#yes I’m aware I cannot draw

[twolovelyberries]

posting the flats of this one before i fully shade it because i think it looks cool! (full disclosure i listened to so much electra heart while drawing this)

#death note #bitches will be like i have a completely new and original light yagami drawing idea *does the Hands Thing again* (it’s me. i’m bitches) #this is like the other hand things i’ve done but better bc takada is here <3 exposing myself as being a little obsessed with her #yes light has dimples. that was sort of an accident but i’m owning it now #sorry teru fans i can only draw him this one way. cannot take him seriously for the life of me also i didn’t feel like drawing his glasses #something something L is the only one aware of/looking at the camera. he is Seeing disrespectfully #death note fanart #my art #my art 2022 #light yagami #l lawliet #misa amane #shinigami rem #shinigami ryuk #(kind of) #teru mikami #kiyomi takada

[hyperfixat]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! here’s the first chapter to a new multi part series i’m working on! it’s an isekai of honkai star rail. (sahsrau, sort of…?) ANYWAY!! enjoy,,, updates will be. idk maybe once a month so i don’t get stressed about pumping out chapters… this baby has been baking for a few months in the drafts already LMAO. likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3 and my reqs are perpetually open! 4.1K words.

next >

** Written PRE 1.4 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcannons.

Your dailys are finished and there’s no new content, so you decide to look for some hidden quests throughout the map. You’re sure you’ve collected all the chests on the Herta Space Station, but you use a teleport waypoint there anyway. Caelus (although that is not what you have named them,) sprints under your control, running against the invisible wall separating available land from unavailable land.

You click aimlessly, your character summoning their weapon of choice, a bat in this case, and attacking the blank divider. They hit it a few times, the animation sparking as they attacked the blank. It’s not like you’re expecting something to happen, although a person can hope, but then something does happen.

The office around you, where you’re playing on your PC blurs. You attempt to clear your vision with a few harsh blinks, but your vision only gets worse. It’s golden tunnel vision to your computer screen, the Trailblazer isn’t there, oddly enough, but that doesn’t quite matter at the moment, as you feel the world around you warp. Your body and soul, something you weren't even aware of, are pulled, nay sucked, into your screen. The screen, something that should be impermeable, gives way like nothing, like air.

Something as large as the human body should not be able to fit through your screen, but you do. Somehow you do.

It’s warm and hot and cold and freeing as it is oppressive.

You’re disoriented and confused, and for some reason you know you’re no longer alone and in your office.

Tentatively you allow yourself to move and lift your head. Instead of being seated on your desk chair, you’ve fallen into a heap in… is this one of the rooms in the Supply Zone? That.. that cannot be right. That’s in a video game and this is real life.

…Right?

What are you thinking about?! Of course this is real life, just a dream, yes, a dream. What are they called, lucid dreams? That makes sense, you’re lucid dreaming, even if you’ve never had one before, you’re lucid dreaming.

Well if you’re lucid dreaming, maybe you can have some fun? What do you do?

Fuck, you aren’t prepared for this.

Before you can think of something good someone moseys into the modern-style storage room you're in. Oh, hey, it’s the main character of Honkai: Star Rail, the game you were playing before falling into this lucid state. You want to greet them; you should greet them.

Wait, do you call them Caelus or the name you put into the game? Ah, wait, can you pause this?

“Huh? What are you doing in here?” Their voice sounds… well just like it does in game.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer because you don’t know what you’re doing here. They wait for a reply, head tilting cutely as you think of a comprehensible answer.

“I’m… not sure.” You draw out the sentence as if by prolonging the words a better answer would appear.

Caelus walks closer to you, moving from the doorway to stand only a foot away holding out their hand to help you up.

“Are you lost? What part of the base are you stationed at? I know this place really well, I can help you find where you belong.” The confidence in their voice wanes, “Well, by your clothes…” their brow creases “are you from here?”

“Uh, I don’t, I don't know.”

They purse their lips, head tilting as they think. “Well, I don’t know who I should bring you to. You’re not a threat, at least not yet. Herta would be my first guess, but I don’t like her, and she might not even care or respond.” Another moment as they ponder, “let’s go find Mr Yang. He might be able to help jog your memory, or find out where you’re supposed to be.”

“Okay.” The walk through the station feels like a fever dream, though this is a dream, so that makes sense.

Caelus pulls open the heavy metal door to the Astral Express and holds out a hand to help you climb up inside. They don’t let go of your hand as you enter the passenger cabin.

“Mr Yang?” They call out, fingers readjusting over your own. Their hand is cool and comforting, realistic for a dream.

Welt Yang, sitting on the red curving couch looks up, setting down his book. His eyebrows raise when he sees that Caelus is not alone and is towing along a strange person dressed in even stranger clothes.

“Yes, Caelus? What do you need?” His eyes flicker between your faces before settling on Caelus’.

“This person, ah what’s your name?” They flush a pretty pink and turn to you, fingers flexing nervously around yours. When you give it to them, they repeat it aloud to Welt. “Is lost. How do we help them?”

Welt Yang frowns, a crease denting his forehead and he adjusts his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he gives a low, thoughtful hum.

“What did Madam Herta say? You found them on her vessel.” Caleus rubs the back of their neck, a pink falling over his cheeks and tinting his ears.

“Well, I was hoping to avoid taking them to her…”

Welt doesn’t react, as if already knowing the answer. “Well,” his amber eyes meet yours. “What do you say to staying on the Astral Express for the time being? Of course, we’ll have to check with the conductor to make sure that’s okay.”

Caelus nods, their eyes narrowing as they think. “Do you think Ms Himeko might have an idea of how to jog their memory?” Their body shifts towards you as do their eyes, “in any case, we should find Pompom first, that’s the conductor.”

You want to say you know exactly who Pompom is, but that would sound odd from what should be a stranger, wouldn’t it?

Speak of the devil, Pompom comes waddling their body over to your gaggle. They aren’t as small as the game made them seem, maybe four feet of smooth fluff, and a content face.

“Hi Trailblazer, hi Welt, hi… Hi.” They pause and look up into your face, their features contorting, before they accuse you. “You aren’t a passenger!”

“Oh.” You don’t really know how to respond to that. Aside from acknowledging the obvious, they haven’t given you anything worthwhile to say. Before the silence can become too suffocating Caelus comes to the rescue, saving you from the critical look of the conductor.

“About that!” They give the creature a charming smile, putting their body between yours and theirs. “I was hoping my new friend could stay on the express until they can remember where their home is.”

So that’s why you’re staying, well staying til you wake, maybe wake. Fuck, you need a minute, well maybe once it settles in and you realize that you can’t escape, and don’t know how or why you’re here. Oh, you hope this is just a sleep deprived, very immersive deep sleep.

“Hmm,” Pompom shoves past Caelus’ legs to size you up. Their large, animal eyes make you melt, and you offer them a shy, nervous smile. “We’re out of rooms, but,” they turn back to Caelus, “if you or another passenger are willing to share, Pompom guesses they can stay.”

“Thank you, Pompom,” your smile widens a bit more. “But, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to say that. I don’t know if anyone would want to share a room with me.” A breathy, panicky laugh leaves you, “I am a stranger here, after all.”

Pompom gives you one last, long look before shuffling away back to their rounds of the train.

“Hm, well, I understand where you’re coming from. But,” Caelus frowns and their eyes darken, going downcast, nervously. “I feel oddly connected to you. There’s more than one reason I didn’t take you to Madam Herta. I was hoping you might be able to stay on the Express, at least for a bit. So I could get to know you, a bit.” As your expression remains impassive, they’re quick to continue, taking hold of both of your hands. Their hands are large and warm, engulfing yours earnestly. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am trying to help you, however I can. Which is why I want to extend an invitation for you to stay with me, in my room.”

“Thank you, Caelus.” Warmth fills both your heart and face, both from the words and their touch alike. “I know you’re trying to help me, I truly appreciate it.”

They’re being so genuine, it makes you want to cry. How can you tell them this is all a dream, your dream at that. They aren’t even real, for crying out loud! The way they treat you makes you never want to wake up, stay so they can care for you, spend time with you. Would it be selfish to want to stay, to never leave, what would happen to your life if you never woke up, never left this dream (game, whatever it is now)?

You have the sudden urge to harm yourself, just for the sake of proving if this reality is just a dream or if some spatial temporal nonsense happened for you to get sucked into your PC’s game, turned real world.

The time you spend worrying cuts short when March 7th’s cheerful voice calls into the express. You hadn’t even noticed the metal screaming of the door as it was pried open.

“Caelus~ Help me convince Dan Heng to let us go back to the Xianzhou Luofu for some Berrypheasant Skewers and Immortal’s Delight- oh!” She’s spotted you. Her face lights up, an odd reaction, you think, upon seeing a stranger in what is essentially her home. “Hi there!”

“Hi,” you greet meekly, not used to being around someone so high energy. Not that you don’t like it, on the contrary she’s a very gregarious person, and the energy she brings makes you feel content.

“Caelus didn’t tell me they brought a guest!” March giggles. “It’s nice to see you, have we met before? I’d hate to think I’d forgotten your face.”

“No, you haven’t met me before.” It’s not a lie, you craft your words carefully. You know her though, very well, at that.

“Oh, well you can call me March 7th! What’s your name?” She fully enters the compartment now, the heavy train door slamming loudly behind her. She’s really pretty and cute in person, you wish that your mind could come up with any better words to describe her, but your mouth feels more than a little dry as she gets closer to you. You tell her, words sounding like mush, but she smiles and repeats it back to you, giving it a compliment.

She makes your heart stutter, and you smile at her, a little dumbly. Luckily Caelus seems sympathetic to your plight (going dumb at the sight of a pretty girl) and takes over explaining why you’re here.

“Memory loss, huh?” March pulls a sympathetic face. “I can relate. Well, you seem like a lovely person, and a friend of Caelus is a friend of mine, so my door is always open if you need to talk.”

Your deceit feels harsh, because you don’t have memory loss. Now March might try to bond over this perceived shared trauma, one that you don’t have…

March pats your shoulder in an attempt to soothe, a rush of her scent (solidifying this is more than a dream) fills your nose, fresh, clean, and sweet.

“Thank you, March, I appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend!” March turns to Caelus, who lets your hands go as March engages them in a conversation. “Now, Caelus, help me convince Dan Heng to vote for Xianzhou Luofu on this week’s stop! I really want some of the local food.” She exaggerates the ‘really’ dramatically, making her eyes wider; the epitome of puppy dog style begging.

“Ah,” Caelus turns their head away, squeezing their eyes shut. “I already was planning on voting for Jarilo VI, and I’m pretty sure Dan Heng is dead set on his vote for another week at the space station.”

March sighs in disappointment, eyeing Welt as her next target before, “Wait! You’re officially a passenger now!” She is talking to you, “won’t you please vote for the Xianzhou Luofu as this week’s destination?”

The Xianzhou Luofu, you think about it. They don’t know that you know the place like the back of your hand, but it’s not like you have anything against the place. In fact, you’d rather not face the harsh cold of Jarilo VI so new to this world.

Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that right now, the fact you’re stuck here for who knows how long, and you’re passively deceiving everyone you meet. Your knees feel a bit weak, but you manage to force an agreeable response to March.

“I’m feeling a bit tired, Caelus,” you grab their forearm to steady, “could I have a moment to lay down?”

“Oh shit,” they steady you, leading you to the couch, and helping you lay diagonally. Your eyes slip closed. Not caring about what you make yourself look like, you turn your face into the back cushion, tightening the harshness of how tight your eyes are closed.

Are you really stuck here? Is this more than a dream? Without fully realizing it, you drag your blunt nails over the length of your forearm. A soft, trembling gasp disguises the hiss of pain you make. Not a dream.

Fuck, not a dream.

You push your face deeper into the cushion, inhaling the scent of dust and fabric. The sensory input makes you even more certain this isn’t a dream. How do you go back to your world? Are you a missing person yet? What harm will come if you stay here, both to this world and your world? Do you tell them the truth?

How earth-shattering would it be to find out that your whole life is nothing but code? You are but a character built to entertain millions, any sense of individuality and personhood would surely fade. You can’t do that to them, can you?

But maybe it would help you get back to where you belong…

It hits you then, Welt Yang. Well, he doesn’t hit you. He’s still reading his book on the couch opposite to you. You’re no lore expert on any Honkai game except Star Rail, but he’s from like, another world as well, or something like that, right? Sure that world is another video game, probably, but alternate dimensions are alternate dimensions, right?

How would that conversation start? Hey Mr Yang, you’re a video game character and I’m from a different world, teehee can you help me figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? Would he even believe you? Would you even believe you?

A warm hand rubs over your upper back, along your shoulder blades and vertebrae. Caelus, your heart stutters, a funny thing, at how you already know how much you’ll miss them.

“Do you want to use one of my Life Transmitters or a Healing Spray?” They offer their voice, kind and calm. “Or would something like Comfort Food be more to your taste right now?”

You move your face out of the cushion, “thank you, Caelus, you’re too kind. I’ll be okay, just… thinking.” Thinking of how this shouldn’t be real, how you’re too good to be real.

“Of course, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, no matter how small.”

Caelus eventually left with March to pester Dan Heng, leaving you to revel in your confusing thoughts. After a few more minutes of lying on the couch, you steel yourself to face Welt Yang.

Thinking of his face is enough to make your hands clam up. Will he send you away and dismiss it as insane ramblings of nervous breakdown from one of Miss Herta’s overworked employees? He’ll believe you, won’t he? Surely a man of his caliber and experience can spot when someone is telling the truth, no matter how fantastical?

Pushing yourself up, you fight the tired and nerves that cling to you, and stand on unsteady legs. Welt looks up as you approach, folding the ear of the page he’s on and snapping the book shut.

“Uhm, Mr Yang, could we maybe talk in private?” Your voice sounds warbled, but if it’s more than a trick of your ears Mr Yang doesn’t let you know, instead offering you a reassuring smile and nodding.

“I will lead you to my room. No one will disrupt us there.” You’re glad he hasn’t questioned your intentions. Does he suspect you already and was unwilling to call you out openly?

Welt leads you down the sleeping cart aisle, maintaining a respectful distance from you the whole while.

He uses the handle of his cane to tap on his door handle, a jolt of pink-red magic and a click of the door’s locking mechanism and you are presented with your chance to talk to Welt Yang privately.

Welt’s eyes meet yours expectantly. You gulp.

“So. On a scale of one to one hundred how well would you react to me telling you this is a video game?” Yeah, and if this goes poorly you can pretend this was all a joke–!

Welt's previously curious harden into something more serious. “What?”

Ah fuck, nope, nevermind. “Hahaha.” It’s fake and painfully obvious to you both. “Sorry to bother you Mr Yang, I will see myself out.”

“No.” Welt positions himself between you and the exit. “Tell me.”

It’s hard not to spill the beans when those dark amber eyes bore into your very soul. And, you do.

You tell him how you got sucked through your PC and woke up in what should be simply pixels on your monitor. You tell him how you don’t know what to do and how he’s one of the only characters, well, you correct yourself, people, you thought might know how to help you.

Welt’s face is stoic and you purse your lips as your nerve filled ramble comes to an end. “How… odd.”

You’re sure it must be. Especially for him, learning he’s a game franchise’s tool, everything he’s done was all written out and predetermined by forces he has no hope to control.

Welt sits on the edge of his bed, cane used to steady himself. “I need a moment, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m the interloper here.” You kneel in front of him, trying to comfort the man in any way you can. After a brief hesitation you cover his hand with your own. Perhaps physical contact will bring some sense of consolation.

His brows are furrowed, but your touch lesses it minutely.

“Do you… want to go back?”

It’s a fair question, but you aren’t sure of the answer yourself. Because on one hand, being in this fantasy world with characters you like that treat you nicely is quite literally a dream come true, but on the other hand you have a life. Not anything important, you’re just a person. A person with friends and family and a job that all needs you.

