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mzminola · 1 year

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Brentwood arc is giving me more thoughts on Steph & Bruce being similar to each other, specifically in their interpersonal relationships.

So I either misremembered or just plain old missed the first time around reading this section, but Stephanie does tell Tim she thinks he’s cheating on him: she calls him a “two-timing louse” to his face, and there’s not really any way for him to interpret that other than that she thinks he’s cheating on her.

What Steph doesn’t do is tell him WHY she doesn’t believe his denial.

Spoiler sees Robin worried about Star, he points out the problem is that there’s a weapons deal going down. She calls him a two-timing louse, he says Star “is just a friend”, and that the situation “is complicated...” and Steph cuts in with “I know. The ‘secret identity’ thing. Well, keep your secrets. In fact, keep your life to yourself.”

Which, honestly, reads as a break-up to me. It reads as Steph dumping Tim, which is reasonable if she can’t bring herself to believe him!

A recurring thread in Tim’s comics is that being Robin makes him a lousy boyfriend. Whether he’s dating a civilian or another cape, he can’t be open about the other parts of his life, he’s tired all the time so he falls asleep on dates (along with in class), and at the end of the day, he’s always* going to prioritize Robin.

[*Haven’t gotten there yet, but much later when he does try to prioritize a date with Zoanne, Batman literally crashes it. So. Uh. Bruce what the fuck.]

In this case, Tim has come back to Gotham but been moved to a boarding school, and won’t tell Steph that. Won’t explain why his Robin hours are limited, why he can’t drive anymore, how he knows the civilians he knows, etc, because of two reasons: One, he’s worried any information he gives her, no matter how vague, will lead to her learning his secret identity, which is tied to several other heroes as well. Two, for his own sanity, he’s trying to keep Robin and Tim as separate as he can, because recently they’ve been converging more and it’s freaking him out.

Tim is not always the best at interpreting meaning if it isn’t direct, at least when it comes to his own relationships rather than analyzing other people, so he keeps thinking of Steph as his girlfriend after the above conversation and trying to talk to her. She rebuffs the attempts, which is, again, reasonable if she’s dumped him.

The problem is that, it turns out, Steph hasn’t dumped Tim in her view, either. She decides she’s “waiting for him to come clean”, and later when she stops rejecting him, she doesn’t think of it as “getting back together”, just as things “working out”.

Before that, Steph decides to stalk Tim and Star in order to learn his civilian identity, an action which she describes (out loud! to Tito, when she thinks he’s Tim!) “Now I have something on you. How’s it feel?”

Stephanie knows Tim wants to keep the two parts of his life separate; it was literally a condition of them dating, and a few days or weeks before this all went down they had this dialogue exchange:

Tim: “There’s a lot of changes in my private life, Steph.”

Steph: “The part I can’t know about.”

Tim: “I’m sorry about that, too.”

Steph: “I told you I’m cool with that.”

And now, a handful of issues later, she isn’t cool with that. Which is also reasonable! People get to change their minds about comfort levels in a relationship! Except that she doesn’t have an honest conversation about it with him, because she’s already decided he’s a cheater. Nor does she decide “welp, the condition of dating was not knowing his identity, and I’m no longer okay with that, therefore we will no longer date.”

So similarities we see between Stephanie and Bruce in this arc...

Once they’ve reached a conclusion, they’re very hard to persuade otherwise, and extremely unwilling to take others at their word.

Relationships have to be on their terms; whether they follow the other person’s boundaries is based on their own whims, they don’t actually respect those boundaries.

They tend to shut down communication when angry or upset; that’s a common stress response for most people! But when paired with the ability to still make and carry out elaborate schemes, it comes across less as emotional-stress-induced-difficulty, and more either a punishment for the people they’re upset with, or an unreasonable expectation that the other person should be a mind reader.

They’re more comfortable when they have leverage over someone.

All the Bats have similarities to each other (if they didn’t, they’d be in some other comic), but it’s interesting to see how those similarities play out sometime.

#min reads comics #DC #Batfam #Robin 1993 #Brentwood arc #Stephanie Brown #Stephanie Brown Critical #Bruce Wayne Critical #comics meta

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fanfictiondreamscape · 2 years

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When You Tower Over Your Boyfriend

Request: Can I please request a imagine with Yuri Plisetsky where he has a girlfriend that is taller than him (put don't tease him about that) and she loves to pamper him?

Title: When You Tower Over Your Boyfriend

Genre: mega fluff. seriously. if your teeth haven't rotted by the end of this, then you're lying

Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky x Fem!Reader

Notes: This is so cute, istg- I'm just imagining Yuri doing things to grab his girl's attention and there's so much room for comedy. I love it!

(I would also like to mention that this gave me a really well-needed break from homework because it’s kind of overwhelming and this was really sweet-)

Either way, this is probably gonna come out a little later than I would like it to. I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy it either way! I tried to incorporate multiple points for comedy to come intact as well as a few in which it could be calmer.

Below the cut!

let’s cover the basics here:

1. he wouldn’t really care about how tall you are. like at all.

(at most, it’s an afterthought)

2. even if he did, he finds your height attractive.

3. that, and the fact that you avoid doing anything that many others have tried to do regarding his height.

(i imagine you being somewhere between 5′11″ and 6′5″)

(like seriously taller than him)

yurio knows that he is far from the tallest, he really does

and it doesn’t help being reminded of it by people that tower over him constantly

the short jokes get overwhelming sometimes, though

(half of the people that crack these jokes don’t make it out without being scared either way-)

so, while your height won’t matter too much to him, what others view it as might

in fact, i can see him freaking out about small things that he can’t reach

he wants to help you, but he wants to do so by being a little cliche

(mostly due to that being about all he knows about romance and dating, but i digress)

the roses and candies and fancy dates are typical, but then there’s the domestic stuff

and the romantic idea of reaching above your girlfriend and grabbing something that she’s too short to reach

or even laying your head on theirs

leaning down to give them a forehead kiss....

in this case, he starts cussing like a mad man since he can’t really do that

it is only slightly endearing

(you’ve had to keep him calm on multiple occassions)

it isn’t like these things don’t happen, but the roles are reversed.

you are the one grabbing the items

you are the one that lays your head on top of his

you are the one that has to lean down to give him a forehead kiss

to the people around you, it’s slightly comical

(and realistically, it appears that way)

but no matter, you see it as it is: he’s your boyfriend, and you wanna be sweet to him

in fact, your height has become quite the helpful thing on more than one occassion

so, it may be obvious, but you go to every single one of his competitions and most of his practices

(within reason, of course)

we saw how he gets when he practices.

we saw how he pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and keeps pushing until he can’t anymore.

and we also saw how much the people around him either continued to enable him overworking himself or ignored it (almost) completely

and there are the days where he needs a little ego boost

that’s where you come in

your height is very obvious in the crowds, even through the blinding lights and reflections of ice

you’re the one person that sits as close as you can and still manage to stand up and cheer the loudest for him

(we love a supportive partner!!!)

you’re also the one to help him when he is sent on errands

but the best thing to come from your height are the cuddles

especially after a long day of skating and working and existing

when he’s dead tired (and frankly unwilling to deal with people), he goes to you

whether you’re at his place or not, he goes to you.

even if you’re working, can you guess where he’s gonna go?

your height is probably one of the best things to him, especially during those moments

when you dote on him is when he straight up melts

(it’s even funnier in public)

one time that he was e c s t a t i c that you were there was right after he broke down on the ice during his free skate program

he goes through, does everything peachy, then falls

he gets back up, of course, and does the remainder of the program flawlessly

but then he breaks down on the ice

(we all know what i’m talking about)

(i know that’s a fact)

you want to run to the kiss and cry as soon as you can

you want to cradle him as soon as you can

but he’s stuck on the ice for a while after and you can’t catch him until he’s completely done, gold medal and all

running to reach him, you find him in his costume with the medal draped around his neck

the hug hit him immediately and you started to spew concerns left and right

“what happened out there?”

“are you okay?”

“did you get hurt?”

he was on the verge of tears for the third time that day

as per usual, your head was resting on top of his

and even though the public (and other skaters) were able to see everything, he hugged you back

tightly.

seriously.

(but so were you, so koala hugs were returned with koala hugs)

“i won the grand prix, (y/n), i won. i won gold.”

“i know, baby, i saw! i’m so proud of you!”

aaaand cue the tears

yep, the famous ice tiger of russia was seen essentially bawling into his partner’s chest

a few of the skaters found it endearing, and frankly, very cute

but others were so zeroed in on the fact that you were so. much. taller. than him.

“yurio!”

“who is that? dude, they’re gigantic!”

“are they together? cute.”

yuri was more focused on you and making sure that you were okay after he was done crying.

“is you shirt stained?”

“yeah, but that’s whatever. you won! you’re okay, though? really?”

the shorter blonde boy wiped the tear tracks away and smiled

an actual smile, too.

the paparazzi would not get enough of it if they were to have seen it

hell, the skaters did, too

(phichit was taking pictures and victor was crying at the sight of you two)

(it was on yuuri’s shoulder’s to reel them in)

(that was a whole other mess)

yuri only broke from the hug when you leaned down to kiss his head

he was blushing

and the people around you both gushed.

‘aww’ was the most common sound for a good minute or two

and then yuri was made aware of the people around him

“what are you staring at?!”

you were laughing

yuri looked like a tomato

(and it only got worse when you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your chin on top of his head)

(but you knew that)

even redder, he shoos them all away

but yeah

he loves that things like that are possible

he really wouldn’t care if you were shorter than him or the same height, but the fact that he can rest his head against your chest is extremely comforting.

there are also some more...impulsive things your height can come in handy for

(read: piggyback rides and lifting him up to reach something when he is adamant that he can get it)

at your place, the cupboards were higher up for you (and your family) so when yuri would come over to help you when you would be sick, well...

let’s just say that stools would be used until you were a-okay and willing to hold him up to grab the one cup that he knows you love

or for movie nights!!!

the popcorn just so happens to be on the top shelf, and when he wants to hlep prep everything, you lift him onto your shoulders

(once the movie has been picked out, of course)

and again, when everything is prepped and ready

you haul him up onto his shoulders and encourage him to smack the top of doorways

he has a hold of the popcorn and grabs the doorframe each time

it was really refreshing to see him act his age and be a little immature sometimes

and this was a prime opportunity for it.

but overall, he wouldn’t mind it much (if at all)

he sees your height as a good thing, actually

even better seeing as you don’t view him as a ‘pipsqueak’ as some say about him

it works great for the both of you, really

even when you aren’t feeling too hot, the cuddling really helps

(he even sometimes acts as the big spoon when you need it)

and the fun stuff that comes from the height difference is all the more better!

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eleni-cherie · 8 months

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a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 1.4

"so eager to be in a headlock again?"

"only if it's by you."

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

The sky was pitch black when Soyeon left work that evening. Now that she had returned, she'd been immediately assigned to two bigger projects and the meetings had felt endless. She dragged a sigh, looking up at the starless sky while walking to the metro.

Same old, same old.

As if nothing had ever happened, as if nothing had ever changed. Going to work every day and writing on songs for artists, hoping they'd perform well on charts. Everything was the same. Everything but Soyeon.

All of a sudden, everything seemed so absurd to her, so comically pointless and silly. Yeah, she still enjoyed working on songs but what was even the point in it if there were deadlines chasing them and she had to work on uplifting songs when internally not feeling happy at all. The only good thing was that she was able to pour everything into writing, helping her coping with that numbing feeling of emptiness knowing she wouldn't see him again.

Summertime was supposed to be exciting but all she felt was anxiety and sadness. Anxiety as her gut feeling kept telling her it wasn't simply over yet and sadness about having parted ways with Yoongi, most likely forever. The blue feeling about that unwilling to fade that easily.

At least he had been right about one thing: Interpol had indeed come knocking on her door the following day, asking her if she'd known about their escape or heard of him. And she'd put on her best fake-surprised expression, shaking her head vigorously and affirming she hadn't had a clue but wouldn't deny being happy hearing about it.

It must've been convincing enough as they hadn't bothered her again since.

Thinking about it now, she technically could try finding him. She knew where he lived after all. However, he had made it clear to her that he didn't want that. That he didn't believe it'd be a good idea. And she respected it, although it was tearing her apart a bit. Just a little bit. A tiny bit. It drove her mad how he'd made that decision for her.

