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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 months

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Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though...

“Next lad!”

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.

“Next lad!”

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.”

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?”

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.”

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?”

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.”

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.

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wishluc · 11 months

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Can I request a yandre blade and kafka silently in a tug of war for the readers attention (btw the reader is a stellaron hunter being chill like silver wolf)

I adore them Ahhhhh Blade's characterisation is based purely off my impression of him :O

With Kafka seated so close to you, you were surprised that nobody had contacted the authorities yet. The three of you were treated like any other customer in the quaint restaurant, despite your companions having their faces plastered all over Starskiff Haven, and you had yet to be approached by furious soldiers or, if your luck had finally run out, the General himself.

Though you think that if anyone were to attempt to apprehend Kafka, it would make for quite the spectacle. You can already picture the unconcerned expression she'd have, her lips still smiling, her gaze piercing, and her form completely relaxed, and the words she would say to the poor fool—laced with just a hint of mock surprise—before making her way out of the building. At least they'd be alive; if Blade were to get involved...well, you were just glad that his unsettling presence was enough to ward off any justice-driven warrior.

Starwatcher Avenue was gorgeous, without a doubt. In the short time you had been there, you had fallen in love with the bustling streets and the lovely cuisine, though most of your days so far were spent hidden away and waiting for Blade. Despite this, you were really looking forward to leave the Flagship, the anxiety that followed you with being associated with two wanted criminals too much to bear. At least back on your ship, you could easily evade the authorities sent after the Stellaron Hunters.

Kafka, however, was clearly in no rush. She lounged around most of the time, sometimes taking you out for a meal or to go shopping, and appeared to have no worries regarding her status. Even though Blade had regrouped with you, she was still insistent on staying, attempting to placate your troubled heart with sweet, whispered promises and firm assurances. Today's trip was also her way of proving to you that you were in no danger, and you almost believed her.

But you recently realized that living in constant fear of being arrested was nothing compared to the troubles awaiting you. It could be much worse. It could be staying with Blade.

You could...manage, with Kafka. She was unpredictable, at times, but you could rest assured that she'd never put you in harm's way. She never told you what she was planning, forcing you to rely on her cunning words, but you were familiar enough with her by now to know what she expected, and how to appease her. You could play into her desires, smile at her clever quips and lean into her possessive hold, and she would find delight in it all, even though she was aware of your intentions. She liked your little schemes, though it was no use plotting against her—Kafka was always a step ahead, always prepared to pull you back to her side and remind you of just who she was.

Blade, however, was a complete enigma to you.

You weren't very familiar with the other Hunter, having spent most of your time being lugged around by Kafka, but even the little time you spent with him had already convinced you that there was something frightening about him. You think it might be his dark eyes, seemingly seeing through your every action, which, coupled with his habit of staring at you, never failed to unnerve you. Your first encounter with him, too, left you shaking—you'd never forget the sensation of cool metal pressing against your skin, his sharp gaze locked on you with the slightest curl of his lips. You could never tell what he wanted from you.

He had smiled at you when you were tasked with wrapping new bandages around his hand shortly after his escape, and asked if you came all the way to the Xianzhou Luofu just to see him (You remember the sound of his laughter when you turned to look at Kafka in response, and you remember how something inside you stirred at the mesmerising sight). But he had yet to pull you into his arms, or smother you with affectionate words and thinly veiled threats, and you weren't quite sure what to make of him. You could only hope that his interest in you was short lived—it was tiring enough to keep Kafka placated.

"Open up, darling," Kafka's smooth voice breaks you out of your trance.

She holds a silver spoon out, a small piece of the pudding she ordered balancing carefully on it. You quickly obey, letting her feed you despite the shame that lingered when you notice Blade's curious gaze directed at you.

"Why aren't you that well behaved for me?" You freeze at Blade's remark, the dessert in your mouth suddenly tasting like sand.

Kafka chuckles, putting down the spoon in favor for placing her hand on your cheek. She gently directs you to face Blade, the man regarding you with blatant fascination.

"Why, Bladie?" Kafka's gloved fingers trace your bottom lip, "Are you jealous?"