You cannot be sure of how much time will pass before you can leave this world, universe, whatever. Is this even your real body? Is there an empty vessel sitting in your desk chair that will wither and decay while you explore the wide world of Honkai Star Rail? You are led to believe this is your real body due to the sensations that an artificial vessel wouldn’t feel.

But.

There are your favorite characters and they’re so so nice. So far.

Your inner turmoil must be showing on your face because Welt squeezes your hand, running his thumb over the back of your palm.

“I suppose a better question might be: are you comfortable staying in this world for a prolonged period of time?”

This time the answer comes easier, “yes.”

“That certainly makes things easier,” Welt relents.

“Do we tell anyone?” The question brings on another bout of quiet. You wet your lips, nerves still simmering from the confession you made.

“I think it would be best to keep it among the, how shall I phrase it, main characters?” Welt winces. “Who would they be? Me, if you know enough to confide in me, and who else?”

“Well, I don’t think you, the Express, like all the main characters, but,” you sigh, beginning to count off who you can think of. “Caelus, March, Dan Heng, you, Himeko, Sampo, Gepard, Serval, Bronya, Seele, Natasha, Luka, Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Herta; maybe, Asta, Arlan, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, Jinglui, Loucha… There might be more, but they seem to be the most lore relevant and repetitive so far.”

“Yes, I imagine some conflict might crop up with that roster…” Welt thinks. The way his brow furrows and his legs spread (manspreading… drool) is subtly attractive.

Ah, the Stellaron Hunters. You can and will admit you want to see Blade and Kafka badly, but if it could result in… tension, would it be worth it in the long run? Just to satiate your thirst? They’re so imposing in the best way possible.

“Hm. Do you want to tell them?” Welt interrupts your little Kafka slash Blade slash you fantasy.

After a moment of mentally debating, you decide that, “yes, I do. All of them.”

“Very well.” Welt gives a reassuring smile, “I will support you in any path you may choose to take.” And if that didn’t make butterflies flutter all the way from the pit of your tummy up to your throat.

“If they were to ask; how am I going to prove myself? Is there something that can show I’m not from this world?” Sudden anxiety seizes you, will your favorite characters mock you? You’d die.

“There’s nothing to say they won’t believe you. You’ve convinced me after all.” It helps you stay calm, and you nod seriously. There’s another gap where neither of you speak.

“Who will we see first, do you know?”

“How about the whole Express has a meeting and we can decide from there, sound good?” Ah, that smile. A shot to the heart it is.

“Yes, thank you, Mr Yang.” Your face is hot when you say it, suddenly desperate to leave the room and cool yourself.

Oblivious to your sudden burst of attraction, Welt continues on. “Of course, always feel free to stop by my room. I’d like to extend an invitation as the others have, if you want to rest in my room, you’re welcome to.”

Rounding up the entire Astral Express doesn’t take as long as you expected it to. Himeko was in her room; and March, Caelus, and Dan Heng weren’t far from the loading deck; and Pompom is always on the Express.

“So.” You start, folding your hands together and looking at everyone around the table. They’re all watching you, and it’s really sort of scary, but you need to be brave. “I’m not from… here.”

Honestly they take the news well. Sure there were some questions, some you knew the answer to, others you are unsure of yourself.

“Is that why,” Caelus cuts themself off. “I feel drawn to you.”

“Drawn to me?” Your head tilts curiously, “could you expand on that?”

“I feel it too,” Dan Heng murmurs, eyeing Caelus. At this you lean back, furrowing your brows in thought.

“Oh?” March leans into Dan Heng’s seat. “I think I know what they’re talking about.”

“Something, emotionally, maybe, makes me want to be close with you,” Himeko speaks to you directly for the first time. “It’s like a tugging in my chest telling me to care about you.”

Ignoring the blatant rush of heat to your cheeks, Caelus expands on Himeko’s words. “Exactly. I can’t explain how or why, but I feel that you’re important, at least to me.”

Fuck, they’re going to make leaving so hard, won’t they? They can’t just say things like that.

“Oh.” Processing those words is hard.

Noting the way you’ve halted and your body language, March hovers a hand over your forearm, debating whether to touch you.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” She asks, already sounding let down.

“No! No, not at all. It’s just.” You laugh, not out of humor or joy, but something nervous. “If you guys say things like that I’m not going to want to leave.”

“What if we don’t want you to leave?”

“I think that’s a conversation for another day, Caelus.” Welt steers the conversation back on track; what you really came to ask: “Where are we stopping first?”

next >

#verified hyperfixat post #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #trailblazer x reader #welt x reader #march 7th x reader #dan heng x reader #himeko x reader #astral express x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #star rail x reader #sahsrau #sorta #isekai #honkai star rail isekai #tagging is hard

[radioappleheadcanons]

Part 2 of this headcanon which was bouncing around my head and which @redwolf0413 freed

Alastor, for all he rags on Lucifer for being upset with him for what dream!Al, does the same. Or, well he’s only really done it once but the drama he caused was far more than any the blond had. The dream in question was one where Lucifer ended up being charmed by Vox, stopped supporting Alastor, and trash-talked several topics that Alastor trusted him with.

The deer demon was livid about it. It didn’t matter that he knew the king wouldn’t use those things against him. It didn’t matter that Vox was quite literally the person he was angry about Alastor interacting with. Doesn’t matter that no longer supporting him would hurt Charlie. None of it matters. He was just angry.

So angry that he, much like his partner, refused to talk and was very snippy with everyone else. But he is aware that he’s being hypercritical which is part of why he refuses to talk. Eventually, someone makes a comment comparing his behavior to Lucifer’s and he stiffens, which gives him away. Lucifer is a little annoyed about this. Because he knows how it feels, and it makes sense but at least he tells Alastor so they can fix it. After several attempts to get it out of him, the others give up. Alastor clearly isn’t going to be talking to them anytime soon. Charlie makes up an excuse to send the pair of them off to an empty part of the Hotel, hoping that if it's just the two of them, Alastor will talk.

They get to the room they’re supposed to be setting up. Alastor is still ignoring the king. Lucifer is getting exasperated. Neither of them noticed the drone outside the window. Why is there a drone you might ask?

Well, this is after the accidental broadcast incident and Vox is determined to find out who this mysterious fake rival is. Lucifer is behind a pillar, putting up décor, so he’s not in frame. Alastor is because he’s a drama queen who refuses to help. Lucifer finally gets him to talk by mentioning how he’ll do anything in his power to fix whatever dream!him did. Alastor immediately lets it out and snaps about what happened.

Vox scrambles to turn the audio on the drone, cursing Velvette for convincing him that he was being dumb having them at full power and completely on at all times. By the time he gets it working, and the drone close enough to hear, Alastor is finishing his rant. “And that is the kind of slight I cannot forgive!” Vox is thrilled. If this is the supposed worthy rival, they’re screwed up really badly! Worse than even Vox had when they had their falling out.

He can’t hear the other person, and seriously? Again? Do they have some kind of muffle voice magic?

��Well yes, I know it’s a misunderstanding! But it’s still unforgivable! …. Yes, he is. I know! I am well aware that I am not being reasonable! Do you think I’m happy about it?…… No, but……. I suppose you're right. What? No comment about how you're right?…. That’s sweet of you. You are disgustingly sweet, you know that?…… Hmmm yes, you did promise that, didn’t you? A risky thing, to promise to do anything to fix this….. What if I asked you to swear to me, with a binding promise, not to interact with him?…. It is not unreasonable!…… Well fine, I suppose never interacting is extreme. How about never taking his side?…… When would that even happen?….. Oh! I do like that wording! Yes, a binding promise for that will do.”

Vox is outraged. How dare Alastor do this? Agree to forgive something he swore he never would, letting the perpetrator have a say in the terms of forgiveness. To be so open and willing to explain why he was upset with them.

Things he had never given Vox the chance to do. He’s furious, and shorts out the power, as well as the drone. This draws RadioApple’s attention, and they go to tell the others. Alastor, feeling much better though still mad at Vox, volunteers to visit the Vees to see what they’re up to. Velvette calls Vox when the Radio Demon gets there, unaware that she should handle the situation. Vox comes up and just starts screaming at the other.

When it becomes clear that the other Overlord has no clue who the other person in the conversion was nor why they were fighting Alastor laughs, pleased, and leaves. Vox is still having his meltdown. Velvette regrets her decision to not just deal with Alastor herself.

#radioapple #duckiedeer #💚 aka mine #long post #hazbin vox

[pansyfemme]

my feelings toward ‘nonsexual nudity’ versus ‘sexual nudity’ in art and which should be allowed on social media feels not all that deep. I am a queer, fat, disabled trans person. As long as i have been making work involving (and in some cases not involving) nudity, no matter how aesthetic and clean and nonsexual it is, my work has been seen as fetish art and/or erotic art. When i say this, people tend to jump to the idea that perhaps people are reblogging my work to their nsfw blogs, but that’s not an issue to me. For the most part, that community has been extremly respectful. I’ve had much more of an issue with other users assuming that i am a trans fetishist, a fat fetishist, etc, because i am unapologetically fat and trans and draw people who are as well. While i’m well aware that there are people who fetishize and sexualize my existance in ways i am uncomfortable with, i’ve become.. kind of apathetic when i hear someone is one of those things. because for the most part, on this site, that just means someone is fat or trans and not completly chaste or ashamed of their body, especially in the case of trans women. Again, i know fetishism, i’ve experienced it, ive met chasers. But i need to be clear that these types of accusations made wildly and a misunderstanding that all strong attraction TO, not regardless of, bodies that are ‘atyipical’ in society is somehow wrong and reductive makes me kind of frustrated when people attempt to seperate sexual and nonsexual nudity. Because there is no world in which my nude body is seen as nonsexual. When i draw people nude, those are people who share those experiences. Nonsexual versus sexual nudity both implies a wrongness to sexuality in art and implies that the line between them will not be drawn randomly by biased people. Queerness, fatness, and disablity are nuanced topics, yes, but people who hold those identities have bodies, and those bodies are not viewed with nuance. I cannot tell you that i feel there is a strong difference when some bodies in art are not given the luxury of not being viewed as perverted by nature.

[stomach-bugg09]

heya, lovely! can you do a big sis y/n sully and fali after the battle at the three brothers when all the kids (the sullys + tsireya, ao'nung) are huddled together during a bad storm and the parents cannot return from the hunt till it passes so tuk starts crying since they've been gone for half a week. y/n and fali being the eldest comfort their siblings/pseudo siblings. maybe even show a bit of tsireya and ao'nung's dynamic with fali?

summary: a rumor of treasure sends the sully kids + co. out into a storm they weren’t quite aware of.

a/n: okay so , i kind of took some creative liberties with this. hopefully you don’t mind !! but , that being said , the first half is like really well written and i’m super proud and then the second half . . . let’s just say i wasn’t prepared to write so much. i think it’s still good , of course , but i’m also desperate to get requests and works out. it’s still a very fun read , though , so i hope you enjoy. feedbacks + reblogs are always appreciated !!

tags: @rafeslovergirl @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass @23victoria @nyotamalfoy @gcldtom

warnings: sibling vibes, getting lost, a dangerous storm, a very bad ending (whoopsies), me slowly giving up writing well nearing the end

words: 3.6k

stuck

[y/n] had to admit, this was probably the stupidest idea she’d ever taken part in. unfortunately, the repercussions for such an act made the idiocy of it all even more obvious.

it’d been a perfectly fine day. wonderful, actually! [y/n] was busy with fali, the two of them bonding over some unbearable chores ( a punishment after they’d been caught past curfew ) as the beautiful weather kept them warm, even if the sun was leaving her skin sizzling.

to make it even better, when fali noticed the way she tensed under the beaming sun, he immediately grabbed ronal’s lotion and lathered some on her back. at that, [y/n] fought the urge to absolutely melt beneath his touch.

but, of course, as it always went, it had to be their younger siblings that ruined everything.

after the new layer of sun protectant had been applied, the two continued to unload the traps, hissing everytime a crab grabbed ahold of their sensitive fingers.

“bitch,” fali cursed loudly, flinging the crustacean back into the water to keep its pinchers from drawing any blood.

as [y/n] guffawed at the action, she immediately tensed feeling the change in atmosphere. from behind her, the ominous shadow of her brother sent her repeating the words, “uh oh,” in her head.

[y/n] turned slowly, eyes wide as she looked up from where she crouched on the dock. “can i help you?”

of course, the answer was always “yes.”

and so, that’s how [y/n] and fali found themselves aboard ilus that shot through the water. the sunlight burst through the surface, each wave distorting the reflection in the slightest. the magic of the sea always sent [y/n] into a phase of absolute awe.

apparently, tsireya and lo’ak had found some weird treasure-like thing out in the distance, just past the three brothers, and upon telling the rest of their siblings ( plus rotxo, although he was an honorary sibling at that point ), they all wanted to see. all they needed was a responsible young adult to chaperone them!

at first, [y/n] wanted to say no. they were already in enough trouble from the night before, and she definitely did not need neytiri and jake any farther up her ass. but, of course, fali had a way with words ( more like giving her the cutest eyes ever that instantly made her fold ) and off they went.

fali was a seeker of adventure. that in itself was more than clear. so, it was natural for him to bite when he heard of the journey that awaited him and the kids. plus, treasure? that sounded pretty sick, even if it ended up being something completely worthless.

despite the fact that he’d already been reprimanded just hours before, fali decided to take into account that his parents could only kill him once. a little more rules broken didn’t mean anything! that’d just be a problem for his future self.

fali felt a smile form on his face at the feeling of [y/n]’s arms wrapping around his waist from where she sat behind him. his own hand traveled back, resting softly against her thigh as they sped through the waters atop their shared ilu.

lo’ak and tsireya led the way through the reef, an event that caused [y/n] major second-hand embarrassment for everytime that lo’ak tried to impress the girl who rode beside him.

behind [y/n] and fali, ao’nung and rotxo caused quite the ruckus. it was often that fali found himself turning around to gesture for them to stop after they would push each other into some boulders that sat on the sea floor.

following dumb and dumber, kiri and tuk sailed gracefully. they watched the scenary pass by in peace, their gazes always stuck staring in awe thanks to the nature that paved the way.

neteyam, of course, brought up the caboose. he kept his eyes open for anyone straggling, often having his ilu bump into ao’nung or rotxo to keep them moving. they were lucky they even got along nowadays, otherwise the interaction would not be treated so dully.

but, alas, there was no more bad blood between any of them. not after a month ago, not after fali risked his life for neteyam. not after the sets of siblings joined forces for the first time to save payakan, a beautiful beast that kept the rest of the sully family from dying mid-battle.

it was a miracle that they all still lived after that traumatic night. even though it still haunted all of them day and night through physical scars and mental memories. it would never be forgotten, and maybe it was a blessing. or, it was a curse.

either way, they were alive and, for the most part, happy. that part was clear based on the way each of them smiled as they ventured through the reef, each of their eyes flickering towards the new scenery they had never seen before.

it was only when tsireya and lo’ak slowed down in front of them that they all regained full attention, suddenly remembering why they were even out there in the first place.

[y/n] tensed in the slightest, eyes narrowing as she scanned their surroundings. she took in every minute detail, a habit picked up by her upbringing as the eldest sibling. [y/n] knew that neteyam was doing just the same from the back.

“this way,” tsireya signed, an action that was then passed down along the line so that everyone was caught up.

[y/n]’s hands gripped fali’s biceps as the ilu made its way forward, the pace slow and steady. it was only when they entered the cave of complete black that she began to truly panic.

fali’s own worry was only triggered by the girl that clung to him, his thumb rolling softly overtop her skin to provide comfort. when they entered the dark cave, their bioluminescent freckles were the only sources of light beneath the dark surface.

[y/n] whipped her head around quickly, checking that everyone was there. after a quick head count, she felt a tad better, although she still used her hands to usher and corral them into a tightly packed herd.

“leave the ilus,” tsireya ordered quickly, eyes widening in concern when she noticed how tightly packed the cave was. “it is deeper within, and we can only fit one by one.”