A yawn left her lips, interrupting her thoughts as she entered the main street. She was sleepy, she realised. And hungry. She hadn't had a proper meal all day long yet. Just lived by her iced coffee and some snacks here and there. She was just overall tired.

Too tired to notice two men following her through the mass of pedestrians in the busy street.

Only when one stumbled into a food stand, creating a ruckus and earning scolding from the vendor, she noticed them. And the way they shoved past people with determination in their eyes.

It was like a déjà-vu. Those cold stares, those suits - her instincts instantly kicked in and she started running. Not caring about the weird looks she received by pushing through people.

The metro sign was glowing in the distance, it wasn't far but she decided to take another way to hopefully make them lose sight of her. She turned into a sidestreet and into a bbq-restaurant she knew had a back door next to the restrooms that was leading into a back alley. From there she entered different street after pulling on the hood of her black hoodie. Another station entrance already in near distance. She dared peeking behind her, not able spotting them anymore and she sighed in relief when reaching the stairs leading underground. Quickly making her way down to her platform.

Cautiously, she stayed at the far back. Her eyes wandering over the waiting crowd. Making sure those guys hadn't followed her till there. And only when the train arrived and she finally entered, her racing heart began calming down.

Perhaps she had only imagined things. Perhaps those men weren't actually looking at her some type of way. Perhaps they weren't after her. Perhaps it had been two regular men walking home from work. Perhaps those past weeks had made her literally paranoid, beginning seeing threats when there were none.

The keys clicked in the lock as she turned them, entering her apartment with dragged steps.

Soyeon felt exhausted. Mentally and physically.

After slipping out of her shoes, she trotted into her living room and let herself fall onto the couch. Sighing contently as she closed her eyes. Staying like that until her stomach rumbled and she forced herself sit up with the last bit of energy left. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket and ordering some delivery food. Not feeling like standing at a stove right now.

And her eyes closed once again, her body sliding back down onto the couch, deciding to rest until her food arrived. Unsure of how much time had passed when the ringing of the doorbell rudely interrupted her short nap. Much to her empty stomach's delight though. She rubbed her eyes, seeing half an hour had already passed.

Still drowsy from the nap, she opened the door expecting to see the delivery guy with her food there. Instead, she found a tall foreigner looking down at her with a sharp glance that could make even hell freeze.

He was older, dressed in an elegant white suit, with a gray mustache and an engraved wooden cane. And despite her being certain of not having seen him ever before, there was an unknown familiarity she recognised.

Next to him standing a shorter man, also a foreigner.

"Soyeon, I assume?" the shorter man asked. It was more of a rhetorical question. Of course they knew it was her, they were at her door after all.

However, she sensed the obvious danger and was ready to deny it, when the older man stepped forward and wordlessly brushed past her. Followed by his assistant.

"Wh-"

"C'è molto di cui dobbiamo discutere." The older man spoke up with a hoarse voice, as if he hadn't spoken in awhile.

"There's a lot we need to discuss," the other man translated.

Swallowing down her mind's concerns, she tried collecting herself. Instinctively knowing who that was and what this was about. Following the men further inside to at least hear them out. After all, she was certain running out of the apartment right now would be pointless. There might be more waiting outside.

"You might've fooled these idiots my son's friends sent, but it wasn't hard to find you."

"Oh.. really?" she nervously laughed. So it hadn't been irrational paranoia, she had indeed been chased earlier. "Your son's friends.."

"Non mi conosci."

"You don't know me."

"Ma tu conosci mio figlio."

"But you know my son."

The older man stopped in his tracks, glancing at her briefly as he was standing in front of the large window.

"Y-you mean the guy who kidnapped me? Yeah, I think I remember," she mumbled dryly. Making the younger man's eyes widen before he translated it to his boss. Presumely without the sarcastic undertone.

The man in white nodded slowly, his stern eyes not leaving the scenery outside before replying in italian again and his assistant translating his words. "I know my son hasn't made the wisest decisions and he's being punished for that right now. I got sick of always bailing him out. But that was his wrongdoing, not mine. That's not why I am here."

"You see, he might be an idiot, but he's still my son. And whatever he does, also affects me. Whether I like it or not. And what happened back there in Florence, sadly affected me and my reputation a lot. And I can't let it slide like that."

"Your little friends there created quite the ruckus during our annual family gala. A prestige gala held over generations with equally prestigious guests. So you can imagine the headlines afterwards."

"So what do you want from me now?" Soyeon carefully asked, afraid of the answer.

The man eyed her from the corner of his eye, scoffing lightly. "Corregge."

"Amends."

"A-and how?"

"We thought your friends would be dealt by interpol here, but they fled. And we wanna know where to."

She didn't know where this courage came from despite the intimidatingly calm face of the man in front of her. "You're rich, can't you find that out?"

"I could. But it'd take longer, so I decided to ask you instead."

"Well, unfortunately for you, I don't know either," she lied. Or perhaps it wasn't a complete lie after all considering she didn't know Jimin and Taehyung's exact addresses in Tainan. "You see, we ain't that close. I still don't know exactly why they even helped me back then."

Emilio Rossi closed his eyes for a moment when listening to the translation of his employee. Nodding then. "Que peccato."

"What a pity."

Her eyes widened, scared he didn't believe her or worse - wanted to use her as a bait now. So she unintentionally flinched when the man moved. Her tense shoulders relaxing, however, when realising he was walking back to the door.

"You know, I'm not the only one after them.. the people my son unfortunetely bargained with, these 'friends', are also after them. They're in fact assisting me. However, if I fail imprisoning them again, they want to bring them to justice themselves. And I don't think they'd just want to put them back behind bars like I do."

The shorter man pulled out an envelope then, handing it to Soyeon who hesitatedly accepted it.

"Deliver them my invitation, which they better accept. Otherwise I'll be forced to pay you another visit. And you don't want that."

He opened the door and his translator followed suit. And with that he bowed and left as well. Closing the door behind him.

The apartment fell into an oppressing silence. The ticking of the clock and the ringing pulse in her ears the only noises left. And as she came back to her senses and let everything that had happened in the past minutes sink in, panic started rising. Taking over her.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

»»»

The sudden ringing of the doorbell made Yoongi flinch.

It had been early in the morning. Not too early for him, but definitely too early for anyone he knew visiting him. Besides, he didn't expect any visitors. If he ignored it the person would maybe give up. And indeed, after a few seconds it stopped and he exhaled contently. Focusing back on his training, when the ringing started anew. Making him internally groan as he put his katana away to check who was being so persistent.

Who knew, maybe it was something important after all.

Checking the camera, he didn't recognise the person standing in front of it, though.

With a slow move, he opened the door. Catching the young woman standing there off-guard. She blinked at him, her lips eventually parting.

"H-ey, uhm, are you Yoongi?" she asked with uncertain voice, causing his brows to furrow. He was good in memorising faces and he surely didn't know hers. He mustered her carefully, eventually deeming her of no danger and nodded.

The woman looked seemingly relieved at this and she rummaged in her bag, taking out a slightly crinkled envelope. Holding it out for him. "I think you should read this."

The crease between his brows deepened as he hesitatingly took it from her grip. Reading the name of the sender. And his head snapped towards her.

"W-who are you?"

"I'm a friend of hers and you should read this, now," she insisted with urgency in her voice. She turned around then, already walking away when he called out for her again.

"W-wait, is she okay?" he swallowed, regretting having had his phone switched off for the whole week as he had spent most of the time outside the city. Meditating to try sort out his emotions and scattered thoughts of frustration. Now fear of Soyeon being in danger arising inside him.

Her friend's black hair swayed as she looked over her shoulder.

"She's fine, as far as I know. It's not her who's in trouble."

He blinked confused at her statement, watching her glancing him up and down for a moment. She nodded then. "I don't know what the hell you got her into, but I can see why she likes you," she giggled to herself then, "Sorry, but I couldn't help reading both letters. Don't tell her though."

And with that she disappeared in the direction of the elevator and out of his sight.

Yoongi stood there at the open door for a second too long, processing this strange girl's words and how Soyeon had mentioned having a friend in that city, assuming this must've been her when remembering the envelope in his hands. He quickly closed the door behind him and walked to his couch in the living room, opening the mysterious letter.

The first one being clearly adressed to her friend:

"Hey Shushu,

I know this must be a weird request, especially coming in a letter when we talked on the phone only a few days ago, but I wouldn't ask you for this favour if it wasn't urgent.

I'll explain everything to you the next time we talk but for now, please bring the other contents in this envelope to a guy named Min Yoongi who lives in -"

He paused, taking the second letter out.

"Since this is urgent and you won't pick up calls or reply to texts, I hope you'll forgive me for disobeying your wish again (even if I still disagree with it) and sending my friend over.

I received some unexpected visitor, the italian douche's father. And he was looking for you guys, wanting to turn you in again.

I obviously didn't tell him anything, but he said some 'friends' of his son were also after you. And he gave me this invitation for you with the remark of coming back if you dismiss it.

Listen, I don't believe he'd actually come back and hurt me. But I still felt like warning you, in case he or those other people end up finding you guys on their own after all.

I hope they won't.

Please, stay safe.

- Soyeon xx"

"Of course," he mumbled under his breath and took the third object out of the envelope. A folded card out of thick quality paper with a red wax seal keeping it closed. With a deep sigh, he cracked open the seal.

"Dear wanted criminals,

Me and my son's friend and business partner Morita invite you to his Kyoto mansion on the 21st of this month at 7pm to a last night of freedom before we request you to surrender to the police and face your lawful trial.

You are advised to accept this invitation.

If you do not, you will have to face the consequences set by my co-host. And I cannot guarantee for your or your loved ones' lives if you disobey my request.

Respectfully, Emilio Rossi"

He lowered his hand with dark eyes staring out over the card's edge. Processing the message he had just read.

He should've known this wasn't over just yet. It never was. And yet he couldn't help but feel relieved that they weren't after Soyeon anymore at least. Still, the fact they had contacted her and knew were she lived put him at unease. And that they were now after him and his friends was grave.

Again proving that them getting involved had been a terrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from the table then, switching it on for the first time in a week. Jimin picking up after the third ringing.

"Yes?"

"We got a problem."

Silence followed before he heard a small whine on the other line. "Uh fine, come over."

»»»

next chapter: 1.5 here

Sorry for taking a bit longer. Was kinda struggling with this one :') Hopefully the next one won't take so long.

Also hope the Italian is correct T-T let me know if not.

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡

It motivates me to keep writing :)

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yellowocaballero · 1 month

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hyped for claude story, just from the little blurb and ur tags it looks like its gonna be hysterical

I'm gonna be real man. Is there tight plot? No. Is there anything other than dialogue? Of course not. Is it fast paced? You don't even need to ask. But it is the unwilling recipient of months of my insanity, and for that purpose I admire its resilience. It works because it is also the story of one boy slowly descending into absolute insanity.

I think people sometimes think of Claude as the comic relief and 'only sane man' in the leaders. This is untrue. He's fucking nuts. Imagine if a Japanese-American read a lot of websites on Japan and decided to move to Japan, pretend he was fully Japanese despite obviously being half-White, had been there the entire time, and became Emperor of Japan. He's living his best Dancing With Wolves life. My first decision of the story was that Claude probably didn't call himself his white people name/alias in his head, and that ended up changing a lot. I think if you take a different perspective of him, and decide to understand him a certain way, he becomes absolutely the most bugfuck and interesting character in FE3H.

All three House leaders pretend to be good people and, in fact, are actually pretty shitty people (except for Yuri, who pretends to be a bad person and is an actual angel). Claude is selfish, self-centered, and apathetic. Claude here is actually worse than in canon - for actual reasons that will become clear around 75k into the story. Weekenders was about somebody who saved lives but doomed souls; Rosetta Headstone is about somebody who saved souls but doomed themselves. I think the ending of both stories reflects that.

Anyway, meanwhile Byleth is living her New Game+ and she is killing it.

Also, transcript of that text under the cut - it's a bit long for alt text.

Byleth walked through the door. The bucket of water fell on her head. She had been absolutely drenched.