"You're always so stiff around me," he muses, "but here you are, acting as the perfect pet for her."

"That's because we are well acquainted," you catch a wicked glint In Kafka's eyes, "It's not an act," she taps at your cheek, "is it?"

You shake your head silently, and Kafka's smile widens. Blade's displeasure is obvious in the slight frown on his face and the glare focused at where Kafka's touching you, and you start to regret picking sides.

"How cruel."

You lean back into your seat, suddenly feeling suffocated by the tense air that enveloped the table. For a moment, you swear you catch the slightest twitch of Blade's lips, but you're immediately distracted by Kafka's displeased frown.

You clear your throat in an attempt to dissipate the tension, "When will we be returning?"

"We still have matters to conclude here," Blade informs you.

Your heart sinks, but you try your hardest to hide your disappointment, "I thought we were only here for..." You glance at him, "for Blade?"

Kafka's hand had found its way to your thigh while your attention was elsewhere, her fingers splayed over your clothes, "We need to wait for the Express crew, my dear. You can be patient a little while longer, no?"

You nod, and watch as she takes a bite of the pudding for herself, the spoon in her mouth for a moment too long before she placed it down again. You turn to look outside the window instead, not wanting to meet her gaze after that display, and instead catch sight of a familiar tall figure. Around him are multiple guards in uniform, and you can already see passersby begin to whisper amongst themselves while surveying the scene. You're reminded of the posters drawn in red ink, and the fate awaiting you if you get caught. They'd want to interrogate you, wouldn't they? To your side, Kafka stands up, carefully placing her coat over her shoulders before glancing down at you with her hand outstretched. A part of you wishes you could be as composed as her by everything, but her lack of concern came from a place of confidence, in her own ability and Elios' plan. You have neither—all you can trust in is your companions. You take her hand and get up, forcing yourself to hide your growing fear. Kafka strolls out of the exit, and you follow suit, making your way out of the building and back into the streets of Starwatcher Avenue. You don't look back to see where Blade is, assuming he had disappeared into the crowd already.

As the usual protocol in situations like this, you separate from Kafka (She has insisted, before, that you never leave her side regardless of the circumstances, but you know better than to comply), and start to find your own way back to your hideout, but as you make your way down the large staircase, a hand brushes against the small of your back and a figure appears beside you. If he noticed the way you stiffened up at his touch, Blade didn't comment on it, simply falling into step with you, as though he was always there.

"This way," he instructs, moving you towards an inconspicuous alleyway between some stalls. You don't want to follow him, but with the looming threat behind you, you can't afford to attract any more attention to yourself, so you let his hand rest on you and follow his lead.

"Don't be afraid," he whispers, lips brushing against your ear, "nobody uses this path. This way, we'll have plenty of time to get...acquainted"

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

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sciderman · 3 months

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hello! so i've been a short time (feels like a long time) lurker, recent follower, of all of your spidey-pool stuff, and i adore it!!

i do have a question though: i see a lot of your more angsty posts being about how Wade and Peter can't exactly see eye to eye on what they believe love to mean, but i haven't seen a post explicitly saying what their beliefs are. so, i suppose i'm asking what exactly wade and peter's pre-conceived notions of love are?

oooh, i think wade's perception of love is something more abstract than peter's – wade – wade sort of thinks of love in terms of fairytales and hollywood pictures.

for wade, love is sort of something intangible for him. something he perpetually wants, but something he can never keep. it gets yanked away from him, every time.

i think he constantly questions whether he'll ever hold onto love. i think he likes to persuade himself that he doesn't need it, and has never felt it. can't lose what you never had in the first place.