“sounds joyous,” [y/n] responded just before she allowed fali to help her off.

once everyone was free from the confines of their ilus, they began to progress within the shelter. the farther they went, the tighter it seemed to get, an unfortunate reality due to the shoving that went on between the boys. [y/n] even had to give fali a look when he began to push around ao’nung and rotxo. he immediately stopped, of course, because he knew better to listen to her than get in trouble.

“just ahead,” tsireya offered quickly, eyes flaring at the way each other their movements got slower due to the lack of oxygen. “there’s an air pocket.”

“and treasure,” lo’ak added very quickly, an action that had tsireya slapping him on the back of his head.

he bristled, grumpily rubbing the location in which she hit him. his grumbling did not stop, not until they finally each swam through the small tunnel and resurfaced in the even smaller cave that, thankfully, had oxygen.

“oh, thank eywa,” [y/n] gasped once she found her way up, flopping down against the gravel. “i thought you guys were trying to kill us for a moment there.”

“ha ha,” lo’ak said with a roll of his eyes. “you are just so funny, [y/n].”

at that, the older sister was quickly on her feet and preparing to tackle him to the ground when neteyam gave them each an unimpressed stare.

deciding to stay cool and mature, [y/n] chose to instead stick her tongue out. of course, as a result, lo’ak hissed back.

“shut up,” ao’nung groaned from where he leaned against the walls of the cave. kiri nodded in agreement, eyes widened to only emphasize her point.

after a few moments of silence, tuk cleared her throat. “so, are we gonna just wait here or…?”

“right,” lo’ak trailed, not missing the chance to roll his eyes. “if i hadn’t been distracted—” he stared at [y/n]— “i would’ve showed you that—”

tsireya groaned, shoving him softly. “it’s down this way.” her nimble hand gestured down what seemed to be a gruesomely long and dark tunnel. at the sight, the entire group went silent.

rotxo was the first one to break the silence. “yeah, i’m good.”

“are you trying to kill us?”

“i have claustrophobia.”

lo’ak groaned, dropping his head back in annoyance. “come on, guys. there’s literal treasure back there.” [y/n] watched warily as he stepped toward the tunnel, his tanhì reflecting colorful light against the black walls.

“and what if there isn’t?” fali prompted, eyebrow muscles raised with his arms crossed across his chest.

tsireya blinked, jaw dropping as she tried to answer. instead, lo’ak stepped forward and assumed the task for her ( an action that had all the girls in the room unimpressed ).

“we saw it.” he sounded very sure of himself, but that confidence soon crumpled to nothing once the rest of the group just stared, then blinked, and then burst into laughter. “wha—guys!” he protested with a groan.

“sorry, bro,” neteyam attempted, dropping a hand on his shoulder to which lo’ak quickly shoved off as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “but, we will never trust your judgement of sight alone.”

“yeah!” tuk cried. “remember when you said that you saw that thanator creeping into camp.”

“oh, yes,” kiri agreed with a devious grin. “and after causing quite the scene, it was just tsukin dressed in his hunting gear.”

[y/n] bit her lip, trying to keep a smile off of her face. normally, she would be all for the teasing, but based on the expression that lo’ak wore, she was all too familiar with the jokes hitting a certain point. so, she kept her cool.

stepping forward, one hand raised, she offered in a cool tone, “okay, so, let us ponder.” silence settled in the cave, eight pairs of eyes resting on her frame. “if there is treasure, what would we do with it?”

tsireya stepped forward, a hand pressing to lo’ak’s chest before he could ruin their campaign once again. “well, from what lo’ak and i saw just the other day, it isn’t simply… treasure.” [y/n] narrowed her eyes, not quite understanding what she was getting at. “i mean to say, it is like a, uh, how did you describe it?” she turned to lo’ak.

“it is a statue, i suppose,” lo’ak answered with a shrug.

“yes, statue.” tsireya bit her bottom lip, the corners of her mouth up turning into a small grin. “so it is not as if it has any value since we are fully unable to haul it out of here, but it is beautiful and worth the look.” she blinked before smirking. “if you are brave enough, that is.”

oh, how tsireya knew exactly how to tempt that crowd. so, it was absolutely no surprise at all that [y/n] then found herself clinging onto fali’s shoulders as they swam through the dark, twisting, thin tunnel.

the textured ledges that jutted out caused many sputters and groans of pain down the line and back. at one point, [y/n] found her hair tangled on an edge and she was yoinked backwards, a burst of bubbles leaving her mouth as she let out a sound of pain and annoyance mixed into one.

luckily, the tunnel was no nearly as long as they thought, and soon enough, they were pouring into yet another cave. this time, however, each of them froze in their tracks as they stared in adoration at the gorgeous artwork that sat in front of them.

bioluminescent plants climbed up and down the walls, spilling onto the ground and growing up the figure that sat in the middle of the room. the statue, worn down by time, was a little dull on the edges, and it was a beautiful white marble. streaks of gray and black wrapped around its curves, adding a mark of nature on the na’vi made form.

thanks to the familiar shape of long pointed ears and a tail that wrapped around its waist, the figure was very clearly based on one of their ancestors.

[y/n] furrowed her eyebrows, swimming around it to catch every angle. her supple fingers gently trailed overtop what used to be a face, the only thing left after years of underwater living being small dimples of where the eyes and mouth used to reside. she softly petted the nose of the figure, a smile drawing on her face.

and that’s when it finally settled within her bones that something was wrong.

chills pricked on [y/n]’s arms as she looked around the dark cave, eyes flickering over the kids who were each grouped up and conversing with each other. kiri was busy admiring the work with tuk at her tail, lo’ak and tsireya were most likely flirting, and ao’nung, rotxo, and neteyam were arguing about something. panic settled in [y/n]’s gut when she noticed the words “storm” and “rising water” being exchanged between the trio of boys.

she swam up quickly, fali at her heels, and she stopped at the top of the cave. [y/n] pressed her hands desperately against the rocks, feeling for anywhere the water might escape, feeling for anywhere she could try and take a peek at the outside world. she cursed at herself when she found no luck.

by then, eyes were cast upon the older girl, worry settling on each and every one of their expressions. a hand on her shoulder caused her to whip around, sending fali floating back in alarm.

“what is wrong?” he questioned carefully, eyes filled with concern.

“i do not know,” [y/n] admitted truthfully. “but something feels… off.”

that’s when ao’nung decided to finally step up. “the water is warmer,” he offered. “it feels as if the tide is moving north, and that usually means—”

“a storm,” tsireya finished for him, worry evident on her face.

[y/n] turned to fali with a tight swallow. his face was frozen, clearly trying to figure out a plan. he was always good at on the spot thinking, but something about his closest friends and family members being the ones in danger sent him spiraling in the wrong direction.

“we must leave now,” ao’nung took charge quickly, spinning around and ushering tuk and kiri towards the place in which they entered from.

[y/n] felt as if time seemed to travel far too fast. before she knew it, she and fali were bringing up the back of the line to make sure everyone swam out quickly, not leaving any stragglers behind. tsireya and rotxo led the way, tuk padded by kiri and neteyam for safety.

the reality of the situation truly sat in when the air bubble in which they’d previously conversed in turned out to be half way full. they all silently decided that stopping wasn’t worth it, and instead gulped one last big breath of oxygen before exiting the cave once again.

by the time they resurfaced outside of all of the caves, finally back in the open sea, [y/n] felt her stomach rise to her throat at the sight of the storm. wind blew far too aggressively, and the tides were coming in strong. screams left their throats as they narrowly avoided a wave that almost crashed directly on their heads.

quick thinking resulted in their ilus left behind — although, there was also a possibility that the creatures already left them at the feeling of the storm coming in — and the group of kids climbing onto the boulders.

the cave they had previously swam in also had another layer on top, this time with oxygen and safe shelter provided. at least, enough to keep them from ( hopefully ) dying in the storm.

they now huddled, backs pressed against the rock walls as wind burst outside, an occasional very large wave absolutely drenching the boulder and sending screams echoing across the shelter.

[y/n] and fali sat closest to the entrance, but in their arms they held practically every single kid. faces pressed into their chests, the two young adults sharing looks of concern, worry, and pure prayers to eywa.

[y/n] clenched her eyes shut at the feeling of tuk trembling beneath her hands, sprinkles of sea spray causing her to feel sticky and wet. when fali pressed his head against her’s, she whimpered softly. she would remain strong for as long as the children needed it, but deep down, she was terrified.

they sat, huddled together, throughout the entire storm. from beginning to end. beneath every harsh wave, between every strike of lightning. instead of letting their fear best them, they only decided to just hold each tighter and tighter.

by the time the storm finally settled down, they were each soaked with cold water, the wind whistling through holes in the cave. each kid was shaking, although some held it together better than others.

[y/n]’s heart ached as she held tuk to her chest, quiet sobs wracking her small body. [y/n] rubbed her back with a soft touch, pressing an occasional kiss to the top of the young girl’s head. “it is okay, tuk tuk,” she whispered, eyes flickering up to watch fali and the rest of the boys wander back and forth across the cave, voices hushed and serious as they discussed how to approach their problem.

“i want mom and dad,” tuk cried into her shoulder, face leaned into the crook of her older sister’s neck.

[y/n] frowned. “i know, darling, and we will see them as soon as we can. but, we need to figure out how to get home first.” she pulled tuk away from her body for a moment, forcing her to lock eyes. “i promise you, mom and dad are okay, and they will be looking for us as soon as it is safe.”

meanwhile, tsireya and kiri were busy under the water, looking for any source of help. food, a safer shelter, maybe their ilus… but, no such luck.

as the girls busied themselves with a search, the boys wandered from one side of the cave to other, jumping into the water as they tried to track down exactly where they were. curses were exchanged as lo’ak and neteyam’s necklace intercoms didn’t seem to work thanks to the wreckage left by the storm.

the first sign of hope came from kiri and tsireya when the two girls resurfaced, smiles highlighting their features as they sputtered for breath after a long swim. “guys!”

at that, everyone gathered around, even [y/n] and tuk after the older girl quickly cradled her baby sister and brought her over to the group. “what is it?”

“i think we found a better place to sit and wait.”

luckily for them, the beach they found was unoccupied and quite helpful. the storm sure left a mark, but that also meant firewood that was much more easily accessible. 

it didn’t take long for the group to set up an actual camp. sticks and leaves, gathered by the younger girls, helped create small tent-like structures. [y/n], rotxo, and lo’ak dealt with fishing and food, and neteyam, ao’nung, and fali were busy dragging large pieces of driftwood to support their shelters as well as make an actual bonfire.

“ao’nung, would you please be cooperative for once?” fali grunted, the trio dropping the piece of wood for the eighth time in just a few feet.

ao’nung shot him a look. “i’m trying my hardest, but you keep stepping on my toes.”

“i am not!” the older boy argued, eyes narrowed. neteyam rolled his eyes at the sibling-like banter.

“lo’ak, do you lack braincells?” another argument took place just a few paces away.

“[y/n], do not act as if you are so much better than me!” the younger brother threw a piece of mulch at her, an action that she did not respond kindly to.

it was only when rotxo shouted in delight at the feeling of a fish tugging at his line that they suddenly forgot all of their previous issues.

across the beach, tuk was squat carefully as she organized sticks and leaves into two different piles, even going as far as to stack the leaves from largest to smallest. “woah!” she cried at one point, staring at a very large leaf with a gaped jaw. “it’s as tall as me.”

tsireya laughed, picking the greenery up and holding it next to the girl. “i think you have a few inches on it.”

hours passed by, but progress was made. so much progress that they each had their own tent by the end of the night.

of course, they still chose to stay up quite late, gathered around the warm fire as they exchanged different stories. a lot of personal sibling attacks were made, of course, especially towards lo’ak who seemed to be a permanent indigo shade after his older siblings told tsireya of every single one of his embarrassing childhood tales.

the later it got, the more they yawned, and soon it was spreading like a disease. [y/n] smiled at the sleeping figure of tuk.

but, of course, the light in the distance kept any more of them from drifting off.

"looks like it's time to go home."

“looks like it’s time to go home.”

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #sully family x reader #loak sully #sully family x y/n #tuk sully #tuktirey #sully family #kiri sully #metkayina #ao'nung #tsireya #rotxo #atwow #sully!reader #fali x reader

[yoimix]

「 from eden 」

if the rtawahist theory of parallel universes is true, you are certain that you would hate ALHAITHAM in every single one of them. 

it is an ambitious theory, however. alhaitham calls it fiction.

“that’s not what the algorithm does,” he grumbles, lowering his head to rest his forehead against his palm. he looks nearly as distressed as a pyro fungus on water.

“i did not draw the wrong chart.”

“you filled in incorrect values.”

“no way.”

“i can’t believe i’m here with you at 3am.” he heaves his deepest sigh yet, mingling into the cold air outside puspa cafe. you prefer the warm, coffee-scented interior, but to get your words across, you need them to ring inside his thick skull.

“well, what else were you gonna do? sleep?” you roll your eyes.

“yes.”

you pull a face at his expressionless response. 

“now, let’s go over the algorithm again,” he presses, eyes piercing enough to draw you closer, and bowlike lips sporting his regular frown. there is no need for him to be here. he just happened upon you at the cafe five hours ago, just to point out the mistake in your assignment. of course, that didn’t end well. you’d rather deep fry and eat a consecrated shell than let a man tell you how to solve your problems. so, he didn’t need to be here. he just never left.

the answer to that is simple: in every single universe, he will choose you over anyone else.

not that you’re aware. alhaitham makes sure you never will be. he’s unfamiliar with languages of the heart; and no amount of your biting remarks and teasing voice, your pensive smile and zaytun perfume, will get him to pronounce the syllables right.

he looks over at you, your full lips moving at rapid speed as you reiterate the contents of your lecture. the side of your neck is exposed, and the distance isn’t so wide that he can lean in comfortably. no, if he did, his shoulder would touch yours, and his hot breath would be against your skin. then maybe he’d get to hear your words die in your throat. these few inches are haphazard, bordering the lines between friends and a face you cannot stand. 

what a wonderful caricature of intimacy, he thinks.

“even if this language has the structure you claim, it’s nearly impossible to know. this poem could be dating to thousands of years ago!” you exclaim, growing frustrated, “are you sure about this? i’m starting to think it can’t be deciphered.”

you’re done with translating the first part. it is as abstruse as can be, and you’ve been scratching your head over it for the past three days. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to solve it like a riddle, or agonize through the steps of the translation algorithm to complete. though, the embodiment of agony is already seated beside you.

what is the difference between me and the sky? 

hell, if you know. you’re not even sure what’s happening anymore. the letters float across your vision, little taunts in their movement. teetering on the edge of dropping out, you groan again.

“i think you should get some rest,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

your shoulders sag, and alhaitham wonders if he said something wrong. 

“don’t patronize me.”

“i am not.”

“i never know what you mean, and what you don’t,” you mutter, picking up your pen again to scribble notes on the corners of the paper. it contains alhaitham’s neat explanations, arrows indicating grammar and some numbers signifying the presumed utilization years of this lost language. yours looks like a little kid’s next to his.

but i say what i mean, he thinks. is there a point to saying it out loud? his chest constricts at the idea of you curling your lips, dismissing his chest laid bare for your predefined ideas. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. but something in your voice betrays this thought of his. 

his aventurine eyes settle over you. but you bear no distaste, only mild annoyance from this wall you’ve hit. he must say, you’re a commendable scholar. the relentless pursuit of knowledge has far more meaning than simply possessing it, and he’s seen your weary form in the house of daena at too many midnights. you are self-sufficient and he’s certain you’ll arrive at the answer anyway.

“i’ll be leaving then,” he says, standing up. “i hope your darshan doesn’t find you groveling by a stack of papers in the morning. it’s rather unbecoming of their paragon.”

a shout of exasperation leaves you, your shoulders tense.

“it’s because of you the haravatat are known as snobs!” you shoot, crossing your arms.

“it is your choice to believe in rumors,” he responds, idly gazing at your form. “it reflects you more than me.”

“do you always have to be so robotic?”