Byleth had blinked at them, water dripping in rivulets across her hair. Most of the class was laughing their ass off, even Khalid. An absolutely atrocious first impression on their teacher, but the students had successfully won dominance. They had driven away their first teacher in tears and they could do the same to this one. Every student in the class either hated to work (Hilda and Marianne, for surprisingly identical reasons), hated being told what to do (Leonie, Lorenz, Lysithea), or went along with the rest (Ignatz and Raphael). There had been no intention of bowing down to an authority figure. What were they, the Blue Lions? Bootlickers?

“Is there a leak?” Byleth asked.

The laughter died. Everybody stared at Byleth. Byleth tilted her head.

Slow, tremulous, Ignatz pointed at the bucket. Byleth looked down, squinting.

“Oh. Why was that there?”

Straight faced, Hilda said, “Maybe the custodian left it.”

“Okay.” Byleth had walked forward, taking her place in the front of class. She bowed, a little stiff and awkward. “Hello. I’m your teacher. Please treat me well.” She looked up, eyes crinkling faintly in what Khalid would come to recognize as her edition of a smile. “I’m happy to be here.”

The tone was set. Byleth was unflappable.

Salt in her coffee? She drank it all without flinching. Hidden alarm clock set to ring during class? She found it instantly. Frogs labeled 1, 2, and 4 in the classroom? Byleth sadly noted that 3 must have been eaten by a hawk, and she spent the rest of the class delighting over her shiny new frogs. Watching her feed the frogs little worms was adorable. It was so cute that the pranks stopped. Nobody could stomach it anymore. She was too innocent.

Khalid, famous for his honest, straightforward, and upfront nature, hated liars. And Professor Byleth was stinking of deceit. Nobody was that adorable. She had a plot and he would sniff it out.

#yes the premise is 'what if byleth was new game+ and claude was xenophobic'#cinema.#my writing #my asks #there's a moment in weekenders where byleth prays with all of her heart for a second chance #for a world where she was able to save everybody #headstone!byleth's only goal is to create that world where everyone is saved #it is possible that Headstone!Byleth is that second chance #which of course will always be funny considering their POLAR opposite personalities #but saving them all is impossible in FE3H. it always will be. it's a world where you can't save everybody.#story's about that.#rosetta headstone actually has a big relationship with weekenders #in the exact same way that GD has a relationship with BL #obviously. bc weekenders was my exp playing BL and headstone was my experience playing GD #hype.

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avidbeader · 2 years

Text

Okay, so, about “The Sandman”...

It’s amazing.They pulled off a really elegant adaptation, based on the fact that I cannot point to either the comics or the series and say one was better than the other. Plots were tightened up. Characters got shifted here and there. They did the wise thing, in my opinion, and removed just about every reference to the DC superheroes other than a pair of name-checks. By allowing characters to be played by actors regardless of race or gender, they ended up with a cast that did a stellar job. Where there was classic bloody gore/horror, they surrounded it with intense psychological horror so that even those of us who are the type to look away from the screen got almost the full impact. And they took full advantage of the medium to produce incredibly rich and lush visuals and bring iconic pages in the comics to life.

As I said last night, if you feared what a live-action version would do to a story you treasure, don’t be afraid. And if you’re hesitant to watch a series without having read the source material, don’t hesitate. This feels like the once-in-a-generation event where the adaptation not only lives up to the original, but can stand beside it as an equal.

Spoilery thoughts under the cut for both the series and the comics.

I am still really astonished at just how deft an adaptation the series it. Every time I went, “Wait a minute, I don’t like this change,” by the end of that episode or the next I was sold. For example, I was missing Miranda, Rose’s mother, at the beginning of Episode 7, as the buffer between Rose and Unity and also because we were shown the circumstances of their separation from Jed and not just told. But when Gault took on Miranda’s appearance and then railed against Dream because she didn’t want to be a nightmare anymore, it made perfect sense.

And Gault herself was a revelation. In the comics we have a team called Brute and Glob, a rather dumb pair of nightmares, trying to make their own little Dreaming in Jed’s mind. (And if I remember correctly, they’re a reference to one of DC’s older horror comic titles.) They are the ones who capture Hector Hall at his death and bring Lyta to live with him in their fledgling kingdom, and Hector is the “Sandman” of Jed’s dream world. It works in the comics because the text and art pay homage to an early 20th-century comic strip called “Little Nemo”. But it would have been extremely hard to do that on screen without losing the viewers, so they made Jed the star of his dreams instead and gave him all the hokey superhero trappings. And that works because Jed is a kid, with a kid’s imagination. But it gets even better when we see that Gault’s motivations weren’t about power, but about protecting Jed from his abusers because she had changed and wanted to be free of the limitations of her origins. It hit me a little later--it’s such an elegant metaphor for those who are constricted by society because of their race or sexuality, constantly fighting the huge obstacles wanting to prevent such people from any kind of metamorphosis (I mean, Dream gave her butterfly wings when he recreated her as she wanted to be). Which leads me to the one giant tonal shift that has me curious about future seasons. Dream in the comics is almost completely without humor. He is ultra-serious about his duties and responsibilities and way too proud, unwilling to change as the aeons go by. And his inability to change leads him to his end in a classic literary tragedy - even though he knows change will be necessary, he resists and even plans for his demise by setting up for the possibility with Lyta’s child as his successor. But it’s really hard to get a TV series off the ground when your leading man is not just the aloof emo archetype but stoic and stern to the point of needing to be introduced as a prisoner to garner sympathy for him. My husband and I were genuinely surprised in the first episode when Dream cried over Jessamy’s death, because it signaled a depth of caring that we don’t see until much later in the comics. But the TV Dream does show emotion, albeit mostly quietly and with a lot of amazing face acting by Tom Sturridge, does appreciate humor and irony, and at the end of this season does seem to see the need for change.

So now I’m very curious as to how they will herd Dream to his death. Will there be a back-and-forth because Dream can’t change enough? Or will the undertone about the universe having rules mean that Dream’s arc will be less about tragic choices and more about circumstances, with him having to accept the consequences of spilling family blood when he gives Orpheus the coup?

(Of course this is assuming that Netflix allows the series to be completed instead of cutting it off after 2-3 seasons. Yes, I’m still bitter about Sense8.)

TL;DR - I loved it, I think Neil Gaiman has taken full advantage of his previous TV experiences to find what works and find who will work best with him, and I will re-watch this series many times and keep watching any future seasons.

#the sandman #sandman spoilers #sandman comics #sandman series

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hattiestgal · 9 months

Note

hi I am sending you an ask to serve as permission to loredump on the other thing you are working on!!

YIPPEE OH GOSH I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAYYY Ok so I have a plan for a story (Likely in comic form) about a dysfunctional found family parent + child combo that basically has to brave a world completely ruined by constant warring and needless destruction (so yeah the tones gonna get a little bleak at times). At this point, no one even knows what they're fighting for anymore. It's just been meaningless bloodshed for as long as so many can remember. What peace and society remains is dominantly ruled over by oppressive military factions trying to maintain what little hold they can over what there is to grasp at. Massive metal cities serve as the strongholds for the livelihoods of those left.

Resting between these oppressive bastions lies the Abyss, land ruined beyond what these military groups found useful, polluted and destroyed. The scraps of life before the unending wars, the cities mercilessly pillaged in a mindless race for power, and everything else lays scattered about, overrun with toxic plant life and dangerous undocumented fauna.

Walking the abyss are our two main protagonists, Lucy Diggz and Allison Dudz. They, among others share a similar disdain for the crushing life lived within the metal walls of any of the military factions, and fled to live a life with some degree of freedom. Now, some character introductions! Up first, Lucy Diggs (He/Him)!

"His loose fit fire retardant suit clung to his body, discolored with age. Gloved hands wrapped around a heavily dented metal canister and his makeshift flamethrower’s hose. Lucy’s exhausted body could barely keep him up. His stance quivered, threatening to drop him at any moment.

It only occurred to him now the likelihood that his freshly destroyed surroundings were his doing." Lucy is a bombastic hothead teen rabbit and unwilling vessel for a force called "The Vision", which grants him a power he doesn't seem to know how to harness quite yet, but also causes him to have trouble keeping himself in total control, as something else occupies his body now, too. Unfortunately his problems don't end there. Those warring factions see Lucy as nothing more than a utility waiting to be capitalized on. "The Vision" and all of its abilities have the ability to drastically sway the tide of the endless wars, as they have many times before. Therefore, those who possess it are seen as a priority as a weapon to collect to get headway in the nonstop fighting. There also seems to be something else that has taken interest in him. Much of his life was spent alone, walking the abyss trying to keep himself busy. the area he roamed wasn't patrolled very often, so it was mostly easy pickings for a simple, if a little boring life. Up next, Allison Dudz! (She/Any)

"His vision was too faded to tell much about the figure. Crude teeth were painted on their bloodstained mask. Their heavy jacket clung tightly to their frame, easily showing off their brawny figure. They towered over Lucy with ease, casting a shadow that covered his entire body.

Lucy didn’t even notice the sensation of the hand that wrapped around him, or how he was being lifted up with such little effort. All he knew is that he was now face to face with this unknown person. The avatar of death for all he knew. This was how he died, wasn’t it?" Allison is a very mellow person, and a bit of a goofball! Though she also won't pay much mind to common social courtesy if the situation calls for it. She'll be the first one to tell you how it is without any kind of sugarcoating or fancy language. She's also often unintentionally intimidating, but since having learned this, has taken it to her advantage to scare off any of the more weak willed assailants she has to face in her day to day life. Running what is essentially an Abyss safe haven, Allison has lived a colorful life with her various encounters with those who roam the Abyss. She's also the first to respond to distress calls in her little patch of the Abyss, and takes immense pleasure in muddying transmissions between military forces. Together, these two brave the long since abandoned parts of the Abyss in the hopes of one day rebelling and somehow ending this war.

#hat answers #lore dump - the abyss #my ocs #my art #Lucy Diggs #Allison Dudz #I'VE BEEN MEANING TO TALK ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG

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mearcatsreturns · 1 year

Text

bi the way

While chatting during a night drinking, Jackson realizes that Lucy might have a crush or two...or just a very specific type.

Hello, all! This is the first fic I'm posting for this fandom, and I hope you all like it. While working on another fic, I was chatting with my bestie @somekindofflowergirl about how funny it would be if Lucy had been interested in Katie Barnes and he'd later found out (and broken his brain). This isn't that, but it led to this short fic about Lucy having a bi moment. And a type.

Rated T, also on ao3. Chenford-adjacent (just some light pining), pre-relationship, but astoundingly, canon-compliant.

******

“So, did you figure out why Tim was being so nice to his new rookie?”

Lucy peers across the coffee table at Jackson, eyeing him blearily as she sloshes her glass. Ostensibly, it’s a margarita. In reality, it’s mostly tequila and ice. This is her third one, and she’s definitely feeling it.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Jackson smiles over at her, taking a drink of his beer. He’s not drinking as much, but this is probably his fifth beer. “So? You gonna tell me, or will I have to speculate wildly?”

“She…she’s got other stuff going on. Big stuff. He said he was being nice because that’s what she needs.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“She needs to feel safe, and I needed to feel like the world was dangerous. Something like that,” she says, waving her hand.

He bristles, “Um, I think you know the world is a dangerous place. Caleb, anyone?”

Lucy makes a face, reaching across to pat his arm. “No, not anymore. At first. You know as well as I do that Tim hasn’t been harsh like that with me in forever,” she says. After a moment, she continues, “Did you know she was in the Army too? Katie, I mean?”

“No shit, really?”

“For real.”

Jackson looks over at her, where she’s staring into her drink, frowning at it a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought he liked her better than me.”

He finishes the rest of his beer, unwilling to touch that one with a 10-foot pole.

Lucy isn’t finished, though. “I asked him…I mean, not like that, but he said I’m kind and insightful and maybe one day Katie could be as good as me.”

Wow. That’s…unexpected, from Bradford.

“What if he doesn’t mean it, though? What if he’s just saying that to make me feel better?” she asks, voice wobbling.

“Okay, first of all, does that sound like something Tim would do? If he’s actually using words to compliment you, he means it. Also, he’s right, and you are both kind and insightful. And astoundingly good at your job.”

“But she’s just so pretty and smart and fit,” she says with a sigh.