[x]

when wade does lean into love, he makes a spectacle of it. he wants the world to know. he wants it to be THE fairytale. he wants it to be hollywood perfect. i think, maybe to placate his own self-doubt. if he gussies it up enough, maybe it can be perfect.

of course, with shiklah, wade doesn't even take his mask off during the wedding. or the honeymoon.

i think - kind of being deprived of love his whole life, he just - he doesn't really know how to authenticate his emotions. he feels terrified to expose his soft underbelly and let someone in his life know how much he needs them. he won't admit it to himself, and he won't admit it to others.

peter - conversely - has been surrounded by love his whole life. unconditional love. from aunt may - from uncle ben – from MJ and gwen – and yes, he's experienced loss - but, he knows love. real - authentic love. in fact - he feels it, so so much. all the time. he loves so deeply. and so many people. all the time. he's stand-offish at first, and it's difficult to get in, but once you're in - peter will never let you go.

i think that is what love is, to peter. it's not about flowers, or glass slippers, or whatever hollywood is peddling - what love is to peter, is longevity. loyalty. someone who'll stick by you, forever. never abandon you. no matter how imperfect.

[x]

which is - kind of, exactly what wade's looking for, but too afraid to admit to.

[x]

peter feels so much love. authentic love. messy love. unromantic love. love where, he won't say the right thing, because he doesn't have a hollywood script backing him up, but it comes from such an honest and sincere place in his heart. he's bad at romance, but his brand of love is clumsy and honest. he doesn't know how to be any other way. he tries, and fails. he can't even successfully deliver a bouquet of flowers. it's not even his fault.

and he, so, so quickly recognises how much he needs people. he's hopeless without the people he loves. and, just like wade, he's terrified of losing people. but it manifests in a different way. instead of living in denial over it, he kind of does everything he can to hold onto people. peter is clingy.

and - in contrast to wade - when peter's in love, he wants nothing more than to expose every part of himself. el nudisto. buck-ass-nude.

he wants to bear himself, so badly to the people he loves. the only thing that ever outweighs that is the fear he has of losing those people. so it's calculated risks, on his part.

i guess the biggest difference between wade and peter is always that - wade's performative to a fault - and peter's sincere to a fault. and hilarity ensues.

#ask-spiderpool

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ijwrsmff · 2 months

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My Dear Daughter-Yandere! Father-Figure Mihawk & Daughter-Figure Reader

A commission for anonymous! This is a longer one, and I'm grateful they gave me the chance to write for this prompt <3 Platonic Yanderes need love too!

Summary: Reader is a stowaway on a pirate ship, and after getting injured you find yourself a savior in the man who destroyed the ship with but a single blow. You're terrified to speak up, but he's done nothing but spoil you. It's not enough though. You want to go home. Mihawk however, now seeing you as a daughter, is doing anything to prevent it from happening.

Word Count: 5,127

Everything was going well…too well. You should have expected everything to go awry, but you had hoped it wouldn’t. The crew had found you. You were trying to hide in the storage room, escaping the dull life of your home island. But people had been reluctant to take a 17 year old to another island, claiming you’d only weigh them down. Even aside from that, the next island was a total of nine days away. So your solution? Hide on a ship when there weren’t many people tending to it.

Little did you know, it was a pirate ship. It was a lapse of judgment, and you regretted it only when they found you. Luck wasn’t on your side today, it seems. They had dragged you out, and tossed you down on the main deck. You could already feel the bruises forming, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear you felt being surrounded by all these pirates. They were looking at you in a way that you know meant you were in for a world of hurt.

One drunk was holding a sword, and made a “fake” jab towards you, but he clearly intended to slice your leg, which he did. But you refused to make a sound, even though it was severe. Your blood started to seep through to the wooden deck, and you glared at the pirates as they laughed. After that, there were several more little cuts and bruises.

Why did you have to try and leave? If you’d stayed at home, it wouldn’t have been exciting by any means…but you wouldn’t have been hurting, surrounded by who knows how many pirates. They were vile, spewing promises on the pain to come. You were probably only there a couple minutes, but it felt like years. You only hoped they reached the island soon. If they didn’t…you’d have another eight days of torture. You didn’t know if you could bear that.

Within minutes of this realization, you heard shouting coming from the crow’s nest above you. He sounded confused, but announced it to the crew and his captain. It made you curious, as his words…didn’t really make sense.

“Captain! There’s a man floating on a small raft in the water! What do you want me to do?” He leaned over and looked down at the group, his eyes lingering on you momentarily before returning to his place in the crow’s nest.