“i’m more well off than most, so i doubt changing my mannerisms will be of benefit to me.”

you exhale, on the verge of exasperation. “do you ever hear yourself? i can’t imagine the agony your poor roommate goes through.”

“kaveh has nothing to do with this.” he grits his teeth. 

“no one has anything to do with you, alhaitham.” you stand up, glaring at him. “to you, people are no different from cats, or dogs, or- or flies—you don’t seem to understand that our languages were made to bring us closer.”

“they were invented for communication. a group that understands each other survives longer.” 

that is true. but you’re not wrong either, even if you’ve chosen more romantic phrasing. 

“i think—”

“archons,” you fume. “what about poetry? and literature, and dedication pages at the start of novels? we do it for each other.”

“your own perception adds substance to sentimental texts. i cannot agree with the poets. they led far different lives than i do.”

you scoff. “your little bubble of comfort is all you care about, don’t you? pray tell why you bothered with this anyway. was it to stroke your own ego? i... i genuinely believed you wanted to help.”

that one stung a little.

“you seem to have an entire image of me already. do i have to be present here?”

you heat up in the face, nearing a boiling point. you’ll have to apologize to enteka for causing a commotion; but your mind is heavy and you cannot quite think clearly. 

“i understand that you don’t bother with what people think of you. but you could at least be honest with me- without- without your damn glaring, or sarcasm or—”

“i don’t look at you with the intention to glare.” he raises his voice for once. “i cannot let you see what i’m experiencing because i don’t know what it is yet—and it is imperative you don’t poke your nose into this.”

his chest heaves as he steadies his breathing. there is nothing you can say, not when you’re taken aback by his quiet outburst.

“and i’m not frowning like you think i am. i am simply not wearing an expression at all. my collection is unordered but i mark my books alphabetically when i lend them to you. i say i bring an extra cup of coffee to have a second fill even though i know you will ask to have it. i despise the conditioning in people that they must pair up in meaningful ways for a good life. and despite that...”

he catches his breath, not realizing he was holding it in.

your eyes have softened by now, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“...if i were to end my speculations and call this love, i would be satisfied.”

you part your lips and close them again. to expect an answer, perhaps, is a grave overestimation on his part. some things are better left unsaid. it’s how languages die.

alhaitham sighs. “right. it’s too strong a word. i mean to say i feel comfortable around you. and content. though i never thought there was anything amiss in my life. as for affection, i am not familiar with this kind. and—”

you cup his face, still at a loss for words. “you talk so much. i never realized.”

“last time, you said i don’t talk enough.”

“i just like the sound of your voice.”

he purses his lips, and swallows his words. once more, you have decided to speak in a language he has no expertise in. the drumming in his heart says he cannot wait to read poetry in it.

“no more sighing, haitham. and no more glaring. no sarcasm. and no irony.”

he furrows his brows, but he makes no attempt to release himself from your touch.

“say it again. your conclusion.”

his lips part, a sharp breath running through his lungs.

“i believe this is the notion of love. every gesture points to it.”

“is your head clouded?”

“no. it’s never been clearer.”

and he lets you lean in closer, closer till your lips are brushing against his.

“so?” you whisper.

it takes him a moment. he closes the distance, and though he has rarely felt devotion, he moves his mouth against yours in a fervent prayer. carefully, he rests his hand against the small of your back, more to steady himself than you.

this makes sense to him. you’re so familiar. like dragging his fingers on his mirror from ages ago, he finds you a perfect image of what could’ve been. you and him are pages of the same incoherent book, dancing between the same two sentences.

“for clarity’s sake,” he whispers, pulling away. “i say what i mean. i’ve lived long enough to know misunderstandings are beyond my control, and truth is something to be actively pursued to gain. but i cannot stand the screen between my words and your ears.”

his gaze is focused, unwavering. it’s the way he’s always looked at you.

“i know,” you respond, after a moment. “i know what you mean. and if it is your words that you want me to actively pursue—”

he clears his throat. “that- that is not what i said.”

“—then i will do so.”

you smile, and he can feel his lips twitch.

“well, i’m no genius...”

“neither am i,” he interjects softly. “but i’m persistent. i will keep trying, over and over. and if i’m not wrong, you’re the same.”

“you’re not wrong.”

have you always looked at him this way? he thought he’s seen all of your faces before. a new language blossoms in his mind. for once, literary devices are more than just devices.

“the poets are wrong,” you state, laughing bashfully, “it’s not so earth-shattering as i thought. maybe... maybe you were right on that part.”

a small smile forms on his face, and your breath hitches in your throat. “that’s ironic. i thought i finally understood them.”

“really? then do you know the answer to this ancient poem from the sands of hadravameth?” your eyes are curious as ever. “what is the difference between me and the sky?”

he recalls the lines from a long-buried poem, and they click in his head. the sands cannot swallow words as well as it swallows life.

“the difference, my love, is that when you laugh, i forget about the sky.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff #genshin x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham scenarios #yoimix.drabble #the switch in pov jesus christ lord knows i can never commit #anyway i want to treat his character with dignity and compassion despite me clowning him every day #i feel like i am contradicting myself haha #kaveh passing them by: BARF #also last part is from the the poem my love asks me by nizar qabbani

[kalegreeneyes]

February 3 - King - 1218 words - @jegulus-microfic

“It isn’t fair,” Regulus hisses under his breath as he watches his brother work the room from a secluded corner. He just needed a break from all the pomp and circumstance following Sirius’s coronation. “He doesn’t even want to be king!”

“And you do?” a voice murmurs far too close to Regulus’s ear for comfort. It makes the downy hairs on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps prickle down his skin. 

Regulus whips his head around, face heating up as he goes. He had made sure he was alone over here. Apparently not. His shoulders drop when he sees who it is–James Potter has never been, and will never be, a threat to him. 

“Not that it is any of your business,” Regulus starts, trying to take on an air of nonchalance, “but yes. I do. I believe myself to be infinitely more suited to rule a kingdom than him.” 

James Potter, the heir apparent to the crown of his own kingdom, an ever present thorn in Regulus’s side, looks at him in a way he has never known James Potter to look. It is nervous, bordering on desperate. Regulus does not like it, and he draws back to observe. The fragile glass full of some expensive alcohol that Regulus is holding but will not drink sloshes as he leans to take in James’ body language.

“What is it, Potter?” Regulus asks, finding himself oddly nervous. He rather enjoys the predictability of James Potter. He finds himself suddenly having to worry for the first time whether James Potter is a threat to him; if perhaps he has revealed too much in his loose disdain for his brother’s rise to power.

“You can rule my kingdom,” James says, all in a hurry as if he’s afraid he won’t get the words out if they don’t come all at once.

Regulus arches a high, delicate brow, then can’t help himself but to laugh. It’s a bright, airy thing, and James Potter licks his lips. “Have you lost your mind?” Regulus asks. “It isn’t becoming of you to make such a cheap attempt at humour.”

James steps forwards to once again invade Regulus’s space. Regulus’s eyes dart around the room to make sure that no one is observing them. He’d loathe to cause a scandal over such nonsense. James follows his movement to catch his eyes again, all but forcing him to pay attention with the intensity in his gaze.

“I’m not attempting to make you laugh, Your Highness, as beautiful a sound as it is. I believe you to be more than fit to rule–my kingdom would be all the better to have you at the helm.” James insists, warm fingers brushing against Regulus’s as he takes the glass from him and sets it on the nearby table.

“And what would you do, then?” Regulus asks incredulously, still unable to believe this is anything but a farce.

“Well, if you’d allow me, I would stand proudly at your side for the rest of my days. I would be there to support you in any way you might require. It is my kingdom, after all; I can do what I want with it. I would like to give it to you.” James’ face betrays no amusement, no doubt. Uncertainty, yes, but that seems to be hinging on Regulus’s reaction.

Regulus’s mouth drops open, which is not very proper, but he cannot help it. He can’t believe James is actually serious about this. “And what a fortuitous match that would be for you, yes? I'm sure your parents would be thrilled if you returned home with the spare heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to become your prince consort,” he hisses in a protective sort of disbelief. “Surely you aren’t suggesting-”

“Regulus,” James cuts him off, the pleading look in his eyes only growing more fervent. “I implore you to listen to me because I speak only the truth. I have loved you for as long as I have known you. My parents would be glad for the match not for what you can offer, but rather because of the joy and contentment it would bring me. I have been wholly and truly yours for years, even if you have not been aware of it. Though, I must admit, I didn’t think I had been subtle about my desire,” he says, with such conviction that Regulus has no choice but to believe him.

Regulus’s mouth drops open and snaps shut over and over for a moment while he tries to figure out a way to respond. He hasn’t the slightest idea where to even start. Eventually, he settles on, “I always assumed you were teasing me.”

James glances furtively around them before daring to take Regulus’s hand, obscured by the table in front of them. It is a solid feeling, one that grounds Regulus firmly into the moment. “No, never. Never about this. I couldn’t. Regulus, please, I cannot keep up the pretense that I am a truly proper man any longer. I understand that this is not the proper way to court someone, let alone to propose, but I cannot stand here and watch you wallow in your envy while knowing that I’ve been planning to offer you everything for as long as I can remember. Will you have me? Say you’ll have me.”

Regulus’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. His own hand trembles within James’ grasp. “I will not marry you simply to rule your kingdom, if that is what you’re implying. I do not take offers of courtship based on such cold, material things, and I could not live with myself if I were to take advantage of your affections for my own personal gain.”

James’ expression falters. There is a note of pain; his eyes seem to grow glassier than they had been before. “I was rather hoping that you would return my affections. It is mere coincidence that I found you here lamenting your brother’s crowning.”

Regulus swallows, his stuffy formal attire doing nothing to assuage the heat licking at his neck. “I will not rule your kingdom for you because you pity me for having to watch mine go to a man who loathes it,” he says, and then it is his turn to hold onto James’ gaze; his hand. “However, I will rule by your side, together, if to be with me is what you truly wish. As you said earlier, I have been wholly and truly yours for years, even if you have not been aware of it.” 

The pain in James’ expression fades, replaced by disbelief of his own, followed by a blinding kind of joy that seems to exist only within James Potter. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Regulus laughs, squeezing James’ hand to ground him in the moment too. 

“I do believe it is time to bestow you with a new title, Your Highness,” James grins.

“And what might that be?” Regulus asks, doing his level best to fight a grin of his own.

“King of my heart,” James says, and it is so incredibly sappy and unfunny that Regulus has no choice but to laugh and laugh.

He knows now that he will be laughing like this for the rest of his life.

#regulus black #james potter #royal au #jegulus #jegulus microfic #though im not that good at keeping my microfics micro it seems

[blackbat09]

i'm normal about @shepscapades' dbhc au. and uh. wrote a thing that's very much not canon but equally as much a love letter to everything shep's done. it's xbralis because of course it is.

“Shiswammy, I don’t think - Hm. Is this really necessary?”

[Voice Identified: Hermit Keralis1]

“I mean - maybe not. But, if I’m honest, it’d make me feel a bit better if you did use it?”

[Voice Identified: Administrator xisumavoid]

“It’s just - what does it even do, Shishwam? All this - this redstone and wires and bluey goopy stuff. You keep giving everybody robots this season - like, what am I even gonna use it for?”

“Well, we can just - here. It’s online. Can you hear us, XB?”

[Question: Audio Processor Functionality.]

“Yes.”

“Wonderful! Will you please give Keralis your initialization text?”

“Hi! I’m an XB2000 android. I can carry out basic tasks such as resource gathering and crafting, but my functional specialties are combat and exploration. I’m designed for high-stress environments, like deep oceans and naturally generated structures, and am enchanted with Aqua Affinity and Depth Strider, though I may be upgraded at your discretion.”

“At my discretion? Really, now.”

XB figures now’s as good a time as any to look at the Hermit he’s being given to. He’s been programmed with a knowledge of all this season’s Hermits, as well as the other androids Xisuma has brought to this world, so there aren’t really any surprises in store - but it is the first time he’s actually laid optical units on the man, in the flesh, and he quickly updates the player data from the previous season with the new input he receives as he looks Keralis over.

The Hermit’s wide eyes meet XB’s gaze, and his mouth twists in a smile, leaning his body a few degrees in XB’s direction.

The motion is not a threat - XB’s Hermit cannot register as hostile - so it goes mostly ignored.

“And what are you looking at, prrrincess?”

XB stares at his Hermit for a moment, watching the man’s smile falter and his eyebrows draw together, before Xisuma speaks.

“Oh! He means you, XB - Keralis likes his nicknames, he does.”

And while XB is aware of this already, has a certifiable database of aliases Keralis has given other Hermits, being given a new designation already is -

Well. It makes sense, actually. Keralis has just acquired a nameless android, and model numbers are unwieldy at best for casual address.

[Question: Visual Stimuli.]

“I’m looking at you, Keralis. Your appearance has changed since your documentation was last updated in season seven. My personal files will now match your current physical appearance.”

The furrow in Keralis’ brow smooths, and his smile returns, leaning in closer before he murmurs, “Anytime you want a closer look, princess? All you gotta do is ask.”

“Keralis!” Xisuma’s tone is scolding, but he also seems to be laughing, and Keralis snickers as he pulls away from XB, winking at him as if they’ve shared some sort of secret. He doesn't think they have.

“I’m being good! I’m being good, Shishwam, I promise.”

—

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful, XB?”

His motions don’t pause or falter as the question registers, the light at his temple flickering as he cycles through his memories - it’s a short search, one XB doesn’t really need to perform, but it’s good to be thorough, for Keralis’ benefit.

“No.”

The man gasps, the sound of a second pick falling silent as Keralis stops in his mining. XB continues - the andesite Keralis requires won’t mine itself, and the vein XB is working away at is still projected to be decently large.

“No?” Keralis repeats, voice raising as he continues, “No? XB! How could this be?”

There’s - emotion, in his tone, that XB decides is best categorized as aghast. In talking to DocM and Xisuma during routine maintenance, he’s been assured that Keralis can be prone to dramatics - that his words and feelings are sometimes not as grand as he projects them to be. But XB doesn’t mind it, really - Keralis being demonstrative with his feelings, even if it pushes the line into exaggeration, makes them easier to react to in a way that pleases his Hermit.

“I mean, before you, I spent all my time with Xisuma and DocM. They must not have felt it was pertinent to tell me,” XB suggests, and Keralis huffs, his pick resuming its rhythm - XB’s answer is satisfactory, then.

“Well I think it’s necessary,” he declares, pauses between his words dragging on a bit longer to catch his breath between speech and exertion. It’s something XB has grown accustomed to; sometimes he’ll need to stop and compose himself even when he’s not working, simply growing too animated and tripping over rapidly-spilling syllables until he’s half-wheezing. “I can’t just - just send you off in the world, not knowing you have beautiful eyes! They’re like the sea, XB. You could drown a man in them.”

Along with his exaggeration, Keralis likes his figures of speech, his simile and metaphors. Technically, XB can sort of grasp what he’s saying - Xisuma has been rather accommodating when it comes to updating his verbal and linguistic processing, trying to make sure he understands what Keralis means beyond the base definitions of the words he says (in whichever language he decides to use that day - his Hermit was rather delighted to discover XB’s fluency in both Polish and Swedish) - but, sometimes, even with everything XB has access to, he still can’t quite parse the why of what Keralis says.

[Eyes: like the sea: blue? Wet? Could drown in them: deep? Dangerous? Negative?]

XB is quiet for a moment longer, watching the steady swing of his own pickax before he offers, “If my appearance is unsatisfactory, you can ask me to change it.”

“XB!” He sounds horrified, and this time the sound of his pick is replaced with the heavy stomp of his boots as he bullies his way into XB’s space, taking his face between work-roughened hands. XB’s arms lower gently to avoid hitting Keralis with his pick, obediently meeting his eyes as the Hermit usually wants, when he holds XB like this. “I would never!”

“But you can,” XB points out. Keralis’ face only folds more, stern frown seeming - almost out of place.

His Hermit usually smiles.

[Software instability.]

“But I won’t, XB. And that’s that. No buts.” He stares back at Keralis for a long moment, committing the serious face to his memory.