Jackson isn’t really sure where to start with this one. “Uh…”

“She is, did you even see her?”

“I did, Lucy, along with everyone on the day shift in patrol. She’s not really my type. Hey, is this still a thing where you’re upset about Tim ‘moving on’ with a new rookie, or…?”

Lucy takes a long pull of her watery, iced tequila. “I just can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. And what if she’s Tim’s type?”

He stands up and rounds the table, joining her on the couch. “Can we stop for a minute and focus on how you’ve mentioned three times that you think she’s hot?”

“Well, she is!” Lucy looks comically surprised at her outburst, and he’s sure the expression is mirrored on his face.

“Okay, then. Is this a new development, or have you been hiding things from me, your best and also gayest friend?”

“Please, like you’re my gayest friend. One of my friends from college is an activist who writes about being gay. You’re my best friend, though.”

“I’ll take it, but yeah, I’m still waiting on an answer to my question,” he tells her, laughing.

She shakes her head, turning a deep red. “I mean, I kissed some girls in college, but who didn’t?”

“I can assure you that I did not.”

“You know what I mean!”

Jackson takes a sip of his beer, grinning over at her. “I’m just saying, the fact you said ‘girls,’ plural, might mean something.”

“So what if it does?” she asks mulishly.

“Then I would support you, but I’d still have more questions.”

“No, I’ve never had sex with a woman, but I’m not opposed to it.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask, but I will be circling back to that.”

Lucy snorts. “Okay, so…?”

“Listen, I-I kind of thought you liked Tim? Like, like—”

“Oh my god, Jackson!” Her face flames scarlet.

He wags a finger in front of her face emphatically. “Please, don’t act like that’s completely crazy.”

“He was my T.O.! I set him up with one of my best friends!”

“Mmmhmm,” he teases, “your very hot former T.O. who isn’t dating your friend anymore. Who you’ve been just a little possessive of the last couple of days.”

“I-I have not! I was just…I needed some reassurance, which is completely normal. Psychologically speaking.”

“Lucy,” Jackson says gently, “Angela is one of my closest friends. Harper and Nolan have each other’s backs. But none of us look at each other the way you and Tim do.”

Lucy rolls her eyes and sips her drink. “Well, you’re gay and Angela’s a woman. And Nolan and Harper…well, can you imagine what Harper would do if Nolan got a crush on her?”

That is a funny mental image, but he isn’t willing to be sidetracked. “Oh, so you’re admitting to a crush?”

She tosses a throw pillow at him, and he manages to catch it without spilling his beer. He sets it down to avoid any further potential spills.

Gathering his thoughts, he’s quiet. Lucy seems content to sip her drink, her head tipping back after the exhaustion of the day.

Suddenly, he can’t hold it in, and Jackson giggles.

Lucy sits up and quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“I-I just…you have such a type,” he laughs.

She just looks at him in befuddled questioning.

“Look. Former military turned cop…that athletic build…beautiful down to the cut jawline…Lucy, they even have similar haircuts.”

Lucy stares at him for a long moment, then joins him in raucous laughter. “Oh my god, you’re right. This is horrible.”

“No, this is the best thing ever, and I can’t wait to tell Lopez,” he wheezes, still leaning back into the couch in tipsy amusement.

“Jackson,” she says, growing serious, “no. We will never speak of this again, and you will not tell Lopez.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will feed your Mandalorian figurine to Kojo.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“And you wouldn’t dare tell Lopez about this conversation,” she says with a victorious smirk.

“Fine, but don’t think I’m done teasing you about this. For, like, forever.”

“Fine,” Lucy says, rolling her eyes.

Jackson just smiles back at her.

#chenford #the rookie #the rookie fanfic #the rookie ff #chenford fanfic #chenford ff #jackson west #lucy chen #tim bradford #katie barnes #listen. drunk people and italics go hand-in-hand

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kichimiangra · 11 months

Note

In your comic, what was Klunk's plan after kidnapping Ratchet? His ominous little puppet show made it clear that Ratchet did not have any real say in the matter, but how did Klunk plan to "replace" Clank? Was Klunk intending to assist Dr. Nefarious with Ratchet's very unwilling help, and just keep the Lombax nearby?

I wish I could fully remember. This was one of those "Left open to continue but didn't plan far past the puke joke" moments. It definitely would have had Klunk kidnap Ratchet and get right into some crazy stuff. I think it was going to have Klunk try to use the mind control device from Secret Agent Clank he had used on Ratchet in that game, or graft it to his head more permanently with intent to use it to keep Ratchet under his control.. but in a creepy stalker way. And it would either go down a direction of it not working and Ratchet having to pretend it is while playing house/tea party with Klunk while waiting for a chance to escape/ his friends to come to the rescue (The Comedy route) or a direction where it doesn't immediately work but it is constantly pushing further into Ratchet's mind until he doesn't even know what is real and what isn't anymore! Wasn't he always with Klunk since Veldin? But wait wasn't he not... but wasn't he just kidnapped by the vacuume cleaner? But why would that happen? Aren't they partners? Why would Klunk need to kidnap him?

(AKA the drama route)

I do remember that Nefarious was mostly being reserved for a joke ending where after all the drama is had, think epic final battle moment, Neffy just shows up (Because this is all taking place in Neffys base) and is like "There you fucking are you little asshole!" *Deactivates Klunk and goes back to repairing him* and is so pissed off by the events of the day that he just tells everyone to get the hell out of his house.

My friend was helping me get out of corners a lot with the writing and she specializes in kidnapping fics (She was responsible for Klunks little puppet show) and she had written out a script for the whole scene that the puke joke exists in including what would be like... Pages 13-15 if I had gone further than the puke joke:

Nefarious clasped his hands together. “Excellent!”

He turned, gaze blurring past metal walls and corridors as he zeroed on his minions. His eyes shrank to pinpricks as he realized what exactly was in their hands.

Before turning, he lifted a fist and grinned at the mirror. “Finally! I’ll be able to kill my nemesis. With what you’ve stolen from their very own home I will be able to–“

“Those monsters!” He slapped a hand to his chest and hacked. Metal screws flew out of his mouth and bounced off the heads of the minions. “What did they do to my creation!?!”

He lifted a hand, index finger raised to his minions, as he proceeded to upchuck cogs and bolts. The metal chinked against the floor and scattered about the robots feet. When he finished, he straightened and eyed the object in the minion’s hands.

“He’s been turned into an atrocity. Those squishy heroes are horrible! Horrible I say!”

Lawrence puttered to Nefarious’ side, the corners of his mouth curved down in boredom. “Sir, if I do recall you have a photo of said heroes in your holo-diary.”

The butler reached into his vest. “I believe you even titled that page as…ah, Bestie Buddies?”

Lawrence started to pull out a tablet with the words “Neffie’s Diary” inscribed on the back in elegant calligraphy but Nefarious lunged in front of him, eyes wide.

“No!” He faced his minions, back hiding Lawrence and any incriminating evidence from view. “I mean, uh, I don’t have a diary!”

Lawrence rolled his eyes but returned the tablet to his vest and stepped out from behind Nefarious, studying the vacuum-transformed Klunk. “Sir?” he gestured at the minions, who, judging by how they were shaking enough for their innard metal to rattle, were terrified.

Nefarious swiped his baby out of their hands and shooed them away. “‘l’ll fix him and he’ll be back to causing mayhem and terror!” He started to laugh but his system glitched and he froze. The dialogue and music from his favorite movie played from the speaker wired into his mouth.

Lawrence smiled slightly and slapped his back. Hard. He stumbled a bit but continued his laughter. Damn, Lawrence was working out or something cause that hurt.

~oOo~

Nefarious leaned over a work table, goggles covering his eyes to protect them from flying sparks. He held a screwdriver in one hand and leaned over Klunk’s unconscious form. The small robot had the chest compartment open as he worked on cleaning out Klunk’s innards.

He pulled out a chunk of orange fur with the screwdriver and shifted the fur into one hand. “You poor thing you’ve got a lot of hideous Lombax hair.”

He turned around, exchanging the wrench for a small lint brush. It’d be easier to clean out the hair and then work on restoring the wiring. Nefarious pinched the fur between two metal fingers.

He murmured to himself. “If I could feel…would this be soft?”

The robot turned around and his eyes shot wide. Where was Klunk? Metal clacked and he lifted his gaze to spot the little robot turning a corner. Strands of orange hair fell out of his chest and left a trail behind him.

Nefarious crossed his arms and yelled. “You’ll come back when your circuits overheat!” He huffed to himself. “Ungrateful little brat.”

~oOo~

So I know with her cowriting it would have been something awesome:P

#ratchet and clank #R&C: Thinking of you #kc answers stuff

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allforanofficerslife · 2 years

Text

1917 Essential Reading Rec List

We at the Officers’ Club thought that, as the 1917 fandom is approaching 1000 works on AO3, we ought to put together a list of some of the fics that drew us into the fandom and kept that movie magic going! We took two server-wide polls and came up with a list of 16 fantastic narrative fancreations that we feel every 1917 fan should check out (if they haven’t done so already)!

These works are not in any particular order besides our general categories. We have listed them in three categories: “Top 5” (5 works), “Highly Recommended” (7 works), and “E-Rated” (4 works). Other than that, each category’s works are listed in order of publication, from oldest to newest.

Top 5:

between the crosses (series) ~ Genfic, spans G-M ratings. Higher ratings largely for violence. Canon-era, fix-it, and filled with ghosts, this work follows Schofield and Blake’s adventures after the movie until the end of the war.

~ “I know that this is a series and not one specific work, but holy cow. Just, this is the mother of all 1917 fanfics. The level of research, the characterization, freaking TOM BLAKE AS A GHOST, Will as a (somewhat unwilling) psychopomp? Yes, yes, this is required reading for any 1917 fan.”

Pick a man. Bring your kit. ~ Genfic, rated T. Canon-era, fix-it, and subjects Schofield to a plethora of time loops.

~ “This fic is what introduced me to the fandom and was the gateway drug to my obsession.” ~ “Can Schofield escape the time-loop, or will he have to go through that whole day again? Absolutely gripping, utterly heart-wrenching. Keeps you on the edge of your seat the entire way through!”

there and back again (series) ~ Genfic and F/M (Will Schofield/Will Schofield’s Wife), spans G-M ratings. Canon-era, canon-compliant, is a crossover with WWII movie Dunkirk.

~ “YMAM is a gorgeous character-study of William Schofield post-war; TLK is a breathtaking account of how William Schofield meets his wife. Both works and the rest of the series are exquisitely British in tone and sensibility and are also all exceedingly well-researched.” ~ “Take My Whole Life Too has such a beautiful exploration of the relationship between Will and his wife. It doesn't pull any punches, and chances are really good it will make you cry, but it is always the good sort of bittersweet. And very well-researched besides!”

Who’s Best Boy? (comic) ~ Gen. Canon-era, canon-compliant, humorous and bittersweet.

~ “I am obsessed with this comic. I reference this comic in my daily life so much it's not even funny anymore. The art style is absolutely adorable and makes me laugh. This treasure of a comic brought me the panel that now lives forever in my heart: best boy...at what cost...” ~ “This one is a classic. It will absolutely make you laugh and cry, and even at the same time!”

Louder Than Words (series) ~ Genfic and M/M (Blakefield), split T and M ratings. Higher ratings primarily for violence. Canon-era, fix-it, subtle psychic AU.

~ “Will is psychic and that leads to some very unfortunate circumstances as a WWI soldier. What I like best is how this series really gorgeously paces the development of his and Blake's friendship (and more), exquisitely taking the time to show us how the two men come to trust and love each other.”

Highly Recommended:

A Kinder World ~ M/M (Blakefield), rated T. Schofield-centric, modern setting AU, and a healthy dose of reincarnation.

~ “Literally the second fic I read for the fandom! It is incredibly soft and well-written.”

say not soft things ~ Genfic, rated T. Canon-era, backstory, centered on Private Rossi.

~ “It’s a fic from the POV of Rossi, it’s very in-depth about Scottish culture, what is there to not like?” ~ “It is basically poetry, and the characterization of Rossi is so goddamn good. It's not finished (and I expect it never will be), which is a real shame, but whatever. Enjoy what exists, eh? Because this one is fantastic.”

when the fight is long (we’ll get back up and carry on) ~ M/M (Private Cooke/Private Rossi), rated T. Canon-era, post-canon, filled with that sweet, sweet Hurt/Comfort.