“Raft? What’s on it?” The captain called back to him, not sounding too concerned. If anything, he seemed to smirk in place and call back, “Someone shoot him down.” He turned back to you and grabbed your shirt collar, pulling you close to his face with a look that could only be described as sinister. “Hey little girl…you wanna see what happens to people who bother pirates? If you don’t listen, it’ll be you next.”

His breath reeked of alcohol, and it made you flinch back. When he mentioned shooting down the man, your eyes widened. Was he about to kill the man? If he was on a raft, he might even need help! “W-Wait! Don’t kill him! If he’s just on a raft he doesn’t have anything valuable, what could you possibly get from kill-” But the words were cut off when the captain yelled in your face.

“WHY? WHY am I doing this?” He cackled, and the crew joined in. “Because we’re pirates. Why SHOULDN’T we send a message? It’s a message for you, don’t you feel special?” He turned to a couple crew members and nodded to the cannons with his head. “Don’t miss. There’s no warning shots this time.” He grabbed you by the back of the neck and dragged you to the side of the ship, so you could see the spectacle about to happen.

As the crew loaded the cannons and got ready to fire, the captain tilted his head slightly. “Wait…” the gears in his head were turning, and as the small raft got closer he began to shake in fear. “WAIT! MEN DON’T SHOOT-” He sounded frantic, and continued, “WE HAVE TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” He let go of you, clearly not concerned with you right now. Whoever that man was, even this group of pirates were terrified of him.

You leaned towards the ledge, and considered jumping over and begging the man on the raft to get YOU out of here. Staying with these pirates was dangerous, maybe he was with the marines? Why else would these pirates be so terrified? It wasn’t a great option, but neither was staying with these pirates. But you didn’t have much time to debate.

The man stood on the small raft, and pulled up a sword bigger than any you’d ever seen. It was shaped like a cross, and it hit you. This was Dracule Mihawk. One of the seven warlords of the sea. Meaning he was a pirate, just like them. But what if he thought you were one of them, he surely wouldn’t kill someone innocent when working for the government…right?

You waved your arms at him, hoping he’d get the message. But he had already swung his sword. Within half a second, the boat was split in half. You stumbled, and tried to gain your bearings, but with your injuries it proved to be a more difficult task than you imagined. Falling several meters into the ocean as it churned was terrifying, and you struggled to swim back to the surface. But with all the debris falling…you knew. You were going to drown here.

You were near passing out, and you couldn’t hold your breath anymore…until a hand reached down and pulled you up. As you coughed, placed on a solid surface you looked up and saw the gaze of Mihawk. His eyes were piercing, and it was as if he was looking straight through you. It took everything in you to not cower under that look. He was much taller than you, and his sword was resting behind the makeshift seat.

“Are you alright?” He asked, though his eyes were glancing over your body, taking in the injuries you had. You had no idea what he was thinking, his face was completely blank, and his voice monotone. “Allow me.” He said and reached down to help you up.

You swayed, and all but fell into his arms. The raft didn’t rock much, but you could still feel the movement of the waves under your feet. He placed a firm hand on your upper arm and kept you steady. “What…are you doing? Why did you save me?” Was all you could get out. You tried to scour his face for any traces of emotion, but found none. Aside from a brief second of softness in his eyes, though it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You needed help. I’m providing that.” He carefully moved you to set you on the only seat on the small raft. He knelt down and looked at you. Even when you were sitting on the small chair, he was bigger than you as he rested on one knee. His tone was ‘matter-of-fact’ and you were reeling your mind trying to think of what he was thinking.

“Uh…okay…” You couldn’t find any other words. Help was needed, and if he was willing to provide that…it shouldn’t be too bad? You were bleeding more and more by the second, and the sea salt in those wounds were only aggravating them. It honestly made you feel as if you’d pass out. Your eyes continued to flutter shut, but the fear of being alone in the vast sea with a warlord kept you fighting.

“Don’t worry…you’ll be able to rest soon.” He tore off small strips of his clothing and wrapped it around the larger wounds, and opened the water bottle he had in an attempt to clean those wounds. He moved swiftly but carefully, as the raft floated further and further from the remains of the shipwreck.