XB would rather not have many examples of the expression. Among his top priorities are his Hermit's health and safety, after all, and his happiness is a decent indicator of both.

“Yes, Keralis."

#xbralis #my fics #dbh hermitcraft au #i'm normal about this and certainly don't have a bunch of headcanons and shit. #nope. not me. #sorry i'm annoying about xb.

[classyinnie]

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬; 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

content: Keiji Akaashi x reader — how Akaashi would comfort a mentally drained, overthinking reader | hurt/comfort, established relationship | 1.0k words

warnings: mentions of burnout and stress

notes: Write comfort fics for when you need comfort >>>

[7:37 p.m.]

At the peak of hopelessness, you hunched over your work area. Opened in front of you were files of unfinished artworks. However, despite the flashes of color and potential references, you couldn’t think of something to create.

The submission for your client was tomorrow night. You've been working on this project for a week and still haven't produced a favorable outcome. You have several drafts, but none of them are adequate or even close to workable.

You wished to pause time for a moment to catch your breath. Close all browser windows and relax in the comforting presence of your husband – who is situated behind you on the bed, busy with work. He’s sporting an old sweater and has his working glasses on, making him look cozier than he already is. You desired - no, required - a break, but you cannot afford to waste time. 

So, grudgingly, you pull yourself together and scroll through the number of unpolished drafts. Hoping and praying that a sliver of creativity will enter your burnt-out mind. 

[9:50 p.m.]

Akaashi brings you a sandwich, sliced apples, and a cup of hot tea. You looked at the clock and were surprised to see that it had already been 2 hours. A sense of dread rose in your chest.

Akaashi kisses your brow while leaning in to inspect your work. "That looks incredible, hon." He says while lightly stroking your hair. You close your eyes and relish in the feeling, desperate to succumb to the grip of sleep. "Please don't overwork yourself, okay?"

You have to force yourself to nod. “Okay. You too.”

Akaashi hums before returning to his editorial proposals. Looking back at your work, you couldn't see what he meant by "incredible". All you could point out were flaws and squandered opportunities. Every line and color on the screen screams mediocre.

At this point, you were beyond worried about what your client would think. They trusted you, and in return, you are giving them a piece of rubbish.

You are running out of time.

You rub your eyes, willing the exhaustion to leave. In desperation, you try to arrange the elements on the screen, seeking to fix the compositions. 

The color scheme is revolting. There's almost nothing to look at.

Aware of the worst possible outcomes, the weariness of looking at the same things over and over again and not coming up with anything new seemed to weigh heavier than it did. Before you knew it, you were spiraling through the surging panic of endless possibilities of failure.

[10:00 p.m.]

“Akaashi.” You say his name like a plea. As if chanting it would push back the thoughts that were threatening to cave in.

“Yes, love?” He calls out. You remain frozen in the spot. Unable to squeeze out a reply. The bed shifts and Akaashi find himself kneeling beside you. Slowly, he angles your chair so he can see your face better. He holds your cheeks, surprised to feel their coldness, and asks, "What's wrong?" 

"I can't do anything right," You say. 

He scans your eyes. "That’s not true, you know that. What caused these thoughts, hm?"

You leaned forward to his touch, resting your forehead on his shoulders. Exhausting. It was all so exhausting. So silent yet so loud.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes it, attempting to bring blood and warmth back to your pale skin. “Can you feel this?” He presses his thumb against your palm, gently but firmly enough to draw your attention away from the overwhelming feeling in your chest.

You nod, drawing yourself inexorably closer to him. Akaashi carefully pulls you up and guides you to sit at the side of the bed.

“Fight it off love. It’s not true. I’m right here, I won’t leave.” He says repeatedly as he tucks your head under his chin. His one hand constantly presses down on your cold hands, while the other gently strokes your hair.

You feel the first stream of tears roll down your cheeks.

Akaashi hums a familiar worship tune near your ear. You allow the warm sensation of familiarity to embrace you. Allow his heartbeat to guide your breathing, and his presence to ground you in a state of calm.

"Lend me your sorrows, and I'll face each one of them with you," He says.

So you did. You voiced out each fear slipping through the surface.

…Your fear of settling for less because you are unable to produce something better. 

…Your fear of not being able to produce anything good, coherent, or worthy of the request.

…Your fear of not meeting the standard.

Akaashi listened throughout it all. Intently, so.

Speaking your concerns aloud was enough to alleviate some of your unease. It was able to make you realize that some of the doubts were only the result of your overthinking.

When the last of your worries were recited, Akaashi didn’t waste time pulling you from his chest to look you in the eye. He kisses a stray tear away. "Success is not measured by how productive you are or how much you put yourself in," He says softly. A gentle caress. “It is not measured by how much you can do until your body is forced to break down because it can no longer function."

Brushing the strands of hair off of your face, he continues. “You’re just burnt out at the moment. So please, take a break, okay?”

You adamantly shake your head. You can’t waste time. “I can’t. I need to finish it all.”

Akashi's eyes soften, a look of patience on his face. “It’s not a matter of you can’t, love. You must. I’ll help you brainstorm ideas after you’ve had at least a little rest. You need it.”

Upon seeing that you have no choice. He is right after all. You give in, nodding. “Okay.”

Akaashi pulls you to the center of the bed and positions you comfortably in front of him. He holds you until he notices your even breathing, indicating you've fallen asleep. 

In the stillness, he whispers, "I’ll fight off every thought that’s too loud for even you to silence." A promise marked on this day and for the future beyond. 

#II. –⚜ jasswrites. #haikyu #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyu imagines #haikyu headcanons #hq imagines #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #akaashi x reader #hq akaashi #akaashi scenarios #akaashi fluff #akaashi imagine #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x y/n #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fic #akaashi imagines #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi headcanons #akaashi comfort

[groenendaelfic]

Do you think Simon would actually be willing to become the Prince Consort tho?! Like yes he LOVES Wille but I don't think he'd ever wanna officially set a foot in that system let alone give up his career for being a working royal

The quick answer is yes, I think he’d thrive. Go read my fic Becoming Prince Simon for details.

The long answer is that I think that just like we tend to make Wilhelm into this social justice prince who’d love being a house husband and hates being a royal, when in fact he is quite comfortable with ignoring staff while he walks past them in a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants because there’s nothing more normal than living in a palace and having staff cater to him for him, and he actively enjoys ordering Jan-Olof to send him food to the middle of nowhere Hillerska, to name but two examples of how Wilhelm very much doesn’t mind being royal or privileged, and just hates being told what to do or say and having to act like someone he isn’t, Simon, too, isn’t this grand idealist.

Sure he’d like being treated fairly, who doesn't, especially when you always draw the short straw even while following the rules while your classmates get away with breaking them without problem, but the truth is he’s rather pragmatic.

He gets back in contact with his drug addict, alcoholic and to a currently unknown degree abusive father so that he can acquire alcohol for his underage classmates to drink so that Sara can attend a party, and then steals drugs to among other things pay for math tutoring because he wants good grades.

I’m not saying Simon would jump at the chance to join the royal family, but he’d come to see the advantages, and I’m not just talking about him being with Wilhelm, but also all the good he can do. He doesn't need to be a monarchist for that.

So yes, I don’t only think Simon would be willing to become Prince Consort, but that he’d thrive once he got accustomed to the idea.

After all modern day Sweden isn’t Czarist Russia or pre-revolutionary France, you can’t just burn that shit down (and get the Soviet Union or Emperor Napoleon), because that wouldn't work and attempting so would do more harm than good. 

You need reform and systematic change, and to change a system you need to interact with it, for example from the inside, and as spouse to the Crown Prince and later King, Simon would be in the ideal position to affect that.

He doesn’t need any actual power to highlight problems and topics important to him or for people to pay attention and listen. It doesn’t always have to be Diana shaking hands with a man with aids in the 80s, it can be something as trivial as the irl second in line opening a fairytale trail in her duchy as a toddler.

What the royal family does (and doesn’t! do) gets publicity and is reported. Simon knows that. He grew up seeing it all the time.

And the people most likely to take note of what the royal family does? Those I dare say are also some of the ones who could do with a bit more exposure to the causes Simon would highlight.

Also not to be mean but give up what career? We know Simon enjoys making music and he wants to get out of small town Bjärstad, but as far as we know he has no great, specific career ambitions he’d have to give up.

I’m gonna end this with a potentially triggering and extreme example, so take care.

When the royal court announced that the irl Swedish crown princess had an eating disorder I was in junior high. I'll always feel sorry for what she had to go through so publicly and it definitely is another point on the list of why monarchies and celebrity culture are the worst, but I also cannot overstate how much good that publicity did when it came to bringing awareness to the topic of eating disorders.

Suddenly that was something that was seriously discussed as an illness by people in power and who otherwise never would have, and not just in a ‘haha those silly teenage girls wanting to look like Kate Moss’ kind of way, because it was the crown princess and not some random pop starlet, and if that can happen to someone like her, then who is to say it can’t also affect our own children etc?

We were taught about it in school, in detail, when my older cousins never were, how to recognize them, how to help, where to go for help. More, there suddenly were places to help, places that were actively advertised which hadn’t been before.

There were clinical programs being opened and awareness campaigns launched, and not just in Sweden. (I’m not saying she was the only reason, it was the late nineties, it was really, really necessary, but she was a big deciding factor when it came to the amount and speed at which things changed)

It sucks that royals and celebrities highlighting important issues can make such a difference, and I’m the first to go yell abolish all systems of inequality irl, but Simon could do a lot of good as a working royal, and he’d actually care about changing things, instead of just finding it a boring necessity like irl royals and the YR royal family including Wilhelm do, which is why I think that in a few years, given time, he would very much be willing to become part of the system if only to bring what change he can, especially when no one else can take his place and do it instead of him.

#king wilhelm ftw #prince simon ftw #ask me anything #young royals #young royals meta #random ramblings

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

I cannot believe this is chapter 50 of this fic!! Thank you so much for still being here, for still loving on this version of our favs almost a whole year into writing SGW (end of November 2022 is when I started to post it!). It means the world to me because I love this version of them so much.

As it is October 12th, our beloved Emily Prentiss's birthday, I have dedicated this chapter to celebrate that, and given it a special banner to mark the occasion.

There is still SO MUCH of this fic to go in my little head, so who knows...maybe we'll have another 50 chapters?!

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.9k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

October 12 1991

She just needs a minute to herself. 

It’s what she tells herself as she leaves the party supposedly being thrown in her honour. The house filled to the brim with her mother’s friends and their sons, men deemed suitable for her to date and marry, and people Emily hadn’t really seen or spoken to since she left for college. 

This had never been her home, not really. It was a base. The place they came to for a month or so in between her mother’s postings, somewhere she knew could have been a home if her parents had made different choices. 

She sighs as she hears her mother’s laugh, the gregariousness that Elizabeth only ever truly had when she’d been drinking. It had been a problem for years, since her father had left, but Emily knew it had got worse since she’d gone to college, as if the loneliness her mother had always seemed to strive for hadn’t been as peaceful as she thought it would be. It made guilt bubble in her stomach even though she knows it’s not her fault, that she finally deserved her own life. The chance to find some stability. 

She pulls the office door closed behind her, grateful for the barrier it creates, for the way it muffles the sound she was hiding from. She pauses when she spots the mostly empty bottle of scotch on her mother’s desk, its presence answering a question she’d never dare ask. She walks over and grabs it, pouring herself a measure into one of the crystal glasses Elizabeth kept in here. She then drops the, still not empty, bottle into the trash can, finding satisfaction in the sound it makes as it hits the bottom, the clang echoing around her, briefly blocking out the sound outside. 

She sits on the couch in the corner, sinking into it as she looks at the drink in her hand before she blows out a breath. 

“Happy 21st birthday to me,” she says, taking a sip of the scotch. She drops her head back against the couch cushion, “At least she buys the decent stuff.” 

Her peace is disrupted as the door opens, a brief burst of sound draws her attention towards it. She furrows her brows as she sees one of her mother’s new security agents walk in. He seems just as shocked to see her, freezing in place in the doorway as their eyes meet. 

“Miss Prentiss,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were in here, I was just looking for some paperwork.” 

She smiles politely at him, “That’s ok Agent…” she drifts off, cursing herself for not remembering his name.

“Hotchner,” he says, finishing for her, his smile polite as he steps further into the room, “Isn’t it your birthday party out there?”

She smiles and nods, “Yes, yes it is. I just needed a break from all of the suitors my mother lined up for me this evening,” she says, and he raises his eyebrow at her, clearly trying to stop himself from smiling, “I’m being serious.”

He smiles politely, “Well, I’ll get what I came for and leave you to it.”

She’s not sure what makes her say it, whether it was the fact he was nice, or because he was handsome, but she’s speaking before she’s aware she’s going to, “You should stay. Have a drink with me.” 

He furrows his brow, a mix of confusion and something close to absolute horror that makes something spark in her chest, “I’m working, I can’t-”

“Come on,” she says, smiling at him, “I won’t tell anyone. Besides, it’s my birthday. It would be rude not to.” 

He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if he should just leave, politely say he had things to do, or if he should stay. His decision is made by the slightly sad sheen to her eyes. He’d never spent much time with her, but she always seemed lonely when he saw her.

“Ok, one drink,” he says, turning to where the glasses are, his eyebrows knitting together when he doesn’t see any liquor. 

“The scotch is in the trash can,” she replies, sipping her drink, finding herself amused by the look on his face, how he doesn’t question what was, on the surface of it, a ludicrous statement. She watches as he pours himself the smallest amount, the amber liquid barely visible from where she is sitting, and he crosses the room and sits next to her, a respectable distance between them.

“Happy Birthday Miss Prentiss,” he says, raising his glass, and she smiles at him. 

“Emily,” she corrects and he nods as he swallows thickly.

“Happy Birthday Emily,” he says, clinking his glass against hers. They exchange a smile and drink. “Your mother seems to be the life of the party.” 

Emily hums and finishes her scotch, letting the liquor burn the back of her throat, “Yeah,” she replies, smiling tightly at him, “She really is,” she looks him up and down, taking in his suit, the way he looked nothing short of an agent. She has an urge to mess with him, to mess up his hair and see what he does, “What does your girlfriend think of you working late?” 

He frowns, “How do you know I have a girlfriend?”

She shrugs, “I can tell,” she says mysteriously, smiling when he looks confused, “You’re a nice guy. The nice ones are rarely single.” 

He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks go warm at the compliment, “She’s okay with it,” he explains, “Haley, my girlfriend, she knows it’s a means to an end.” 

“That’s good,” she replies, watching as he finishes his drink, “I hope she knows she has one of the good ones.”

He chuckles as he stands up, placing the empty glass on the desk before he picks up what he had come in for, “I’ll let her know,” he walks towards the door, “Happy Birthday again, Emily.”

“Thank you for having a drink with me, Agent Hotchner,” she says, and he turns to face her, offering her a half smile. 

“Aaron.” 

She nods and presses her lips together to stop her smile from getting too wide, “Aaron.”

___

October 12, 2000

Emily curses under her breath as she pushes her apartment door open, her arms full of groceries, her briefcase and the birthday gift her colleagues had bought her. 

She makes it to the kitchen counter and dumps everything she’s holding onto it. She turns and closes her front door, making sure it’s locked before she puts away groceries she knows will go bad before she eats them. She pulls out the card her colleagues had given her, the number ‘30’ emblazoned on the front, and she takes a moment to read the messages inside before she sets it down on the counter, next to the one her mother had sent her, and she heads to the fridge. She pours herself a glass of wine and stares at it for a moment, the scar on her abdomen throbbing. 

A silent warning, a phantom of her worst fear - that she’d turn into her mother. After she’d saved her mother’s life, literally giving her part of herself and turning down a once in a lifetime job opportunity to do so, things between them hadn’t got better. There were no apologies from Elizabeth, no thank you. No acknowledgement of what Emily had done. It got too painful to be in DC, to watch her mother act as if nothing had ever happened, so when she’d been offered a job doing translation in the FBI Detriot Field Office she hadn’t thought twice. She’d taken the job and started again, only letting her mother know when it was already a done deal. 