~ “Absolutely lovely. For minor characters with a few minutes onscreen, the boys feel so real. Cooke & Rossi’s relationship was wonderful, the affection they have for each other felt incredibly sweet.” ~ “Pretty decent Cookerossi fic.”

A Rough Year (comic) ~ Gen. Canon-era, missing scene, Colonel Mackenzie and Major Hepburn-centered.

~ “Everyone knows that if you are coming into the 1917 fandom, then it is only to fall in love with all the background characters who barely got two lines of dialogue. This comic characterized Mackenzie and Hepburn in two glorious panels. You can rip this sassy Colonel Mackenzie out of my cold dead hands! These two Officers are a power duo and no one can change my mind on that front.”

flower petals (what a waste) ~ F/M (William Schofield/William Schofield’s Wife), rated T. Canon-compliant, post-canon character study of Schofield.

~ “A one-shot under 1k, this work is a haunting depiction of William Schofield after the war. 10/10 makes me cry every time, and that's not counting the beauty of the writing itself.” ~ “flower petals (what a waste) is a painfully beautiful fic about PTSD from WWI. It's not a super long fic, so you're not spending a lifetime of misery with the sadness, but it's worth every minute you do spend in Schofield's post war experience.”

Amigos (comic) ~ Gen. Canon-era, missing scene, background for Schofield & Blake’s relationship. Warning: will absolutely gut you.

~ “On-point characterization, fantastic art style, and a perfect blend of light-hearted sweetness and wordless anguish.” ~ “Pretty sad :’)”

Whirlwind ~ F/M (Joseph Blake/William Schofield/William Schofield’s Wife) and M/M (Joefield), rated T. Post-canon pining on Joseph Blake’s part leads to a polymorous relationship.

~ “Lighthearted, sweet, and humorous.” ~ “Cute AF Joefield!” ~ “Beautifully fun poly!“

E-Rated:

the shortest distance between two points is a line from me to you ~ M/M (Blakefield), rated E. Canon-divergent, fix-it, slow-burn friends-to-lovers set after the war.

~ “This was one of the first Blakefield fics I read back in the day and Cunning paints such a lovely picture of growing romance between Sco and Blake, the trauma they still suffer with from the war, and the misunderstanding trope that we all know and love!” ~ “The quintessential Blakefield ‘survived the war and work at a pub.’ This version has 24k of slow idiots-to-lovers, culminating in another 15k of tasty smut and a surprisingly-modern coming out to the family scene.”

one the other never leaving ~ M/M (Blakefield), rated E. Canon-era PWP one-shot of Blake’s first time.

~ “Fair warning, this is smut. But it is also effing poetry. A little dark, but beautifully written. Cannot recommend this one for your smutty needs highly enough.” ~ “Probably the best smut fic in the fandom. Absolutely gorgeous writing.”

Two Lance Corporals and a Prostitute (series) ~ F/M (Blake/prostitute, Schofield/prostitute, William Schofield/William Schofield’s Wife, Tom Blake/William Schofield/William Schofield’s Wife) and M/M (Blakefield), rated E. Canon-divergent series of PWP one-shots on the development of Blake and Schofield’s relationship as Schofield teaches Blake the ins and outs of sex. Eventual polyamory.

~ “Two Lance Corporals and a Prostitute is fantastically delicious smut. If you want fun smut that is well written and also very believable given the context of the characters during the movie - this is for you.”

a long road down the river ~ M/M (Blakefield), rated E. Canon-divergent slow-burn that reconciles the fact that Schofield is married with his close relationship with Blake; has significant plot in addition to smut.

~ “This was the first fic I ever read in the fandom and what made me fall in love with it so deeply. It is incredibly well-written, and the way the author captures Schofield's voice in the narration is absolutely beautiful. There's a lot of poetry being waxed about Blake, but I appreciate the fact that the author still takes their time to arrange this into a slow burn romance. The story explores Schofield's failing relationship with his wife and their consequent divorce plus their efforts to protect their daughters from the fallout, and that was a rather relatable point to me because my own parents divorced when I was younger. To add a cherry on top, the characterization of the secondary characters is incredibly fun, particularly Cooke and Rossi's.”

#1917 film #1917 (2019)#rec list #our top picks #this was NOT EASY #even after two rounds we still had a number that were close #but here you go!#these are the best all-around works for the fandom that we recommend to anyone new to the fandom #with ships and without ships #GO FORTH AND REEEEAD

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false-idol-comic · 11 months

Photo

Author’s Notes: I mentioned before how I won’t do an intermission if there isn’t something to talk about. But it takes more than just one thing to talk about to keep my interest enough to be a scene in False Idol. If the only talking point was just getting to bring up Abbey and why Daisy broke up with him, it wouldn’t be enough. There needs to be a REASON for why we bring it up, and have it take up pages in the comic. And this page highlights that reason.

Y’see, there is a subject matter I really hesitated to broach. Not just in False Idol, but in January as well. The subject of those suffering from mental illness not properly handling their issues, and falling into personal pitfalls that keep them stuck from getting better. It was a topic that I should’ve brought up in January, but I didn’t in fear of muddling the positive message of January and trying to tell people there is hope at the end, and I definitely didn’t want to do that to Lucy.

Abbey on the other hand... Oh we can use Abbey for this 100%! And it’s not just because I hate him but WHY I hate him. And this page highlights exactly WHY I hate Abbey. Because he exemplifies a mentality and behavior that makes hurt people continue to hurt people. He was never honest with Daisy about his problems, and how hurt he was feeling. Despite having multiple avenues of bettering himself, and finding ways of dealing with his issues in a healthy manner he instead took cover in his shell, believing he was right all the way up and AFTER everything blew up in his face. His relationship with Daisy could’ve been a great opportunity to flesh out and build up these two characters. Daisy could help him deal with his trauma and bring support and stability to his life, and Abbey could help Daisy with her insecurity problems and show that she has pros and strengths of her own that she can appreciate.

BUT NOPE! WHY HAVE ANY OF THAT, WHEN WE CAN JUST HAVE ABBEY REGRESS AND LIE ABOUT HIS PROBLEMS WITH PAULO WITH DAISY UNTIL IT DESTROYS HIS OWN RELATIONSHIP!

So... this is why Abbey’s not in False Idol. I didn’t get into it with this page (maybe I could work it into another page but in case I don’t) maybe Daisy seeing Lucy get better, and seeing how she handles therapy and her progress as a person Daisy notices the problems with Abbey’s own recovery. Which brought up a question: “Was Abbey a good boyfriend?” and I think the answer is no. Given that Daisy still has issues with insecurity and comparing herself to others, I don’t think Abbey helped quell those fears like he should have, and the fact that Daisy was nervous and unwilling to tell Abbey about her interests in nerdy stuff to take her to the convention shows that she isn’t THAT secure with him.

And I know this is going on for a while but I just wanted to highlight one thing about this page. There was an alternate stinger, and by that I mean the last panel was in contention with one other line. I ended up going with the one we see here because it showcases Daisy’s mentality, and that even after everything she does care about Abbey, through and through she did love him and does want the best for him, but just can’t stand to see him spiral down anymore.

The alternate ending was Daisy revealing that she’s become disillusioned by her relationship and seeing the stagnation between her and Abbey realizes that he’s not holding her up, but holding her back from being a stronger person, stating that all Abbey wanted was someone to keep him stable, and safe. “But that’s not love... that’s a crutch.”

#Bittersweet Candy Bowl #False Idol #comic #fan comic #art #fan art #furry #drama #webcomic #Lucy #Daisy

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wisteriavines · 1 year

Text

Discontinued Writing (Change Starts With One)

part [1] 2

original prompt

July 15th — the day Midoriya Izuku was born in one world, and the day Dahlia Jones died in another.

[ ]

Izuku was only a year old when he awoke with clarity and understanding. He wasn’t Dahlia Jones anymore, she died. He is Midoriya Izuku now, a baby boy.

He didn’t quite break down, not so much in the sense of tears and snot, but more in the sense of staring blankly at the wall in front of him as his brain malfunctioned in an effort to process the sudden knowledge.

Dahlia never really cared about gender or pronouns, she shrugged when people misgendered her due to her clothing or hairstyle. It wasn’t a problem. But she distinctly saw herself as female. Grew up female with all that the birth-gender entails. Puberty was a bitch but it was her bitch.

Izuku..for all that he was Dahlia Jones and she is now him, female pronouns don't quite fit anymore with him. Male pronouns were and still are a work in progress but he doesn’t feel...wrong or uncomfortable when they’re used, just confused and frustrated. Because for all that he is male, he knows what it means to be female.

Dahlia’s life is a building block, the base so to say, of his own person. She was a quiet, easily annoyed, kind, take-no-bullshit, smart woman. She graduated college, became a librarian to live as simple and easy as she could while still indulging the part of her that genuinely liked children.

Izuku in turn is a quiet, kind, and smart child. He loves to read and listen to stories of all kinds. He can’t stand any form of bullying, would step up and defend those that can’t or are too afraid and unwilling. Even when he became the target instead and no one helped him. Dahlia blamed children’s bad behavior and attitude on the adults and environment. Izuku does too because he can see it happening.

A quirkless child doesn’t know what they’re saying, right?

When he first heard and saw quirks, Izuku was entranced. Dahlia’s world, life, never had anything like it except in comics and movies. He wanted to study them, figure out everything they could do. He was so excited at the prospect of getting a superpower of his own.

Izuku laughs at the irony now.

He has a lifetime’s knowledge of being quirkless, knows exactly what he is capable of because he knows a world that was filled with quirkless people and oh, what amazing feats they achieved. He is quirkless but so was everyone else when rocket science was achieved and space travel was accomplished.

It disgusts him how far discrimination has come.

A child with the ability to change hair colors is suddenly more capable than him when just last week she only ever had blonde hair. What good will pink, blue, purple hair be when they’re in the park playing tag against children with more destructive and physical quirks? Why is a weak and surface-level useless quirk held at a higher standard than he? Why must society turn against him, the very definition of their ancestors? Why - when - how are quirks the equalizer of someone’s worth?

No one had an answer beyond detention for causing and being a “distraction”.

Dahlia disliked school but Izuku loathes it. Teachers turning away from obvious bullying. Students becoming bystanders and encouraging the bullies. Bullies growing bolder and worse at the praise and lack of being told “no”.

Case in point: Bakugou Katsuki.

With his mother being best friends with the blonde’s mother, Izuku has known Bakugou since he was in diapers (an experience he very much wishes to bleach from his memories). He grew up with Bakugou, became accustomed to his vulgar language and harsh attitude. And has watched the system fail him.

The moment Bakugou got his quirk was the moment things took a turn for the worst. Purposely set off explosions written off as lack of control. Attitude problems waved off as part of his quirk. Praised for his quirk. Expectations and pressure placed on his small shoulders because of his quirk. His quirk - his quirk - his quirk. Never him. Never Katsuki. Always his quirk.

Izuku does not fault the boy for slapping his hand away that day in the forest. Does not fault him for his harsh words and heat coated hands. The fault is the system which has failed a child and likely many others too.

Dahlia was born an American and was raised to judge and question the system, to fight the system and for what is right. Izuku isn’t an American but shares the sentiment since all it seems the USA is popular for are its protests. The need to speak and stand up, to fight for what he believes in. It helps that his father is in America and calls in every Friday, it makes him feel closer to who Dahlia was as a person.

Midoriya Izuku is seven-years-old, Quirkless in a world of superpowers, feeling older than he really is, and exhausted at the utter failure society has seemed to become.

Laws have been made and passed. Laws that no one actually upholds. So called “heroes” causing more damage than good. So called “villains” having been pushed down too many times and simply accepting their place in the world. Life isn’t black and white, heroes and villains. Life isn’t fair, never has been and never will be.

But it can be better.

[ ]

July 15th — the day where everything and nothing changed.

#wisteriavines #change starts with one au #cswo au #discontinued writing #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #quirkless midoriya izuku #reincarnation #I actually was raised to question the system #my family had a lot of things to say about it #so did my teachers once I was in middle and high school #so while stereotypical #it’s not really a lie #also this has been in my drafts for a long time #could be better but meh #mha #bnha

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selfinndulgent · 2 years

Text

aftermath

You kind of really hate yourself.