Once he was finished, you were practically asleep. He took the moment to look you over in curiosity. There was a small tug at his heartstrings, it was small…but still there. He could bring you to the nearest island, but a large part of him wanted to continue to check on you. Make sure you’re recovering well. It was a brief moment of hesitation, before he started moving the raft to his island. Once you were healed completely, he would bring you back to your island or one of your choosing. That’s what he told himself at least.

Once you were asleep, he gently lifted you, and sat down on the seat. He cradled you to him, with one arm under your back and the other your knees. Your fears and worries of the events must have scared you terribly, he concluded. You softly cried in your sleep, as you unknowingly nuzzled your face into his neck. All Mihawk could do was hold you closer, as he whispered “You’re safe, now.” Over and over again until the tears stopped.

You ended up stirring awake not long later. Your eyes opened before you moved anything, and you instantly shot up, only to be held down with arms much stronger than yours. The first thing you wanted to see after passing out, traumatized for life, was…well not this. Mihawk’s practically glowing yellow eyes staring down at you. You were in his lap, being held like a damn princess. He had no shame, either. When you caught him staring he had the audacity to maintain that eye contact.

“Uh…I can get up now?” You wished you were shaking less, but you were being coddled by a warlord. “You can drop me off at the nearest island, so you should…do that.” It came out a lot less assertive than you meant for it to, but you didn’t want to walk on eggshells. If he wanted, he could throw you into the ocean never to be seen again. Or even worse, cut you down, himself. If he can slice an entire ship in half without even trying…you didn’t want to think about what he could do to you.

“No.” It was so matter-of-fact that it caught you completely off guard. He continued to look at you, analyzing everything on your face. “Your wounds need to heal, my island is closest.” It was a lie, but you had no way of knowing that. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he lied. He gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, but it came across as a warning.

“Okay…?” You were beyond confused at this point, and his short responses weren’t helping that. It just made it so much worse. But you were terrified, despite trying to appear as if you weren’t. So you settled as much as you could, and tried to put as much distance as possible while still being secured in his lap. Whatever his plan here was, he sure wasn’t going to talk about it. You tried to take the initiative, and said a small “Thank you for saving me.”

It was all he needed to hear, and he looked a bit surprised. It wasn’t much, just a slight twitch in his eyebrows at most, and his eyes got just slightly wider. But he did his best to try and give a small. He wasn’t used to it, but he could see how scared you were. The smile was forced, but his eyes continued to not reveal anything. Maybe a small trace of contentment? You didn’t know him enough to be able to tell.

Arriving at the island took at least another hour past that, but being out in the middle of the ocean made it hard to tell exactly what time it was. As the raft hit the shore line, you went to stand up and get off him, but he effortlessly kept you in place. “What? I can walk, you know!” Another attempt to get out of his grasp, was futile at best. You looked up at him with the best glare you could manage but it looked as shaky as you felt.

“Not safely.” He shifted you a bit, carrying you with a single arm as he poked your ankle. It made you hiss, and he lifted an eyebrow in a ‘see?’ display. “You’re injured, I’m simply helping you.” He then shifted you a bit more to try and get you comfortable but it jostled you enough you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck with a small noise of protest. Your face was buried in his neck as you tried not to fall.

If you could have seen his face, it would have been the biggest reaction you’d seen of him yet. His eyes were wide, and he paused for a moment, before giving a much more genuine smile. You reminded him of a child. He wasn’t sure exactly how old you were, but he would get to know. He cradled you with both arms, trying to return his facial expression to neutral. “Shh…it’s okay. I’d never drop you. You’re safe.” Even the tone had a twinge on sincerity.

You gulped, and did everything you could to not fight against his grasp. It was difficult, you weren’t used to this kind of treatment anymore. It had been a long time since someone carried you like this…maybe you could indulge just this once. Besides, he made a point. Your ankle wasn’t in the best condition. You shuddered thinking about how bad it could be. If it hurt that bad from just a poke, what if you needed a real doctor? What if it got infected?