She shakes her head and pours the wine away, tipping it unceremoniously down the sink, before she makes herself a hot chocolate, the warmth of the mug in her hands a comfort. 

She settles on the couch and is about to turn on the TV when she hears the phone ring. She groans and gets up, but sees her mother’s number flashing on the screen and she decides not to answer, feeling wholly not in the mood to listen to comments about her life. Thinly veiled criticisms that she thinks she’d accept from someone else. 

Emily knew she wasn’t entirely happy, but it would do for now. She was content to simply exist until she figured out what she wanted her life to look like. 

She sits back down and waits for the call to ring out, the beep of the voicemail ringing out around her. 

“Emily, I had hoped to catch you, but you may still be at work. I just wanted to say Happy Birthday. When you’re here over Thanksgiving I’ll introduce you to Bruce Cameron’s son. He’s your age and is about to get divorced-”

She rolls her eyes and stops listening after that, not paying attention as she flicks through the menu on the television, finally pressing play on something she knows she also won’t pay attention to when the message comes to an end. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if she should be sadder about her 30th birthday being like this. If the loneliness should bother her, but she was used to it. She had friends here, people who had tried to coerce her into going out for drinks, something she’d got out of by lying and saying she was seeing her boyfriend that night, a man she’d broken up with a few weeks ago without telling anyone. 

Emily sighs as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate and she thinks of her 21st birthday. Of Agent Hotchner and how he’d been nice to her, the few minutes they’d spent in her mother’s office the highlight of her day that year. She hadn’t thought about him in years, but all of a sudden she wonders where he is, what he’s doing. If he’d married the girlfriend she’d tricked him into mentioning. If he had kids. 

It’s something she knows she wants. A family. People in her life she knows love her unconditionally, something she’s not even sure her parents had ever done. 

She just hoped she’d get the chance. That her life wouldn’t pass her by, years melting into decades, as she turned into the one person she told herself she’d never be. 

As she drinks her hot chocolate and barely pays attention to the TV, she idly hopes that one day, life will look a lot different for her. 

___

Emily is woken up by a tiny hand on her face, small fingers and sharp nails digging into her skin. 

“Careful, Lilypad.”

She opens her eyes at the sound of her husband’s voice, and smiles at the sight that greets her. Aaron is sitting on her side of the bed, Lily in his arms, and a tired smile on his face. 

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” She says as she sits up and stamps a kiss on his lips, her hand ghosting over the back of Lily’s head as she does so before she rests her back against the headboard, her hands reaching out for Lily, “Give me my baby.”

Aaron smiles as he does as he’s told, handing Lily over immediately. Emily laughs when she sees the onesie she’s wearing, one she’s never seen before with flowing words on the front.

Happy Birthday Mommy

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, lifting Lily to press several kisses to her cheek before she settles her into her arms, “You’re so fucking cute.” 

“Em.”

She looks up at Aaron and raises an eyebrow, unable to stop herself from smiling, the happiness and joy in her chest too overwhelming to suppress, “She’s 13 weeks old, Aaron, it’s going to be a while before she picks up on cursing,” she says, her smile only getting wider as Aaron shakes his head at her, love shining in his eyes, “So, what’s the plan for today? Now you can finally tell me.” 

He’d kept it secret from her for weeks. His insistence on planning her birthday for her was as endearing as it was irritating. He’d said not only was it her 40th and special because of that, but it was also her first birthday as a mom, and he wanted it to be perfect. 

Aaron swallows thickly, suddenly nervous that he’d got it wrong, but he nods, “Well, first thing this morning Lily and I went out to your favourite bakery to get those pastries you love.”

“You did?” She says, looking down at Lily, the baby’s hand tangled in her hair, “You’ve been busy this morning, huh?”

Aaron hums in response, smiling at the sight of the two of them together, “By the way the woman at the bakery is obsessed with her.”

“As any sane person would be,” Emily replies, tickling her daughter to make her laugh before she looks back at her husband, “So that’s breakfast?”

“Breakfast and then presents. Then Jack is coming over this afternoon,” he says, his heart warming at how excited she looks, her love for his son one of the many things he adored about her, “And this evening Dave is cooking us your favourite meal, and the team are coming here so Lily and Jack can sleep in their own beds and we don’t have to worry about bedtime being disturbed.” 

“You really thought of everything,” she says, the thought of spending the day with the people who meant the most to her a perfect one. She smiles at him, unhooking a hand from under Lily and wrapping it around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “Thank you.” 

“I know it’s a bit simple-”

“Honey, it’s perfect,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips. She smiles at him as she pulls back, “So, are you worried about no longer having a hot wife in her 30s?” 

“No,” He shakes his head at her and reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “You just keep on getting hotter, baby.” 

“Good answer,” She smiles, her cheeks aching with it, and she looks down at Lily, the infant chewing on her fist, “Daddy is so getting laid tonight.” 

“Emily.”

___

The house is bursting at the seams. 

The whole team is there, the gifts and love they brought with them filling all the space. The laughter was so raucous that Emily keeps glancing at the baby monitor, checking the lights on it, just in case she misses Lily crying upstairs. 

As she sits at her dining table, Aaron’s arm slung around the back of her chair with his fingers skimming her shoulder, she feels lucky. She takes a sip of her wine as she looks around, not paying much attention as Derek gives Dave crap about something said on a recent case, the older man taking it in his stride. JJ was smiling wistfully at them in between continuing her conversation with Spencer, her secrecy about her new job something that scared Emily, a feeling she would put away for tonight. Something she’d bury deep inside so she could enjoy this - the life that not all that long ago she convinced herself she’d never have. 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a fork being tapped against a glass, the noise enough to draw everyone's attention, and she looks at her husband, her eyes going wide as she sees him raise his glass, her cheeks already turning pink at the thought of a speech.

“I just wanted to take a moment-”

“Oh God, not a speech,” Derek exclaims, any further protest cut off with a yelp as Penelope stamps on his foot, her eyes narrowed as he looks at her in question. 

“Don’t ruin this for me,” she says, always keen for any insight into Aaron and Emily’s life, and she turns back to the couple in front of her, “Carry on boss-man.” 

Aaron shakes his head and turns to look at Emily, his spare hand on her leg under the table, squeezing softly to stop her protest. They exchange a small smile and she nods. He was never one to talk about how he feels in front of other people, never one to reveal too much, so even though she already felt a little embarrassed she let him carry on.

She could never get enough of his love. It was her lifeline, the very thing she knew she could always rely on. 

“As I was saying,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Derek before he looks around the table, “I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for being here tonight to celebrate Emily’s birthday,” he looks back at his wife, his smile soft, “Em, sweetheart, it’s been 19 years since I first met you and somehow you’re infinitely more interesting and more beautiful than you were even then. I love you and Happy Birthday.” 

She chokes on a sound halfway between a laugh and sob, and is grateful that it’s drowned out by the other’s cheering and clinking their glasses. She had no idea that he remembered. He’d never alluded to it, and neither had she - so sure that it was something that existed only in her memory. A moment between the two of them that was just for her, so worried he didn’t remember it that she hadn’t wanted to embarrass either one of them by bringing it up. 

The sound of crying cuts through everything, and Emily goes to stand, but Aaron stops her, his hand still on her thigh, and he leans in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve got her,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips, both of them ignoring Penelope’s enjoyment as Emily places her hand on his cheek and keeps in place a beat longer than he’d intended. He pulls back and smiles at her, “You enjoy yourself.” 

She watches as he leaves, her eyes fixed on him until he disappears from view. 

“Em.” 

She turns to see JJ and Penelope leaning in over the table, “You never told us you met Hotch when you were young.” 

She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, “It was nothing really,” she says, and both of her friends raise their eyebrows at her. She’s not sure if it’s the wine in her system, or the love that was warming her from the inside out, but she sighs and carries on, “It was my 21st. My mom threw me an awful party and I hid in her office. Aaron was working there at the time, he came in to get something. I made him have the world's quickest drink with me.” 

Penelope squeals and sits back in her chair, her smile so wide Emily’s sure it must hurt, “It’s like you’re meant to be.”

For once, Emily can’t bring herself to say she doesn’t believe in that kind of thing, because she thinks she agrees.

___

“Dave sure knows how to use every dish in a kitchen.” 

Aaron chuckles at his wife as she stacks dishes next to the sink and he walks over, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her into his embrace. He kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin when it makes her shiver. 

“It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to be doing the dishes,” he says, his hands on her hips as he turns her in his arms, “I’ll sort them later.”

She nods as she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through his hair, “Thank you for everything today,” she says, smiling as thought of it all. Of the jewellery Aaron had bought her, a beautiful necklace with a Lily flower carved into the small disk pendant,  the line of cards on the mantel from the team. The glitter that she knew she’d be finding for months which had come loose from the handmade card that Jack had made, Haley’s neat writing on the inside. 

“You deserve it and more, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips firm against hers. He presses his hand to her lower back to pull her closer. She hums as she pulls away and she rests her head on his shoulder, content to stand there with him. 

“Mom didn’t call,” she says, her cheeks pressing into his shirt, “I knew she wouldn’t, I asked her not to but…” 

It was a complicated feeling, a situation she knew her mother couldn’t win. If she’d contacted her she’d be going against what Emily had asked of her, but it was still her birthday. A big milestone that had gone unmarked. Their usual game of Elizabeth calling and pretending she didn’t know Emily was screening her call, only for Emily to return the call a few days later, nowhere to be found. 

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of her head, “It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” she replies, giving herself a moment before she clears her throat, wanting to only focus on the good today. All the ways she’d been shown that she was loved - everything she’d hoped for as she sat in her apartment in Detriot on her 30th birthday. She bites her lip as she pulls back to look at him, her eyes meeting his as she says what she’d been wanting to say all evening, forcing herself to wait until it was just the two of them, “I didn’t realise you remembered that moment on my 21st,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I…never wanted to bring it up in case you didn’t.” 

Aaron cups the back of her head, “Sweetheart, there is nothing on earth that would ever make me forget you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair, “Even then I was fascinated by you.” 

She blushes and bites the inside of her cheek, “Why did you never mention it?” 

“I didn’t think you remembered,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “I’m serious, I really thought you forgot. Then a few weeks ago when we went looking for that scotch for Dave, you picked up that bottle and said-”

“I drank this on my 21st.” 

He smiles as she finishes his sentence, “Yeah. And then I realised you remembered too.” 

She leans in to kiss him, her lips firm against his, and she loses herself in the feeling of him, of the way she was drowning in his affection. They eventually pull back, both breathless with swollen lips. She looks towards the diffraction of the stairs.

“How long do you think we have until Lily wakes up?”

He looks at his watch, “Maybe 20 minutes?”

She smiles devilishly at him and pulls away just enough to push herself onto the kitchen counter, “Then we’d better be quick.” 

She pulls him in by his shirt collar and kisses him again before he can complain, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

He was going to clean the kitchen in the morning anyway, so she saw no harm in making it a little dirtier beforehand. 

-x-

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[fandom-chic]

Happy Little Family: Chapter 4

Summary: When Vought asks the unthinkable, you are forced to play house with certified psychopath Soldier Boy. Your life (and dignity) may be at stake, but something about him draws you in.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Y/N

A/N: Ok this is where things start to pick up. Hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“Can you wave down the damn waitress? It’s like she can’t even bother to look over here.” You look over at your “husband” as he scowls underneath his sunglasses. You sigh into the beach chair and wave your arm. The waitress seems to notice and makes her way over. 

“Anything I can help you with, ma’am?” You try your best at a polite smile.

“Yes, my husband would like another beer.” She smiles brightly back at you.

“Coming right up!” At that, she brushes a strand of blonde hair off her shoulder and struts away. You cannot help but notice Ben’s gaze linger on the waitress’s painfully short shorts as she makes her way to the bar. You sigh loud enough for him to hear, but Ben ignores you.

He has been like this your whole honeymoon. Since arriving in Miami, you have been surrounded by beautiful people, specifically beautiful women. The only reason you are particularly aware is that Ben cannot seem to look away from every beach beauty that walks by. You look away from him and move your hat over your eyes, trying your best to enjoy the resort. 

It was all-inclusive. What does that mean, you may ask? One may expect endless drinks, extravagant buffets, and loads of activities; however, all-inclusive for the uber-wealthy (which you are now a part of) also means all the hookers and blow a man could ask for. 

The night you arrived, you expected the bare minimum from Ben. At the very least, a nice dinner and a drink or two. Unfortunately, the second your bag hit the ground, he was gone. Where, you may ask? Your question was answered when he stumbled into your room at 4 am, wreaking of booze, drugs, and perfume that didn’t belong to you.

You knew he wasn’t your husband, but could he give the tiniest bit of an effort? You turn toward him, not bothering to feign sleep.

“Looks like you had fun.” You mutter as he kicks off a shoe.

“Hell yeah.” He grumbles, falling onto the bed.

“I was waiting to have dinner with you.” You don’t even hide your disdain. How can you?

“You were?” He fakes ignorance, but you knew it was a shitty act.

“Why else would I be getting dressed up?” 

“Thought you were going out too.” He turns on his side.

“But you left anyway… without me.” The last part of that sentence is almost a whisper. You waited for a response, but all you could hear was snoring. There goes that conversation.

At the pool that day, it was like that awkward conversation never happened. Like he couldn’t even sense your annoyance with his lack of care towards you. He seemed to care about every other woman that walked within a meter of him more than you. Even sitting next to him left you feeling disgusted.

“I’m going for a swim.” You say. He grunts, and you take that as a go-ahead. You throw your sunglasses and hat on the chair and make your way to the gigantic pool. It wasn’t too busy, but who could even afford this kinda place? You step in and push off the stairs, letting the water caress your body. You begin a leisurely breaststroke up the length of the pool. Your strokes were long and purposeful since the last thing you wanted to do was get tired and sit next to your worst nightmare. Although you could admit your limbs were quickly growing tired

You were never the most athletic kid, and you could sense that now as your joints started to burn. To stay away from your monster a bit longer, you swim up to the bar. There stood a bartender whose smile said welcome in. You smiled back.

“Hi, I’ll have a Sauvignon Blanc.” 

“Wow, a white wine girl.” He raises an eyebrow and leans against the bar, “I was expecting you to be more into whiskey or rum.” You feel yourself giggle at that.

“Whiskey? What am I, a sailor?” He laughs at your attempt at a joke.

“More of a badass-looking chick if I do say so myself.” You knew he was flirting with you.

“Badass is something I have never been called.” He leans down, grabs a bottle of wine, and begins to pour you a glass. “Nervous and boring are two that seem to come up more.” He hands the glass over to you, and you take a large gulp.

“Who says that kinda bullshit?” You know exactly, “I see someone resilient and sexy.”

“Does this line usually work on your rich divorcees and television actresses?” He smirks.

“The success rate is pretty 50/50.” You chuckle at his honesty, “But I’m being honest, you’re a sexy, badass chick.” You’re about to flirt back when you suddenly feel a hand grab your hip and squeeze. You turn to the side and see Ben glaring at your bartender friend.

“What’d you just say, man?” He grumbles, his words sharp like nails.

“Just letting this customer know she’s appreciated.” He begins to put the bottle away.

“That’s not what I heard,” At that, Ben’s other hand reaches out and grabs the bartender’s arm, “It sounded like you were hitting on my wife.” 

“Look, dude, I don’t want any trouble. This shit is boring, and I like talking to pretty women.” You can see the fear beginning to form in his eyes as Ben’s grip tightens.

“So you were trying to fuck my wife.” His eyes widen.

“Woah, woah, Woah, no-”

“Ben, we were just talking; it was completely harmless.” He looks over at you with a glare that would cut you in half. You knew this was going to come back and bite you in the ass later. He jerks back to the bartender, eyes unblinking.

“This is a warning motherfucker. Talk to my woman again,” He leans into the bar, his nose almost touching the bartender’s, “You die.” He then lets go and storms off, leaving you stunned. You knew you had to follow him, cool him down, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. Facing his wrath could be deadly, but what else could you do? 