This room you’ve known your entire life—this room he has known his entire life—suddenly isn’t the same anymore. Sure, it looks like how it had always looked: with that bed you never bothered to make, with the small wardrobe pushed to the side, with the desk and the various trinkets on it that you never used. But there is a difference—a certain air to the room that perhaps an outsider would not be able to place.

You place it. It’s your fault, anyway.

A window on the far wall reveals the street below, mindless noise flowing up from the ground into your ears. You remember a time when that noise had sounded like a symphony, a melodious mark of a new chapter with your heart set in your chest and your best friend unwavering by your side. How naïve you were, so unbearably excited to be an Reaper. It feels like eons since you've felt that way. Now, the noise only sounds like a cacophony.

You keep your eyes focused on the bright lights of the buildings beyond the cacophony, unwilling to look down at the carpeted floor. Because there it is: what once was a glass ball, shattered into bits at your feet, reminding you exactly of what you had done the night before. Its mocking glint erases any and all timid hope that it had just been a very vivid dream. You think back to what he said last night—the first real argument you’ve ever had with each other—about you being the one who always takes and takes but never gives.

In your current moment of epiphany and reflection you think to yourself that he’s right. You were too blinded by obsession and hurt and anger and betrayal to see it before, but he’s right. All throughout your lives, he was always the one pulling the weight, while you latched onto him like a parasite. You ran away from your problems, comforted in the fact that even when everything else hit rock-bottom, he would always be right behind you.

You just hadn't realized that the reason he'd always been behind you was because he was solving the problems you were running away from. By fleeing and leaving a mess of dirt in your wake, you compelled him to clean up after you, for you.

He really is always right, isn't he? You constantly refuse to listen, you realize the things that actually matter only when it's too late. Last night, he screamed right in your face that he cared about you and you still didn't get it. It's so melancholic—so stupid—that it's almost comical.

You force yourself to look down at the floor, your eyes skimming over the glass shards. They twinkle up at you, reflecting the bright lights emitting from the nearby buildings, sparkling rhinestones against a barren landscape. You quietly think to yourself that they almost look like stars.

You star-gaze, and you think. You owe him at least that much.

You think back to when you were kids and climbing trees, him always going first, finding all the right footholds. You think about the many times he fell from a loose branch—a slip against the bark—and you think about how you had never really risked anything from following behind him, knowing exactly where to step and reach. You think back to your school days, whenever there was homework you didn’t want to do, or a test you had to cram for. He’d always let you copy his work, always stay up late with you to study and help you understand the material, even if he ended up being exhausted the next day. You think back to when you first became Reapers, starry-eyed and eager, and how he'd always pull you back and pluck you out of trouble whenever you got too hasty.

You think about every single day for your whole lives, and what would have been every single day for the rest of your lives.

Maybe not. Maybe him snapping was inevitable. You think that either way, you wouldn’t have realized it until he said something, and wince at the thought.

You remember him yelling at you the night before, tears streaming down his face, hurt and anger and almost something like betrayal showing vulnerably in his eyes. You remember him screaming— “Why am I always here for you, but you’re never there for me?”—what must have been centuries of pent-up frustration and hurt spilling through, walls you weren’t even aware he had built up breaking down.

Had you really been so blindsided? You know each other better than you know yourselves. You should've been able to sense his resentment with you brewing, you should've nipped the problem in the bud as soon as it appeared, you should've known.

Always leeching off of him. You wouldn’t be doing that anymore, whether or not it was on purpose.

It still hasn’t quite sunk in—the possibility that you’ll never see him again, never talk to him again. As if the argument had been so bad that it endangered a millennium of friendship, of companionship, of seeing each other at your worst but still sticking out despite that (or, perhaps, because of that). It’s not a secret that you need him—even before last night’s confrontation, you were aware of this as a fact. You just weren’t aware of how much you need him.

You’re aware now.

A part of you thinks that no, he’ll come back. There’s no way just one single argument could have dismissed days spent catching bugs and exploring the small world you'd created for yourselves, nights spent latching onto each other like a lifeline. You want to believe that he'll come back. The thing is, though, if you know him as well as you think you do, then him walking out of this exact room the night before also construed to him walking out of your life. Him walking out of this room also construed to him walking out of lazy afternoons, out of secrets mumbled during late nights up watching movies, out of irritable mornings and everyday banter.

You think about life without him and suddenly feel nauseous.

There’s no use thinking about this now, though; it's not like you can do anything to change your predicament. You shake your head, clearing it as best as you can. If he thinks you’re deserving of another chance (you really aren’t), he’ll give you one, but you can’t force him to. After all you put him through, whether it was knowingly or not, it would be wrong to try to.

The glass shards in front of you suddenly turn blurry, and something wet slides down your cheek. You think about how you threw the ball at him last night: hard, with intent, deliberately. Belatedly, you feel the weight of it pressing into your palm, and you wonder why it had felt so light—so easy—the night before.

(It hurts everywhere. That's strange. Reapers aren't supposed to be able to feel hurt.)

The walls close in on you, and you don’t try to stop them. You sink down to kneel next to the shattered glass and cup it into your hands, barely feeling the stinging pain as it digs into your skin, pinpricks of black powder seeping out through fresh cuts.

You think that this—this—is your karma.

You kind of really hate yourself.

#finn's arbiters #writeblr #creative writing #write #writers #writing #original content #original work #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years

Note

This is just an idk....... something i thought of from the last of your comic about the brothers getting caught lying to Vanessa.

I can see Freddy and Gregory getting to the room Sun is in and bashing it in. The first thing that they would see would be bits of rays and oil littering the floor from Gregory's flashlight. He moves the light around and they see a whimpering sun vibrating in the corner. He is whispering for moon, begging for his brother to answer. They slowly convince him to leave. More lightly grabbing by the wrist and dragging at first, until Gregory thinks of the flashlight. But even after giving it to Sun, it is Freddy guiding Sun since he can't really see and is in no state of mind to know where he's going. He's shaking so badly that he fumbles and drops the flashlight. After the first couple of times Gregory stayed by his other side to catch it and quickly but carefully hand it back to him. Making a point of when he does to wrap his little hands around Sun's to at least for the moment, have a proper grasp on it.( And hopefully calm him) It would continue like this; Light tugs to corral Sun the right way and sounds of quiet sobs/ hiccups. Once or twice Gregory missed catching the flashlight and the clank of the flashlight, which made Sun jump/flinch. As they get closer to reuniting with Monty and Moon, Freddy can (smell?????) the oil and slows down, calling out to Monty first. They come around the corner, oil dripping down Monty's arms from Moon's body. Moon is shriveled up in the fetal position, his face tucked into Monty's chest. His legs dangle. His pants torn and soiled with oil; while the rest of him twitches and shakes. He doesn't speak. Sun drops the flashlight and tries to bolt to his brother. The urge to rip him from Monty and hug/cover him overtakes his thoughts. It takes all Freddy has to wrap his arms around Sun and stop him from rushing in and possibly hurting Moon more than he already his. Monty takes a step back (remembering the restraints still work). Sun screams and begs to be let go. That he wants his bother and cries as he wildly wriggles himself around in Freddy's arms. He pleads, promises, begs that he'd be good, that he would never lie again. That he wanted to take his bothers place and that it was all his fault. Freddy tightens his grip. He wants to let go, to let them get back together, but he needed to do this. It was for their own good. Freddy tries to explain this to him but Sun cant hear him. He is too focused on the faint whir of his brothers body. The sight of his brother's oil covering his lower half and the last thing Moon said to him ringing in his mind. He goes limp in Freddy's arms, "MOON"

Once Freddy and the others get the boys together they are going to need repairs. Will they be willing to go to parts and services, if that's not where they already are? I haven't written angst in a while, hope it meh. Sorry for it being sooooo long.

Okay this is SUPER well written, and fairly accurate to what I was thinking of tbh!! :D I don’t mind the length either, I really appreciate all asks!

I can absolutely see Infected Sun being dead silent, or at least really quiet. I like that idea because it feels like they are both acting opposite their normal natures; Moon being loud when first discovered and Sun being really quiet. Though I can't see him staying still for that long; He'd probably be pacing around the room a lot. Infected Sun can't stay still on a good day, so when stressed? They'd basically have to chase him around the room to corral him. Gregory would definitely be the one to bring up giving him the flashlight, and while it would probably calm him down some I feel he would still be really scared and partially unwilling to leave the room. Now, he doesn't like how dark the room is, but he also would be too scared to get out of the room because it doesn't feel safe anymore. He hates being away from Moon, because whenever he's away from him he doesn't feel safe anymore. And, as far as he's aware, Moon is dead.

Monty is definitely going to end up breaking the restraints before actually bringing him out of the room, though he still would be practically immobile. I haven't shown it yet, but the restraints burnt through the plastic AND metal from the intensity of the heat it produced, so his wrist joints and neck is exposed down to the endoskeleton. Infected Sun would be INSANELY distraught about seeing his brother like that, and even more distraught that he can't hug him as that's the only way he knows how to help his brother. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt his brother, and he got reminded about this from Freddy who would basically have to hold him back.

It would be a mess. To answer your question, yes they are technically in parts and services. They are in the maintenance tunnels directly attached to that room, so they're pretty close- though they'd never willingly go there, especially not after what they went through. Moon especially, as he would probably see it as a punishment and insist that he just had a punishment (he's still convinced that Vanny only put Moon in that room to punish him, but had no intention of him dying). Sun agreed that any more punishments would be harsh, and that would definitely force them to explain to the twins that she wasn't really punishing them, especially not Moon.

I hadn't added this detail when I posted the comic, but while Moon damaged his legs that's not the reason why they stopped working; They stopped working because his legs were forced to shut down. It's a safety measure when exposed to high levels of electricity for long periods of time. So that the rest of the body can continue to function, less needed parts of his body start to shut down to preserve energy. His legs powered off, and if he had stayed in that room much longer his voice box would've followed shortly. Essentially, the longer the time goes on the more of his suit will shut down, starting from his feet and ending eventually at his head. Monty would probably bring this up, and ask that realistically, there's no other explanation for what Vanny was trying to do.

Moon is the second strongest animatronic besides for Monty himself. If she was going to betray him, as she had, she would have to do it in a way that would ensure that he couldn't retaliate. With the way it was set up, worst case scenario he would just be highly crippled while best case scenario- and what she had planned- was that eventually the electricity would effectively shut down everything. If they hadn't intervened, he wouldn't actually of lived through that situation.

While she didn't succeed in her goal, her plan still worked; After all, she did cripple him to the point where he wasn't a threat anymore. And realizing that it was on purpose would be devastating. His one job is to protect his brother, and he literally can't do that anymore. That means he's useless now, and he hates that. He can't even hit anything because of how damaged his hands are.

He'd probably try to at least fix some of the rays that Sun pulled out automatically, but end up hurting himself in the process and break down because he can't even hold a plastic triangle without hurting himself now, which would then make Sun feel awful because he knows he shouldn't of hurt himself and now he made his brother sad, and he can't help him because he doesn't know how to make him not be in pain, and seeing Sun distraught makes Moon feel horrible and wish he wouldn't of screamed even if he couldn't help it. Again, feedback loop that one of the others have to break.

#fnaf moon #moondrop #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sunrise #sundrop #fnaf security breach au #crazy twins au #fnaf gregory #fnaf glamrock freddy #fnaf monty #fnaf vanny #tw trauma #tw electricity

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

caught

— You’re caught in a web after flying a little bit too recklessly and along comes your one and only savior who requests a little help from you too as the price of freeing you.

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pairing: naga!kirishima eijirou x fem fairy!reader

warnings: fairy!reader, naga!kirishima, smut, 18+, coercion, dubcon, hypnotism, oviposition, double penetration, begging, heat/rut, size diff

word count: 4,004

a/n: BAHAHA I wrote this in like 3 hours because I decided to instead watch some soul eater last night & I like it so far! ah, well, ive never actually read naga fics before, or oviposition,,, so fair warning, enjoy! also, read the damn warnings.

kinktober day 7 main kink: size difference

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The world was a magical one.

