story is how A & B operate without each other while trying to find the other one. They stick with and rescue each other unfailingly in scenarios that might destroy a regular friendship.

Hell, there’s often stuff that would emotionally/physically destroy a regular person/character in modern media. But because it’s not serialized they always seem to pull through seemingly through the power of friendship alone or dealing with it off-screen! Emotional consequences? Yuck! (Unless it’s M*A*S*H or Starsky & Hutch, like I said, not monolithic)

Here’s the thing that some people might say throws a wrench into the interpretation I’m discussing. What about the absolutely non-stop parade of conventionally attractive women the main protagonist (and less frequently the supporting man) goes through?

I would reply: how many of those female characters actually emotionally impact our protagonists as characters long term?

The answer is of course, because it’s NOT serialized, almost none! Kirk can watch Edith Keeler get killed by a car accident and still be making eyes at Spock the next episode. Hawkeye can have a “life changing” romance with a Vietnamese humanitarian woman, then share a blanket with BJ next episode like she never existed!

The Doylist explanation of course is not just the fact it wasn’t serialized but also just, constant, blatant 20th century sexism. Which SUCKS!!! As well as not wanting a long term love interest to throw off the character dynamic of our duderagonists. It’s the 20th century tv equivalent of bros before hoes.

However the Watsonian explanation always seems to result in no love interest EVER being more important than what the two protagonists have no matter whether you think they’re queer or not. No attractive woman could make our reputed babe-hound protagonist abandon his buddy. There’s no earnest romance our more queer-coded supporting man doesn’t end (or get ended for him) often for the protagonist’s sake.

Now some of these women are incredibly well written and straight up GOOD matches for our guys. So why wouldn’t they get involved in something long term UNLESS!! They were in love with each other the WHOLE time?

What if protagonist (frequently the babe hound) doesnt know he’s queer, or knows but doesn’t know he’s in love with his bestie, or any number of similar fruity explanations? The supporting man also runs into this explanation but people tend to believe he’s already aware that he’s queer but either also doesn’t know he’s in love or is keeping it to himself because time-period homophobia and/or thinking (probably not unreasonably) that babe hound is straight?

Between the inherent closeness of being narrative foils. The regularly scheduled life or death drama creating sometimes insanely romantic (in the narrative if not a literal sense) drama between the two. The revolving door of weekly women they never seem to get attached to enough to leave one another. The non-serialized nature resulting in sparse personal information/history about the protagonists as a result.

I think between the very NATURE of the way tv shows were written at the time. Plus the way fandom was shaped by a dynamic that has rippled through how media works and is interpreted by fans for decades upon decades. It’s not hard to imagine getting really emotionally invested in the possibility of the protagonists being in love is a fantastic way to enjoy the media!

In conclusion, it’s really fun and easy to go “these bitches gay! Good for them good for them!”

#Star Trek #star trek the original series #Star Trek tos #tos #james kirk #Spock #spirk #k/s #James west #Artemus Gordon #wild wild west #Jim west/artemus Gordon #m*a*s*h #hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #Hawkeye/bj #Hawkeye/trapper #starsky and hutch #starsky/hutch #ken hutchinson #dave starsky #vintage television #queer #lgbt #gay #meta #meta analysis #queer analysis #queer representation #mlm

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for telling my mom not to invite grandma to my dead dad’s birthday dinner?

For context, my (19M) dad (44M) died in January of ‘24. He was a dick and I don’t miss him, but he was my mom (46F)’s husband and I’ve been there for her through the grieving process. Unfortunately, Mom’s mother (80F) has taken over my mom’s grief and has made it about her.

For what I mean, it’s that Grandma wouldn’t let my mom stand next to my dad as he was dying in the hospital bed from jaundice and cancer, was praying very loudly that her son-in-law would get better and putting her hands all over my dad’s chest, kept comparing what my dad was going through to how her 7th husband died back in ‘09 (also cancer but not the same), and overall was just obnoxious during the worst moment of my Mom’s life.

This isn’t a new thing for grandma to do. Grandma is just a dick. She’s openly racist against Asian people, she’s stupidly Homophobic (but not towards me because I’m family and I’m ber favoritr grandkid because I’m not afraid to talk smack about people who get on my nerves. barf.), and any achievement that my Mom receives, Grandma has a story about how she won something even better.

It has gotten worse when my Mom’s dad (85M) moved in with us for health reasons. Grandpa was Grandma’s 3rd husband and their marriage didn’t end amicably. Still, it’s been 40 years and Mom wants a relationship with her dad. Grandma HATES him. Constantly yelling at him for forgetting things when she comes over, brags about being there for us grandkids (I have two younger sisters) when we were little, and overall is just plain rude. My dad used to be able to just tell her to leave, but now that he’s gone, he can’t.

Well, last week would have been my dad’s 45th birthday. Mom wanted to celebrate by taking me and my youngest sister (the older sister just moved out for college and is across the country) to Dad’s favorite restaurant. As we were leaving, Mom was stressing very heavily about not inviting Grandma or Grandpa. She stressed about Grandpa because he often forgets to eat dinner and she stressed about Grandma because the old bitch has flamed my mom on Facebook for not being invited to events before, even though my mom knew that Grandma wouldn’t like those events (think late night soccer games, plays where I’m not a main role/has an 18+ theme, etc. stuff an old Christian woman who hates driving at night would hate)

I told Mom not to invite either grandparent and that the three of us (me, Mom, and little sister) should just go alone and enjoy some immediate family time. We did and we had a great time, talking with my little sister about her high school classes, talking shit about my mom’s coworkers, and me getting to infodump about Fallout because my mom just watched the tv show.

Towards the end of the night, my Mom gets a text from Grandma asking what we were up to for Dad’s birthday. I tell Mom not to answer and she doesn’t. Grandma then sends Mom a screenshot of the family Life360 map and starts sending walls off texts saying how hurt she is that she wasn’t invited, how neglected she is, how awful it is that she can’t spend time with the grandkids anymore, how Mom always prioritizes Grandpa over Grandma (he wasn’t even with us?) and shit like that. I take Mom’s phone and block Grandma for her since she’s sitting next to me, frozen and locked-up.

It’s been a week now and we haven’t spoken to Grandma. That’s fine by me, but I can see that my Mom is upset and regrets how the dinner went.

Here’s where I may be the asshole:

I was the one who said not to invite Grandma

I was the one who blocked Grandma

I butted my head into my Mom and Grandma’s relationship

Here’s why I think I’m not:

My mom has never been good at standing up for herself

My mom shouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit while grieving her fucking husband of 22 years

Not everything is about Grandma. She inserts herself into everything needlessly

TL;DR: Dad died. Went to dinner with my mom and sister to celebrate his birthday. Grandma found out and bitched a fit that she wasn’t invited. I took mom’s phone and blocked her. Now mom is stressing about losing her relationship with grandma. Aita?

#aita #am i the asshole