You take a deep breath, chug down the rest of your drink, and place a large amount of money on the bar before following your husband's steps. They lead you back to your large suite, where he is standing on the balcony, clutching the railing. When he hears the door shut, he looks back at you, eyes scowling at you. 

“What the fuck was that?” He yells, letting go of the railing.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” You scream back.

“You were trying to fuck that mouth breather right in front of me,” He points a finger at you, “Do you just want to humiliate me and make me look like a fucking cuck?” You roll your eyes.

“Look who’s fucking talking! This is coming from the guy who left me all alone on our wedding night to fuck some townies. Oh, and might I add, you’ve been eye fucking any woman who comes within 50 feet of you. How do you think that makes me feel?” He throws his arms up.

“How would I fucking know? You barely talk to me, and when you do, you’re distant.”

“Why do you think that is Ben?” You cross your arms, “Do you think it might be I was trapped in this bullshit relationship and forced to marry a guy I barely know who only wants to talk about how shitty he is.” 

“If you think I’m so shitty, leave!” He points at the door. 

“Maybe I will!” There is a beat before you grab your purse and storm out the door, slamming it behind you. You feel tears forming in your eyes as you walk aimlessly, trying to find somewhere to get some privacy to sob. You find an elevator and click the last button. You sniffle and rub your nose as you are brought to the roof. 

You walk out of the elevator and over to the railing, leaning over the edge. You had to admit, although this may have been the worst vacation of all time, Miami beach was pretty beautiful. Probably some of the bluest water you had ever seen. As you let your mind wander, you heard the elevator door ding. You look over and see a figure rush out, go to the other edge of the railing, and light up a cigarette. When the tears started to dry and you could focus, you immediately recognized who it was.

“Of course.” You say, loud enough for Ben to hear. His gaze shoots over to you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, taking a puff.

“I should ask you the same thing. You had that whole room to cool down in.” He moves toward you and rests against the railing next to you.

“Wanted to get a smoke break, and this seemed like the best place.” Then there was silence as you both looked out at the city, thinking. 

“Ben,” He turns to you, “Are you happy?” He snorts lightly.

“No, are you?” You shake your head.

“Of course not.” You look over at him, “So why are you doing all this then?” He shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” You press. He sighs.

“Why would I be a nobody when I could be a somebody? What’s the point in life if no one even fucking remembers you were here.” He takes another hit.

“Why does it matter if you’re remembered if you’re miserable.” 

“Because,” He breathes out a puff of smoke, “At least I know I’m loved by someone.” That was not the answer you expected. “My dad never gave a shit. My mom barely tolerated me. No siblings to write home about. But,” he dabbed his cigarette out on the railing, “I have millions of fans who would do anything for me.” The silence continues again. This time, it is meaningful. You place a hand on his arm and squeeze. He places a hand on top of yours.

“I think that’s the first real thing you’ve said to me.” He grimaces and looks away, “And I like it. I like the real you.” He looks back at you. “He’s sad and disturbed but has a semblance of a heart.” He is silent, his green eyes now gazing into yours with something you haven’t seen yet. 

Suddenly, you cannot help but notice his lips approaching yours. You could pull away. You could push him away, but you don’t. You lean forward, resting a hand on his strong shoulder. His lips meet yours. You feel his lips move against yours as he holds onto your hips, pulling you closer to him. It was not the kiss you expected from a guy like Ben. It was sweet. Kind. Searching for affection. As quickly as the kiss began, it was over. Then he was gone, and you were alone again on the roof.

Taglist: @globetrotter28 @bowlegsandbiceps @bxdbxtxh15 @curlycarley @deliriouslybi @spn730015 @valkyrie418 @lacilou @siospins2 @little-x-wolf @ackles79 @lokigonnakmsforbucky @sithlordpadawan @planet-ashtroid @capswife @azgucci

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[crowfeatherquill]

One Soul the Price of Seven Thousand

Tathlyn is only vaguely aware of what’s happening behind him with Cazador’s sarcophagus as he crosses the blood-drenched battlefield in a haze of shock and exhaustion. He hears the sounds of stone on stone, and the familiar timbre of Astarion’s voice, raised and harsh in agitation over something, but he can’t make out the words. He’s too focused on the rent and bloody bodies of his dearest friend and his…well, his something. He’s not really sure what he is to Halsin, nor whether he’s really in a position to have him in the way he wants.

The sight of his gorey corpse, mutilated by ghoul and werewolf claws, sits no lighter for Tathlyn’s indecision.

He crouches down, ready to heave Halsin over his shoulders and attempt to lift him -- and finds that his legs fail under the weight. He cannot carry his belongings and a body. At least not one as large as Halsin. His attempts to move Karlach are much the same. It’s not until Astarion addresses him directly that the pitched battle happening mere feet away comes back into focus.

“I can do this,” Astarion says, and they are the first clear words Tathlyn has heard since pitching Cazador over the edge of the ritual platform and into the abyss below, “but I need your help.”

For a long, heart-stopped moment, Tathlyn is struck dumb. He remains where he is, crouched, slick with the blood of too many loved ones to have fallen in one day let alone only an hour, blinking in confusion as what Astarion means sinks in. After all this, he’s still considering going through with it. Taking Cazador’s place in the ascension and becoming…whatever that makes him. Carving out everything that Tathlyn has come to love for the opportunity to live free of fear.

When the words fall out of his mouth, they sound the same way he feels. Hollow. Numb.

“I’m…not going to help you kill all these people.”

Astarion alights with rage. Simmers with it.

“These ‘people’ died years ago, trust me on that. All that’s left are feral spawn, desperate for blood.”

Something tries to stir the embers in Tathlyn’s chest into a feeling -- indignance, perhaps, not on behalf of the spawn he barely knows, but because of what Astarion is saying about himself without seeming to realize -- but they’re burning too low to be roused. All he can manage is to sigh and purse his lips.

Astarion seems perfectly content to fill the silence.

“Think about it. If we release them, how many people will they kill? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? They’d have to die anyway, it’s the only moral thing to do. If I complete this ritual, it keeps them out of the streets and puts them to good use. I’d be able to help you save the city -- really help you! And…and I’d be free.” His voice descends into that tender, quiet place it only goes when he’s trying to get something he wants. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Tathlyn lets what little of Karlach’s weight he was able to bear fall from his shoulders as he rises, and steps carefully away from the bodies. He draws as close to Astarion as he was the night he found him looking into an empty mirror and does not let it show on his face how much it hurts to see Astarion pull away.

He looks as close as his lover will let him -- digs deep, trying to glean anything that will tell him where this obsession with power at the expense of anything Astarion could still claim as a soul is welling from. What he finds stuns and softens him in equal measure.

Astarion is afraid, yes. That much Tathlyn expected. But there is an absent, hungry edge to him as well that Tathlyn hasn’t seen in weeks. He tries to put himself in Astarion’s place -- to understand -- and it makes his heart ache to realize what he’s seeing.

The whole room reeks of blood and thrums with power, and Astarion is standing on the precipice -- it would appear to him -- of a life free of every burden he has carried these past two centuries. It dawns on Tathlyn that this temptation would prove impossible for many people to resist. That this is the first time since escaping Cazador’s clutches that a burden so heavy has been handed to Astarion. And most importantly, that despite all appearances, Astarion is…fighting it.

Tathlyn’s lover is looking to him for help, yes, but not in the way that he says. He does not want permission to do this awful thing. He wants a hand in being stopped. And Tathlyn, bloodied as they are, has two.

He steps forward again, closing the distance before Astarion has the opportunity to make more, and takes his face in his hands, leaving more streaks of red on those pale, delicate cheeks.

“Stars…look at me.”

It takes time and effort for Astarion to tear his eyes away from Cazador, but when he does, they are wild, wanting, and wet with unshed tears.

“I want you to live a life you’re proud of,” Tathlyn says, in the steadiest tone he can manage, “You can’t be proud of this.”

Astarion watches him for a long time, pinned in place by Tathlyn’s hands on his face. Tathlyn, meanwhile, watches Astarion come back to himself in waves.

Eventually, he speaks, breathless, like coming out of a dream.

“You- you’re right. I can be better than him.” He starts to pull away, turning back to focus on Cazador, and Tathlyn lets him go. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”

Cazador dies violently. Astarion kills him, howling two hundred years of pain into the echoing cavern. He ends up on his knees, drenched in Cazador’s blood as well as his own, breathless, bruised, and still sobbing, and Tathlyn feels his heart break all over again. He cannot help himself but to go to his love -- to kneel in the rapidly-cooling pool of ancient blood beside him and pull him in against his side.

He pulls Astarion to safety, wraps him in his arms, and lets him cry into his neck and shoulder until all that is left is trembling and silence.

He almost forgets Astarion’s siblings until the remnants of the ritual fully fade and suddenly they are surrounded and once again asked to choose -- to decide the fate of seven thousand lives, and of every life those seven thousand will touch.

Tathlyn, exhausted of death and pain, urges to let them go and watches Astarion hand them their freedom and tell them it is up to them whether they seize it or hang themselves with it. He directs them to the Underdark -- to relative safety away from the sun and away from the city -- and somewhere underneath the shock, Tathlyn finds that he’s excited to see what they build there. Much as he loves his home, if there’s one thing it lacks, it’s voluntary fresh blood.

Perhaps, he thinks, for the first time in his life, something new will grow in those caverns. Something that wants to be there.

Astarion returns to his side as they go -- presses his face into Tathlyn’s neck and twines his arms around Tathlyn’s middle, and Tathlyn holds him firm.

“Let’s…let’s just go,” he says, barely a whisper, “This place reeks of death and I…want to feel alive again.”

There are still Halsin and Karlach’s bodies to think of. Still the Gur to report back to -- to explain what happened to their children, and hope for their understanding of the choices made. But…for now, there isn’t anything that Tathlyn thinks he’d like more. They’ll handle what comes next one step at a time, and a breath of fresh, free air sounds like as good a first step as any he’s ever heard.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 romance spoilers #astarion romance #astarion romance spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #m!tav #male tav #drow tav #halsin #bg3 halsin #karlach #bg3 karlach #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 oc

[mephinomaly]

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 4

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Kaoru: Why would we take part in an experiment that sounds like something a sci-fi movie villain would do…?

Tomoya: “If we are able to duplicate people, duplicate idols, there are many advantages.”

Hajime: “Fundamentally, one person can only do so much. They cannot be in multiple places at once or complete multiple jobs at the same time.”

Tomoya: “However, if we can create clones such as ourselves, it will become possible.”

Hajime: “For example, say there is a super idol with plenty of talent–”

Tomoya: “This idol will be able to simultaneously sing and dance on stage, star in a movie, take part in a gravure photoshoot, recount a funny story on a variety show—”

Hajime: “These examples, that would otherwise be impossible, become possible.”

Tomoya: “If the original person ages or perhaps even dies, the copy will still be able to perform to the best of its ability.”

Hajime: “24/7, 365 days a year!”

Tomoya: “They won’t get sick nor be able to complain.”

Rei: Riiight, I suppose that’s true.

Robots do not have human rights. You do not even need to pay them a salary, all you must do is cover the cost of manufacturing and maintaining.

To a manager, it is better than a real idol whose body can rapidly degrade.

Koga: That’s fuckin’ insane, man. ES is… Is ES heartless or somethin’?

Rei: Nay, Itsuki-kun would say that it is only human nature to want to bend the world around you for your own wishes.

Kaoru: Itsuki-kun? Isn’t that more of a Tenshouin-kun thing to say?

Rei: He has a surprisingly unique outlook on art. I’m his friend, so I would know.

Adonis: Fumu… Personally, I understand the overall concept, but I’m struggling to accept this.

This sort of technology is an extension of drawing AI. When there’s AI that is better than real humans with beating hearts, that can easily be mass produced—

What do we do then?

AI has been able to accomplish tasks in seconds compared to us, who could take a year or even a decade to do the same thing.

And that can all be done with a simple press of a button.

In the beginning, we will abhor these “monsters”.

There are no laws in place in regards to non-human entities, so they'll be regulated in the same manner drawing AI are, right?

But as time passes, and new laws are passed, when those sort of things become commonplace–

In that future, is there a place for us, real people?

Koga: Y-You alright, Adonis? Ain’t you bein’ unusually talkative?

Adonis: I’ve been thinking about AI technology since Yuuki showed it to me. I’m not good at thinking, so I’ve yet to come up with an answer.

Rei: Adonis-kun is a serious boy.

For me, if that is the current trend, I want to follow it. Whether you dislike it or not, you cannot prevent big trends such as that.

Even if we feel disgusted and consequently don’t participate in this experiment, these guys will just ask other idols to do it in our place.

Hajime: “Yep.”

Tomoya: “We don’t particularly need UNDEAD’s help.”

Koga: Oi! What are you tryna say, huh? Ain’t you suppose t’be actin’ cute?

Tomoya: “We are aware that our actions and words are uncharacteristic of the original Ra*bits members.”

Hajime: “We, at best, are 40% accurate to the original people.”

Tomoya: “Our external appearance have been the main focus, rather than the internal, such as speech and behaviour.”

Rei: You are using tricky phrases that is unusual for Ra*bits.

Hajime: “Yes. In order to accurately replicate the internals, that is to say, one’s mental state and personality, we need data from your brains.”

Tomoya: “And that is what we are requesting of you for this experiment.”

Hajime: “Now, we will install these devices to your heads, or more specifically, your brains.”

Tomoya: “Then, we will download as much data as we can from your brains, and use it to recreate you.”

Hajime: “We believe we are capable of reproducing the identical idols, both on the inside and the outside.”

Kaoru: A-are you going to suck out our brains? Isn’t that kinda gross?

Hajime: “Your wording is misleading.”

Tomoya: “We are only obtaining data, your physical and mental will not be damaged in the process.”

Hajime: “Of course, private information will be protected in accordance with the law.”

Kaoru: ...

Hajime: “Well, if you don’t want to, you can always refuse.”

Tomoya: “If you refuse, we will ask other idols, such as Ra*bits, to participate in your place.”

Hajime: “However, the experiment cannot be cancelled.”

Tomoya: “Until we are able to create the perfect AI idol, the AIIE project will not stop.”

Rei: ...

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #biohazard #undead climax #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #adonis otogari #rei sakuma #mephi's translations

[wibble-wobbegong]

Mike’s Romantic Hope

I’ve mentioned this topic in a couple of my other Mike analysis, but I really want to dive into the timeline of Mike’s journey with his romantic hope. More specifically, I want to address the hope he held at the end of S3 and the impact it had on his behavior in S4 as well as where he stands going into S5.

The Ending of S3

Now, I’m aware that this is popularly accepted as the point when Mike realized he had feelings for Will. It seems that way on the surface, but I heavily disagree with that theory and I’ll be working off my personal belief that he realized his feelings back in S2.

Acknowledging that Mike is well aware of his feelings for Will in S3, I’d like to step back to an important moment between Mike and Will before breaking down the ending.

The rain fight. As much as this gets discussed, I find it interesting how little the implications of this scene are talked about in regards to how Mike views his relationship with Will. We all know that Mike’s line about sitting in his basement and playing games for the rest of their lives was a moment of Mike projecting his owns wants onto Will.

The thing about that line is that we also know that the idea of playing games in his basement for the rest of their lives is much more than just the surface level implication. Games and childhood are both heavily tied to Mike and Will’s love for each other and the idea of doing that for the rest of their lives implies an “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” We especially see this in the way Mike reacts to the Byers’ moving, as he isolates himself and plays games in his basement alone with his drawings from Will around (he’s been going through them). I also believe that was when he realized that his feelings ran deeper than just a crush, that they were more than something he could get over by growing up. Those feelings were never something he’d simply be able to move past by trying to be normal.

So, Mike attaches his love to the idea of spending the rest of his life with Will in his basement playing games. How does this affect the way Mike views his relationship with Will? Will’s response to this accusation is to say that, yes, he does want that very same thing Mike is afraid of. He feels the exact same way, wants the exact same thing. Mike’s feelings are being reciprocated here, even as Will remains unaware of that.