The planet was crawling with mythological creatures steaming from the smallest of pixies to the largest Kraken. The world was full of mystery, wonder, and adventure. Fire breathing dragons and cursed powerful swords were hidden away from the few humans and elves to discover. As in any civilization, there were those who got along and those who didn’t.

Some species of creatures got along with everyone, there were others that were feared beyond reason, and a few that were loved for moments and feared for others.

You were a fairy.

And you were tiny.

Standing no more than three apples high, you had iridescent wings that curled and shone in the glimmering light whenever you so much as moved. You were a good fairy, you always have been. You were often found assisting with a multitude of mythical creatures and humans on quests and as companions. Despite your small stature, you were fast, zipping, and gliding faster than most could ever dare to catch up with.

You loved your wings, loved flying, loved having the wind whistling through your ears while you dove between branches and branches, laughing while your pixie friends failed to keep up with you. Your mother had always fluttered her wings in annoyance and partial anger when you were younger and would often outspeed her, leaving her screaming your name while she desperately tried to keep up.

What could you say? You were a daring fairy, an adventurous one at that too.

But she always warned you, even back then, of the dangers of being a small, tiny, pretty fairy who flew at speeds much faster than you should be capable of.

The wind whipped against your face, stinging at your nose, chapping your lips, and whooshing through your ears as you grew faster and faster. The traces of magic falling from your wings creating a beautiful, sparkling trail behind you as you whooped out in excitement and thrill.

“Slow down, y/n!” your friends screamed from what sounded like many trees behind you, and like the daring showoff you were, you cork spiraled around a set of hanging branches with a loud laugh.

But as you straightened out, ready to move onward, you realized that something, thick, heavy, and sticky had caught onto the tip of your wing, and you catapulted backward.

A spider’s web.

Even in a world of fantasy and mystery, spiders existed to catch flying pests, and to some, you were just that.

Panic consumed you, white fire coursing through every magical vein in your body as you thrashed and shook in the webs. Your hands grabbed onto the sticky strands around your wings, a desperate attempt to free yourself only to find yourself even more tightly wound up in the damp, near-transparent threads.

A pathetic whimper left your mouth, your head dropping to your chest as silent, hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Your wings fluttered weakly, looking nothing too far from the insects and flies you were so used to seeing caught up in these webs. You strained your ears, trying to listen to the few pixies you had been flying and playing with, but even with your immense speed advantageous over them, you knew that they should be near.

But nothing.

You sat there on the web for minutes that seemed to bleed into hours, silently waiting for your friends to come and save you… but it seemed for naught.

…

“Help…”

“Please help…”

You had been trapped for hours.

Each passing second both dooming you to a life as spider food for the Arachne that had still yet to return home. Or maybe possibly a snack for any large creature that may pass, or an undeserving elf or human plucking you free and demanding to use their powers on a quest you would never approve of. That, or maybe you’d die of hunger.

There was no stopping the growl in your stomach or the parched dryness of your throat for your desperate, pathetic cry of help.

But it seemed that when your friends not-your-friends anymore said this part of the forest was for the most part void of all pixie and fairy eating creatures, it seemed that it was just void of all creatures. Pouting, you felt another rush of frustrating tears well up in your eyes, your cheeks huffing and face steaming as soft chimes of bells erupted from you while you seemingly threw a temper tantrum, not one-second closer from freedom.

Your breathing turned sharper, heavier, and overall shallow. In a flash of fury, you thrummed your wings as fast as you could, trying your best to fly out of this entrapment. To your slight excitement, you managed to loosen the webs around your wings for just a moment, your smile bursting oh so prematurely onto your face before it all went wrong again. As if the web was alive as well, it seemed to suddenly stiffen and drag you back into its sticky confines only for you to be even more trapped onto the mass web.

Like a broken dam, the tears streaming down your face were stinging, plentiful, and unable to stop.

You mourned the end of your life like this, so pathetic, so absolutely stupid way to go: caught on a spiderweb.

“Now, now, little one, why are you crying?” came a voice so soft yet incredibly loud voice, and you stiffened straight despite having a potential savior.

You couldn’t see them, and with how the web was wrapped around you, you couldn’t even dare to turn your head around to stare at them. You couldn’t look at him, sure, but you knew just through the tenor and low thunder of his voice that your potential savior or wolf in sheep’s clothing was undoubtedly a robust, powerful mythological creature.

Despite the way his voice seemed to whisper in your ears, you heard the familiar noise of someone moving through the grounds of the forest. The fallen dead leaves that scattered on the floor crackling with his movement. You trembled although you didn’t make a noise, not even a small bell chime of your wings.

“Are you in need of assistance, little one?” he continued to ponder as if blind to the was you oh so very not discreetly clammed up at the sudden sound of his voice. “If you so require it, I would be more than willing to assist you in your freedom. It pains me to see such a beautiful, full of potential little fairy go to waste.”

The tongue in your mouth felt pathetically dry, your chest rising and collapsing at incredible speeds for someone of your composition of size.

“Oh, are you fearful of me, little one?” he seemed to laugh, finding your fear to be humorous, comical, really. “Most individuals at least wait until they peer into my eyes to find themselves unwilling to move or speak.”

The web shook with the vibrations of his voice. And you whined at the back of your throat as that small fact merely confirmed the size of the male creature standing behind you. You found yourself fearful of that playful tone on his voice, but you also knew that as a tiny fairy, you were quite foolish in fear when found in predicaments such as this one. You had to trust the creature behind you should you wish to escape.

“W-Would you mind freeing me?” you asked, making an attempt to sound powerful and in control despite the tremor on your lower lip and the way your voice was near childish in comparison to his own. How you actually thought fairies sounded on the same pitch as to many creatures before was beyond you, for at the moment, you deemed yourself to be no greater than a child speaking to an old man. “I was trapped while racing, and well, these frisky spiderwebs are quite the worst at capturing things that don’t deserve to be captured.”

Oh? Is that so?” his voice chuckled. His body, without a doubt, moments from yours if the way the gentle breath of his laugh brushed against your neck had anything to say about it. “I’ve always been told that they’re especially good at capturing pests.”

You flustered.

“Yet here we are!” you pathetically countered, your wings fluttering in your distress. “If you wouldn’t mind freeing me, I would greatly appreciate it!”

“But, of course,” he spoke with great pride, and you shuddered when warm, large finger seemed to easily scoop you out from the webs. Your wings fluttered when the tight restraints of the traps were done, but not entirely freed from your beautiful wings. “Relax your wings, little one, I know you’re antsy to move, but there are still a great number of leftover webs on those wings of yours. Relax, I promise you no harm as I take these webs off.”

You shivered as his warm, strong fingers worked the plenty of sticky strands of webs off of you as if they were nothing but flyaway thread used for clothing. Speaking of clothing, you peered down at the daisy and red dandelion seed dress you wore, your eyes wide with the hope that it hadn’t been ruined. You loved this outfit. But as you peered down at your cotton shoes, you froze when you finally took in the hand you were resting upon.

It was huge.

Without a doubt, his palm was the size of your entire body, the fingers long and thick with intimidating claws that demanded a bit of concern.

“There, all done,” he hummed, and you shook your wings, looking at the thing iridescent wings that made you a fairy, and you felt him turn his hand around where you rested. Your eyes, already wide with the looming dread in your stomach, seemed to become saucers the size of the moon when you came face to face with a naga.

Nagas, half-snake half-human, were a few creatures in this world that were both loved and hated by others — your kind included.

His scales were black, glinting red under the setting copper sun, and he was absolutely massive. You had seen nagas only a handful of times, three to be honest, but each other those times, you knew that they were hardly more massive than humans. But this male naga before you was enormous as he was solid. Rippling muscles on every exposed part of his human body and his snake bottom were large, thick, full of rippling coiling muscles that could probably strangle anyone who attempted to fight him. He had full, spikey red hair, scars on his arms, and one splitting his eyebrow. His red, slitted eyes seemed vast, cunning, and terrifying while he lifted you up to eye level. And his smile, oh his smile. Jagged, sharp teeth with lips pulled into a cunning, just a bit too sweet smile.

Naga, for the most part, were peaceful creatures. They were strong fighters, fierce protectors, all due to the fact that they were just so much larger than their co-inhabititors of the world, but they were peaceful. They slithered about most of the year, helping those who came and went, but there were moments in the year where they were of concern.

During the late spring, early summer, they were hit with their heats and ruts. Powerful naga soon filled with the lusting, overwhelming desire to shove their fertile eggs into anything that would hold them. Nagas, who mated with nagas, were known to have wrestled as their mating dance, almost wiping out many towns in their horny, hot desires, and you froze suddenly feeling the thick waves of heat coming off the naga before you.

“W-Well, thank you!” you stammered, your body bowing lowly for the naga before you whose splitting smile was becoming stamped in your brain. “I appreciate you freeing me, but I must go now. Supper is waiting for me!”

“What’s your name, little one?” the naga instead asked, his clawed finger caressing your cheek so softly, so accurately, you nearly thought he was set on taking off your head. “I would like to know the name of the beautiful fairy I saved today.”

There was power in knowing names in this world, fairy names especially, so you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach on account to this, or the way fear stimulated every cell in your body.

“I-I can’t um, I can’t tell you,” you whimpered when his thick, large finger hooked underneath your chin to raise your head.

“Ah, it’s okay, little one, I promise I won’t do you wrong,” he promised, the lure in his voice — an advantage that nagas held in their times of heat. His voice was a warm blanket, smoothly pulling your eyes closed, making your wings flutter in your lulling excitement. “You can trust me.”

“Trust… you?” you spoke, mimicking his words, feeling like you were swimming in a warm, gooey honey trap. You bit down on your lower lip, heat rushing to your face as you stared upon his still cunning, sly grin as he traced his massive finger down from your wet, pouty lower lip to your hip. “I don’t… I can’t stay for longer?”

“Is that a question on your tone, little one?” he asked, his forked tongue flicking through his pointed teeth. “Can’t you stay? I have a favor to ask of you.”

A heavy, pitchy moan broke through your mouth as the tip of his claw dragged from your navel to your suddenly blistering core. Were you always this wet? How did you get so wet?

“But I…” you struggled to think, your eyes shut tightly, face twisting as you tried to figure out where you were needed right now. “I need to go… somewhere?”

“Somewhere?” he asked, voice light, buttery smooth. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I… was?”

“Yes, little one, look at me,” he kissed the air, and you found your eyes pressing open, your jaw dropping when his piercing red eyes hypnotizing you. “Open those pretty little legs for me, I want to see if you’re fit enough to be my dam, my mate.”

Why that sent bubbling gasps from your tongue and sent your legs apart was beyond you, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He had called you his mate… his dam.

His finger shoved between your legs, gently rubbing the massive finger that was probably nearly your height between your legs, catching onto your clit, sending resonating, shaking mewls from your throat. You collapsed forward, hips rutting back against his finger, your tiny fingers holding onto his knuckles, your eyes fluttering in this euphoria.

It felt so good.

So good, so good, “please more!”

You sobbed at the feeling of his finger coming up to allow more friction between you and your throbbing cunt, the bone of his knuckle-dragging so deliciously, so roughly against your throbbing clit that you started to feel weak in your knees.

“Call me Kirishima,” he growled, his finger flipping underneath you so that the pad of his finger could now press onto your clit, gathering your dripping slick as he does so. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Ei,” you spluttered, eyes barely open to watch the way his slitted pupils were dilated with his lust, the smell he was emitting without a doubt one of an alpha male plunging further within his rut. “This feels so good, please give meeeEE ahhh, oh god, give me more!”

Kirishima growled out a peal of chilling laughter, one that had your wings fluttering in their heavy, lucid attempt to fly and kiss the man that could swallow your entire body as if you were nothing more than a potato chip to him. You keened, one of your hands shakily removing themselves from his finger, stretching out to him.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” you beg, your heaving breathes almost in synch with your wildly bucking hips.

“You want a kiss?” he hummed, bringing your tiny body close enough to tease you, but not near enough for you to plant a desperate, small kiss to his smooth, curling large lips. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” you promised, watching as his forked tongue flashed between his teeth, his eyes flashing with his shaking control on the situation. Your cheeks scorched at the sight of him wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. The dam in you jittering at the knowledge that he was a good mate, a good person by holding back, trying to keep his control before giving in. But you wanted him as deep as you were. You wanted to feel his finger intruding your clenching, spasming walls, to try and take on his undoubtedly huge cock.

You wanted to try it.

You wanted him.

“Anything you want, I will give you!” you shriek with promise, your clit feeling numb from the overstimulation and lack of release as you could not reach it without penetration.

“Your name,” Kirishima growled, his lips dangerously close. “And promise to carry my — our children.”

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” you frantically claim, knowing you would do it all just for his lips against yours, and finally, he was close enough, his bottom lip nearly the size of your entire face as you kissed him again and again.

His lips were pursed, allowing your frantic kisses to have lain all over his awaiting soft lips. You shuddered at the electric sensation coursing through you with every second, and your wings fluttered in your excitement, bringing you up into the air, lifting you off his palm.

“Your name?” he commanded, the hand you abandoned running a taloned finger down the spine of your back, pleasantly, orgasmically feeling as he reached the spot between your sensitive wings. You loved the feeling and keened against his mouth.

“Y/l/n y/n!”

“And you will have my children?”

“Yes!”

A possessive, all encompassing cross between a growl and a hiss slipped through his lips, and you looked down with your lust dipped eyes to see the two, twisted cocks he was rutting into his free hand. You cried at the fact that it wasn’t your cunt the sharp, near hook looking tip of his cock wasn’t ramming into.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Kirishima snarked, his eyes bright and humorous as he caught you by your wings. You moaned loudly at the lusting pull of your wings that you could feel pulsing into your core. “You’re not ready for my cock or eggs just yet.”

“But I wanna…” you cry, fingers stretching out toward the two writhing cocks that seemed to call your name. “I wanna try!”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, his hand that was not occupied with his massive cocks releasing your wings and gently stroking your face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you can try in a bit. I just don’t want my little one splitting in half before she’s been made useful!”

Your pouting and mouthwatering person turned to face Kirishima again, whose once red eyes were completely black in his rutting lust.

“Split in half?” you echoed, a slight pain pinching your pussy, the thought of being split in two for those cocks not quite as horrendous as it should be. “Will I be?”

“Not if you stretch yourself out first,” Kirishima corrected, entirely missing your slight hope to be torn in half by his cock. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my finger at first. Do that, and I’ll let you sit on my cock and birth my eggs.”

A chill ran down your back, and you nodded, suddenly more than willing to throw yourself onto anything he would give you to prove yourself. And with his free hand, he presented his long ring finger whose talon was missing, most likely gone from some sort of battle.

But it didn’t matter. It was enough for you to prove yourself.

Fluttering over to his finger, you dropped the small panties you owned onto his exposed palm before placing your sopping cunt right above his extended finger. You lowered yourself onto the tip, spreading your essence slick against his skin, your eyes unabashedly half-lidded as you watched the muscles in his arm pick up speed as you made eye contact with the excited naga.

And with a twirl of your hips and a moan that vibrated straight through your chest, you sank onto his finger.

It truly did feel like his splitting you in half. You recognized immediately at the way your walls nearly couldn’t keep up with how he opened you up. His finger was already giant within your spongey, tight walls. The heat and the callouses of his appendage unreplicable as you silently screamed, your walls spasming tightly around him, an orgasm taking you out without warning. You heaved, exhaustion ticking your brain as the soft bounces you made to further his finger up your cunt making you whine. He was huge, his finger huge. But you liked the fullness it brought you, the way you struggled not to send yourself flying off his finger like some rocket while you continued to fuck yourself against him.

You could do it, you could do it.

Soft wet noises filled the air as Kirishima’s aggressive stroking of his leaking cocks, and the way his finger seemed to be so loud in your tight cavern filled the forest.

More, give him more.

Pressing the collar of your outfit down, your legs wrapped around his finger as you continued to fuck yourself up and down his finger while your hands groped and pinched at your breasts, your eyes rolling back in your horny excitement. You could feel your orgasm growing again. You could tell by the clenching quivering of your spongey, velvet walls against his finger that you were close yet again.

“Fuck, little one, you’re taking my finger so well,” Kirishima sang in his praise, his snake tail coiling and thrashing wildly beneath the both of you, and you longed to feel the snake scales beneath your blazing core too. “Are you ready for my cock? I’m so close, so close. You made me like this, little one, so fucking hot, so sexy, fuck.”

You mewl loudly, your body well aware of the lewd scene he was creating with the way he wrangled his twin cocks in his hand. Your head dropped backward, a high pitched wail shooting through you when his finger moved within you, and you nodded your head as quickly as you could. Your legs relaxing around him as Kirishima quickly picked you off his finger, and without even three seconds of being empty again, two sharp, writhing cocks slammed within your cunt.

You staggered against his hold, body convulsing at the feeling of his snake cock flicking and twirling within your womb, stimulating the puffy, wet walls that were erratically beating, as the both of you came with loud, joint moans.

White filled your vision as your wet juices splattered down his cock, and the weirdest, almost constipating feeling filled you as solid, cold, and round objects filled your womb. Making the drool in your mouth dribble down the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four eggs.

Four eggs for you to grow, four kids you would have with Kirishima, and you sobbed in elation.

“I can feel them, Ei!” you sobbed, content with the babies he just gave you, already expanding your tiny little stomach to the optimal length it could reach. “Our babies!”

Kirishima chuckled, removing your from his cock and placing your pregnant little tiny body onto his shoulder, a sign that he would protect you through anything and everything.

“I can’t wait until they hatch, little one.”

And with that, he nuzzled against your face. And you vibrated in your happiness, more than willing to take on the world as Kirishima continued forward in the world. There was no looking back now.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: dubcon

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dreamylyfe-x · 3 years

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Your trevor meta is making me realize how weird it is that the writers and cast were so insistent that mickey wasn't coming back, because I don't think theyve ever really known what to do with ian's story without him. They put him in these lukewarm relationships and tell us they're so much better and healthier, but then have ian straight up admit that he still loves mickey and nobody else has made him feel the same way. How do they set that up and then have him go back to trevor? They set up ian moving on with "I'm not that person anymore" and follow up with season 8. It's like okay...who he is now is gay Jesus? Lmao. He's always been the shows forgotten middle child and after they wrote mickey off "for good" they could have taken him in a million directions but they chose one so shitty it basically made cam leave lmao. Sometimes it feels like fan insistence kind of forced mickey back but in actuality, the seasons where he's gone just hammer home that he was always the inevitable end to ian's story. So bizarre how little the showrunners understand their own story sometimes.

Ok. I’m going to be a little more Doylist here than I usually am, because we’re talking about what the writers are thinking. And I’m also going to take this opportunity to share this fascinating article from the AV Club in 2016: When Fan Engagement Goes Wrong. Everyone beware, it contains significant spoilers for The 100. But it’s also largely about Gallavich, the fact that online promotion of Shameless leaned hard into the popularity of the couple, and were up against it when Noel left. I’ll quote:

“[Supervising Producer Shelia] Callaghan’s choice to be honest and straightforward when engaging with fans is admirable, and yet also on some level futile. She can’t tell them exactly why Fisher chose to leave, she is (logically) unwilling to spoil future storylines outright, and she can only speak her own mind as part of a collaborative process over which she holds only some influence. So while many fans respect her effort to maintain the connection to this now marginalized community, others attack, reinforcing that attempting to manage these situations is a full-time job that no one has been properly trained for.”

This article links some tweets and the one I find the most interesting is this one:

“But the actor left. So...what to do? Have them just break up?? Felt way less true to me than a forced separation!”

That tweet is from Krista Vernoff, who wanted to convey that they tried really hard to come up with what they do with Ian now that he’d lost Mickey. And I’m sure they did try really hard. And.... People hated it. Mostly.

Here’s what I think, based on what I’ve read and the interviews I’ve seen, on deleted tweets and Tumblr rumours and YouTube clips: The show didn’t want Mickey to leave the canvas. At all. Noel wanted more money. The show could not come up with both that money and the money they needed for everyone else. The show let him go. And hoped they could solve the creative problem their budgetary problem had dumped in their lap.

I actually think Ian’s story in season six is decent. I miss Mickey, of course. I find the last scene with him really painful -- but it’s not painful because the show is trying to diminish him. They write and then cut together a scene where Mickey is DEMONSTRATIVELY still deeply in love with Ian. He’s carved his name in his chest. He is looking at Ian like he’s the most beautiful creature ever given breath. And Ian can barely meet his gaze. They tell us Mickey is being sent away for 16 years but when we see the last of Mickey Milkovich in season six I think “God, this is so sad. They love each other so much and this is so fucked up.”

I do NOT think “We are NEVER EVER EVER getting back together.”

The show always knew what it had with Ian and Mickey. They leaned into it promotionally. They gave meaty storylines to the characters, particularly given that Ian was the fourth lead on a family dramedy built around six children. John Wells replaced Aaron Sorkin on The West Wing. He knows how hard it is to follow a phenomenon.

The more I think about it, honestly? I don’t think they tried. I think they knew that they couldn’t bring in Mickey Milkovich, the sequel in season six, so they brought in Caleb. And maybe they meant for him to be a LITTLE more viable than he was... but I think there’s a pretty good chance they were just throwing something at the wall to see if it stuck, while being fully aware that the important storyline in season six was getting Ian from despair to a fulfilling career. Caleb was just there as a catalyst.

Season seven if more interesting, because Trevor is brought on and it’s very much... “Hey, let’s do something new. Let’s bring on a transmasc character and put him into a relationship with Ian and explore those complications.”

“Great! Put it up on the board!”

“Also. Let’s call Noel Fisher’s people and see what we can work out because we can do better with Mickey’s send off and people are yelling at me on the street about it.”

Quite honestly, these are not equal tasks for his writer’s room. You have one story -- Create a whole ass new character. The only thing we know is that he’s trans. Figure out the romance from there. You have six episodes to get them together as an established couple.

Then: Bring back the well-established and beloved character for an epic romantic two-episode arc where he reunites with his true love and they run away together and then ultimately realize it cannot be, and say goodbye and it all feels like I Will Always Love You should be playing in the background. They actors worked together for five years. They have a great professional partnership. They like working together. They have a ton of history so there’s lots of juicy subtext. The longing and sexual tension comes pre-established. See what you can do.

HOW do you make both those things work out so that they are equal? You need lightening to strike. And that already happened on How I Met Your Mother. They squandered their good luck and now there is none left for Shameless. I do not disparage Elliot Fletcher at all when I say that for Trevor and Ian to really work he’d have had to have come with scorching chemistry with Cam, rich material that really gave them a good opportunity to build rapport between the characters, and A wizard standing by to cast spells in the wings. They had SIX episodes, a pretty average connection between the actors, and the “these are the LGBTQ+ people in your neighbourhood” scene.

I just can’t believe that someone with as many years of TV writing under his belt as John Wells has expected that to work. He hoped the Trevor story might be good, and was certainly going to break some ground in terms of telling trans stories. And the Mickey story was going to be the highlight, because he knew people wanted it and he also knew that they’d had something pretty special to start with. Which is why people were yelling at him at Comic-Con. I DO think he hoped it might placate fans a bit. But... he wasn’t going to completely close the door on Mickey this time, either.

So... I don’t really think the show every intended to write Mickey off “for good”. I think they wrote him off “for now, and we’ll see what happens...” -- and they did that with Karen, Shelia, Jody, Steve and Fiona, too. They only brought a few of those people back... They brought Mickey back three times. They ended Gallavich FOUR times. Noel is in ever season except eight. I don’t think they wanted Mickey gone -- but I KNOW the fans also made it pretty hard for them not to know his value, so absolutely I think that played a role. But when you create something people love and you get that lightening in a bottle like they did with this story, I think writers are always going to be excited to get that back. They like praise! They like people to be excited about their show. And Gallavich was always one of the things that got people excited about Shameless.

I think they also wanted Gay Jesus to be a great story. But that’s why the lightening in the bottle is so valuable. You can’t just get it anywhere.

#asks #I hope this answered the question #I am honestly so interested in the behind-the-scenes efforts to make season 7 work #and I do think they wanted Gay Jesus to be a great story #and instead... Cam quit #because no #writing is hard #shameless season 7 #shameless season 6 #shameless season 8 #shameless without mickey #thanks for asking!#God I hope that was an answer #Gallavich meta

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