Mike never gets the chance to talk about that fight with Will, apologize, or even really process it until the Byers have already moved away. He then goes through his period of isolation and realizes that he’s deeply, truly in love with Will in a way that cannot be ripped out of him no matter how hard he pulls. Between the move in July and the Byers return in October (to gather their things), Mike meets Eddie, who encourages him to accept his differences. Mike needed that sort of person in his life at the time, to tell him that his feelings were okay.

By the time October hits and the Byers have returned, there have been four important things established in Mike’s life:

1. He’s in love with Will.

2. Will seemed to feel the same way before he moved.

3. He’s taken steps towards accepting his sexuality.

4. He and El are broken up for good (it’s been four whole months).

At the end of season 3, these things are all true for Mike. These things come together to influence this scene:

He’s speaking in code, the same way Will was when he told him that he was ruining the party. What he’s asking here is more than just, “What if you find a new best friend?”

He’s also asking, “Do you still want to be a part of my party, where we sit in my basement and play games?”

He’s asking if Will still feels the way he felt before he moved, back before they fought. Mike, who realized with the dim light of his Nintendo and the loneliness of his now-empty basement that he is in love, is asking Will if he loves Mike too. Will isn’t aware of it because he isn’t aware of Mike’s feelings, but nonetheless he says it’s not possible for him to let those feelings go either.

Mike’s smile after that? Pure joy. I’m putting him in my pocket and taking him to see the wonders of the world.

This ends fantastically in Mike’s mind, and he approaches El and makes light-hearted conversation. He’s awkward about it, still a little insecure, but he’s being himself. El doesn’t shut him down this time. They’re broken up and it’s the best interaction they’ve had all season. Mike cringes at himself, but he’s making an effort to have a friendship with El even though they broke up.

And then El kissed him and confesses her love. After four months of being broken up.

Mike just got confirmation that Will feels something for him too, and now El has pulled him back into a relationship he can’t reject without breaking the promise he made El way back in S1. He promised her a romantic relationship, and promises are things he feels he can’t break. The situation has obviously grown more complex since then, including El’s crave for comfort after Hopper’s death and Mike being terrified of outing himself before he’s ready, but the result remains the same: Mike has to continue this relationship with El. It crushes him. He’s just gonna through a massive emotional realization and taken many baby steps forward, only to be pushed backwards.

Mike doesn’t want things to change again, he wants Will to stay and he wants to keep playing games in his basement with Will. He wants to be with Will, and that’s been ripped out of his hands.

And yet, Mike had no reason to think what Will said about his own feelings isn’t true. It hurts that much more because Mike had hope, still has hope, a hope he can’t chase after.

Impact on S4

That brings me to S4. How does Mike’s ending hope in S3 impact the way he acts in S4?

For starters, let me remind you that Mike believed Will was ignoring him for a vast majority of those six months between the October return and spring break. Will’s actions were directly contradicting his words, and if we know anything it’s that actions mean more than words. He’d promised that he wouldn’t move on, unintentionally said that he loves Mike too, and then is almost radio silent for six months. Almost all of Mike’s calls go unanswered. He likes a girl, now. Everything Mike is being led to understand goes directly against what Will told him.

When he gets to California, there’s a lot going through his head. There’s anger at being ignored, a longing for Will, jealousy of this girl El mentioned (Will bringing the painting did not help at all), butterflies at seeing how Will has changed, and nervousness around having to pretend to be happy with El again. He still has to keep up his role of the perfect boyfriend, the straightest boy on the planet, so everything ruminating around in his brain leads to the most awkward half-hug I’ve ever seen in my life.

That anger at being ignored grows even more when Mike still feels like he’s being ignored by Will at Rink-o-Mania, fueling the fire that will become their fight. Mike lists all these reasons he’s frustrated, and Will tries to explain them away and Mike isn’t having it (Mike actually squints at Will and raises his hands a little at this part, in a ‘are you serious?’ motion).

“Yeah, whatever man.”

The second part of the fight though is what really gets at Mike. When Will asks about them, asks, “What about us,” Mike reacts with romantic intention because, in his eyes, what’s happening is layered with his knowledge of both of them wanting to spend forever together, playing games in his basement. He’s still under the impression that Will moved on and found some girl in California to paint for instead of Mike. He’d fallen for some girl and moved on from Mike. But, the line catches his attention, because now Will is talking as though he doesn’t understand what happened to them. Mike’s demeanor changes completely for that split second.

Then, Will goes on and starts making claims that he thinks are fact, but Mike knows he’s wrong. Mike does care about what he has to say. He did try to call. Will brings up his letters to El, which Mike views as an inherently romantic thing, so he gets defensive. As much as Mike wanted to be with Will, he was still trying to be El’s boyfriend and keep himself safely in the closet. Mike expresses his frustration in the fact that Will never reached out either before cooling down and saying that they should just focus on finding El.

Mike’s perspective is interesting, especially when we see how he seems to contradict himself. He shows frustration at Will moving on, despite he himself continuing to pretend to date El. He’s angry that Will seemingly ignored him all day, but he continues to his behind the facade of El in that first part of their fight rather than approaching the root of the issue. Mike’s perspective would’ve been just as unreliable as Will’s is in this situation because of these contradictions. Neither of their perspectives will paint a full picture on their own (hence the choice of only letting us see Will’s perspective throughout S4).

Now, I’m gonna skip over his fight with El because this post is specifically about his romantic interest, so we’re jumping straight over to after he receives the letter “From, El.”

This isn’t technically a break up. As @heroesbyler pointed out in one of her posts, this is El telling Mike that she doesn’t love him either. They’ve reached an understanding that neither of them are in love with each other (a beautiful set-up for the SBP conversation. i love argyle but GOD DAMNIT). Even though he’s still technically in a relationship, he knows that El doesn’t love him romantically. That’s why I think he was suddenly so much flirtier than he was willing to be beforehand.

He no longer has to worry about hurting El by not being in love with her. A weight has been lifted off of him, and he’s suddenly more free to move in his own feelings. With the knowledge that Will never meant to ignore him, that the girl he thought Will liked was someone Will clearly would never like, and that he doesn’t need to worry about El, Mike is suddenly much more open to reconnecting with Will and flirting.

He’s a flirt here:

And here:

And I think this counts too (hand holding):

His belief that Will might feel the same is brought back to life and spurred on by their heart-to-heart in 4x04. Mike’s hope is alive and thriving. I think that the only reason he didn’t approach the topic of their relationship directly is because he was hyper-focused on saving El once Unknown Hero Agent Man tells the Cali group that El is in danger. Mike puts his friends’ safety above literally everything else, even his own life, so it makes perfect sense that he’d be more worried about finding El than having that conversation with Will. One of those could wait, the other could not.

The next step in this equation is the Van Scene. I have talked about it over, and over, and over, so I won’t delve into it here but Mike did understand Will I’m that scene and it gave him insurmountable amounts of hope.

Something I want to note, real quick, is that while Mike is no longer afraid of hurting El by not being in love with her, he’s still scared that she won’t want him around at all now that they’re broken up. He doesn’t see himself as valuable to her if he isn’t her boyfriend. Those ideas are coexisting, no contradicting.

All of this combined, Mike’s talk with El at the SBP would definitely have been a break-up talk. Mike’s face when El says that she misses him, not loves him, is so happy. El confirms that she still wants Mike around, but she isn’t taking back her stance about not being in love with him.

Mike’s at an all time high right now. He isn’t gonna lose El and he has no reason to doubt that Will loves him back. Things are going great.

“You’re the heart.”

That one line is all it takes to grind that hope into dust. Suddenly, Will doesn’t love Mike back. He was talking about El in the van. El still loves Mike, and not being in love with her would hurt her. She still needs him to be her boyfriend. It doesn’t make sense, but Mike doesn’t have time to question it, so he jumps into action and starts spewing ‘El’s’ words right back at her and throws in some things he’d used to communicate his love in the past. It’s all bullshit, and both Mike and El know that.

At the end of the season, Mike has no reason to believe Will loves him anymore. If he ever did at all. Yet, he’s still choosing to stand by Will’s side and letting El go because Mike is still very much so in love with Will. It couldn’t be torn out of him by growing up, and it won’t be torn out of him just because Will doesn’t feel the same.

Going Into S5

That’s where we’re starting S5 at. Mike has 0 reason to believe Will loves him back, but he’s gonna stay with him anyway. The ball is in Will’s court right now, but he doesn’t know it. Will is unaware of all of this which hurts even more. Miscommunication is such a bitch.

There are a lot of ways S5 could go with their relationship, but the painting fight is gonna be the trigger. Mike is gonna be so, so confused when El breaks up with him and he finds out that she had nothing to do with the painting. He just had all his hopes stomped on, and as stubborn as Mike is, that’ll be hard to come back from. Will has to admit that his feelings were disguised as El’s in order for them to move forward.

I’d have to be Dr. Strange or some shit to give you an accurate prediction of how their plot will go in S5, but I can say that Will has to make the first move and that Mike is gonna go through a shit storm of feelings about it all. All that on top of Eddie’s death, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts isolating himself again. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an actual divide driven between Will and Mike that only ~supernatural intervention~ could bring them back together, similar to lu/max this season.

Thank you for reading!!! I know it was a long one, but this is something I’ve been wanting to dig into for a while. I’m sorry if I sound like I’m repeating myself sometimes, it’s just that there are so many angles to come at these scenes and perspectives from. This is definitely one for my fellow mike enthusiasts though >:)

#byler #mike wheeler #mike analysis #this was so fun to write #i love talking about mike #all the time #i have never beta-ed a post and i never will

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Also shorter ones today… mostly related to our previous replies and posts!

Anonymous asked:

After seeing Eel Floyd with Riddle

AND THOSE BITE MARKS 👀👀👀👀

I gotta know -

Did Floyd slip and slide in Riddle?

Or

Also

Did Riddle magically goldfish form and the two had merman sex???

Honestly I wasn’t thinking about Riddle also becoming a merman, but they absolutely have to have merman sex at some point, otherwise it just isn’t fair (to me) lol

And to answer your first question, yes, there might have been some slipping and sliding in Riddle involved~

Anonymous asked:

re: the gaslighting Jade ask. I randomly stumbled on your blog from other ones, and I literally blocked you because shroudcest triggers me. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own safety. As long as it’s properly marked for (which yours clearly is since I blocked you the second I made a tumblr), really all we can do is filter the things that hurt us out.

(im agreeing with you btw. draw what you want i cant stop you. just feel like i in particular make a point worth mentioning from seeing that. you can answer this or not bc obviously i probably wont see it anyway)

Anon! Whether you see this reply or not, thank you very much for writing this despite having us blocked lol

You really are making a good point, and I am glad that you are taking care of yourself and avoiding uncomfortable stuff. I really encourage it. Thank you for understanding and for approaching this issue with respect.

Have a good day.

Anonymous asked:

Gaslighting IS Jade’s love language. Also mushrooms.

Facts, Anon <3 He doesn’t waste his gaslighting and mushrooms on those he doesn’t find entertaining love!

Anonymous asked:

Honestly I can totally see Cater as the kind of guy that now and then buys a random manga just because the cover looks aesthetically pleasing, although if they are BL they are probably more oriented towards shonen-ai than explicit content. But also he wouldn't really read them because he finds the stories and characters a bit ridiculous (is he a bitter anti-romantic? or maybe his sisters used to collect shojo manga and he associates the love story genre with them?). I bet when he had roommates he had fun leaving one of his manga lying around, just to see people's reaction and go "aw, shoot, you saw it? that's sooo embarassing..." or something like that

To be honest, I can see that too. Cater seems like someone who isn’t all that into anime and manga, but is aware of it enough to recognise that the cover is pretty and that there is something gay inside (he might figure out the latter thing later as he looks inside the book lol). His sisters really could be into it though, so I can see him having certain associations.

lol Cater’s roommates “finding” his manga though… Don’t act so coy, Cater 😭

Anonymous asked:

Goddammit! Idia, you cannot escape me for long, one way or another, your chest will be licked! *shakes fist at the sky*

I love how this is turning into a Looney Tunes cartoon…

Anonymous asked:

Idia doesn’t have nipples. He accidentally shaved them off. Tragic 😔 L in the chat for his nipples.

Damn. I’m afraid I have bad news for the previous Anon.

Anonymous asked:

Do you have any HCs for Neige and/or Chenya?

We do have HCs about Neige/Vil and Chenya/Riddle (1,2)!

Anonymous asked:

It is I, 🐩 anon,

So I got a friend into twst and tell me why her favorite character is goddamn Crowley? I'm currently trying to convert her to Divus supremacy. Enough about this. Let me ask my silly little question.

Is there anything about TWST's story plot that you dislike or wished it was worked on more? Or character you wish were more fleshed out? 

Your friend has quite the taste… She is probably a genius of sorts 😔🙏

I feel like I was pretty vocal about it, so I am sorry for talking about it again, but I really didn’t enjoy how Ch2 was handled and Leona in general, to be honest. I wrote a post about my grievances a whole year ago, but my stance didn’t really change. We’ve rewatched the majority of the main story since then, and I thought that maybe with fresh minds and fresh eyes we would enjoy Leona at least to some degree, but unfortunately it didn’t really help. The events don’t really help either…

There might be some other things, but this is the one I think about every time when we talk about the flaws of TWST writing.

Anonymous asked:

what is your notp?

A bunch of Leona ships come to mind, i.e. Leona/Malleus, Leona/Vil, Leona/Idia 🤔 But also a bunch of Trey ships, like Trey/Jade or Rook/Trey…

Anonymous asked:

if you had to go on a date with one of the twst boys who are you picking? i'm picking idia

Idia is a great option, Anon; he would be so uncomfortable and awkward, getting nervous about the smallest inconveniences and whispering “thank god” every time you don’t force him to do something… I would pick him to, but my second option would be Jamil. I think he’s pretty chill.

Katsu would've picked Jade because of course, this is the best pick.

Anonymous asked:

any old fandoms that you feel out of love with?

Can’t think of any, Anon… I feel like we never fall completely out of love with anything, just move on, but there is always an opportunity that we’ll come back at some point. Things like Homestuck are still on our minds constantly lol

There are some titles that we kind of started watching, but then stopped because it wasn’t fully out yet, and since then we kind of lost interest for this thing. And with some of these titles it’s very unlikely that we’ll ever go back, but it’s never 1000% impossible. But then again, it’s not like we loved these titles…

Anonymous asked:

Funfact: The crowley that crowley is named after used to perform sex based magic with men

Damn I hope this is what our Crowley also does. This is his dark secret that is very poorly hidden

Anonymous asked:

I think Riddle would be a really good teacher's pet

Oh he would <3 He is a teacher’s pet.

Ironically, I feel like this makes him a bit boring for Crewel…although it depends…🤔

Anonymous asked:

What is a ship you rarely draw but you love

I don’t draw any of them enough, I love them all! Waaaaah :(

I feel like I don’t draw Sebek/Silver nearly enough for how much we love them, Rook/Epel is also a rare one but we love it, Sebek/Idia could use more love, anything with Jamil too…

Anonymous asked:

Please share with us a full list of the preference of the TWST boys? Top or bottom? I typed up a list for you to use!

Anon, we have a list in our pinned post! But since you’ve typed up a list, I’ll go through the list again :) We also have a post in which we explain our reasoning for each choice, so you can read it too if you’re interested.

Oh! And if you meant some other types of preferences, please let me know. In that case though, we have a list of the boys’ kinks, which isn’t the same thing, but pretty close; so you can read this one too if you want <3

Riddle – bottom

Ace – top

Deuce – bottom

Trey – top

Cater – top

Leona – bottom

Ruggie – top

Jack  - top

Azul – top

Floyd – top

Jade – top

Kalim – top

Jamil – bottom

Vil – bottom

Rook – top

Epel – bottom

Idia – bottom

Ortho  – top

Malleus– bottom

Sebek  – top

Lilia  – top

Silver– bottom

#replies