Though Mihawk wasn’t great at empathizing, he could tell you were panicking. He shushed you softly, and carefully brought you to a spare room in his home. It was fully furnished, with anything you’d reasonably need. Even some things you didn’t NEED but could want. He spoke to you softly, and it was giving you whiplash. The warlord who can end a person’s life with just a glance was treating you with kindness and even being accommodating. It was confusing you beyond measure.

“Your house is huge…” Was the first thing you mumbled back at him as he eased the door closed with his foot. He walked over to the bed, and rested you on it. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of it, but when you were resting on the bed you couldn’t help it. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on in my life!” You let out a small giggle and got comfortable as you could with your injuries. “Is it…really okay if I stay here? I don’t wanna cause any trouble! The second I’m feeling better I promise I’ll get out of your hair!” You had realized you’d been a little too giddy, and didn’t want him to feel as if you were milking your injury.

But he did give a rather large smile. Large smile for him at least. In response to your giggling, he let out a low chuckle. Hearing it was somewhat soothing, and the look in his eyes was something close to adoration. You think. It was so hard to tell with him…but regardless, he replied. “You can stay here as long as you’d like. As for the bed, it’s yours if you’d like it. I can always get you a new and better one. Money is no issue.” He pulled the chair from the desk over to where you laid on the bed, and took a glance at the small amounts of blood seeping through the makeshift bandage he’d given.

He hummed, and walked to the bathroom, only to return with a first aid kit. “I’ll check them over, and then I can give you a better estimate on when you’ll be safe to walk again.” He slowly unwrapped each of the bandages, and worked slowly and carefully so as to not hurt you. He hummed a couple times, and you’d look between him and the injury.

“What? ‘Hm’ what?” You got anxious, he was staring so intently at the bleeding. “Is it bad? What does ‘hm’ mean!?” It was getting hard to stay still, and when you tried to pull your leg away, he grabbed an uninjured part of it and kept it secured in place.

“Be careful…a couple of these are going to need stitches. Which means no walking for around four weeks or so I’d say.” He looked at you a bit sympathetically, and pulled out the needle prepared to give you the stitches needed. “I apologize…it will hurt a bit, but I’ll make it as painless as possible. I promise.” The look in his eyes held some deeper meaning, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

“Four whole weeks…of not walking…? Shit…I’m not going to burden or bother you or anything, right? I mean, not even just you but also. Wait, how many people live here?” You shifted a bit, and winced at the movement from your ankle. “And I’m bleeding on your bed sheets! I’m sorry! Just a few stitches and then I can go to a different island, I can see a doctor, It’ll-” He cut you off promptly with a look and short phrase.

“You’re staying. I can help you, here. If you need to go anywhere in the mansion, I can carry you until you’re better enough to walk with me as a crutch.” His tone wasn’t quite harsh, but assertive. He addressed your question next, “As for how many live here. Just…two.” It seemed like he came to a conclusion of some kind, and smiled a bit to himself before smiling at you. “It’s safe here. No one should dare harm you under my care.”

Rather it be for better or for worse, he had decided. You’d be staying with him indefinitely. You would come to realize that in time, but for the moment you were clueless. Simply settled on bed rest for a few weeks, you fell back asleep immediately following getting stitches. It really was a comfy bed, it’d be easier to have bed rest in this kind of comfort. If Mihawk seemed sure no one would hurt you…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? He was a warlord afterall, so you doubted many would even do so much as attempt to harm you.

You thought it would be easy, you really did. But he hardly ever left you alone! It was somewhat expected the first day or two, but a three and a half weeks? Of just laying in bed without being able to even stand up and walk? It was suffocating! He had asked a million questions, about everything to do with you. He didn’t even ask about your family, your friends, did he not care? He seemed content to have you talk about yourself though. Your responses were getting shorter, and he definitely noticed, but didn’t say much of anything about it. Simply continued with the small talk and questions.

“Do you have a favorite restaurant back on your home island?” He’d ask.

“Not really.”

“Did you have any childhood pets?”

“A couple.”

“Is there a dream job you have?”

“Haven’t decided.”

“What island have you heard of that you want to visit?”

You reached your breaking point. So many questions, and even when you slept! He’d be in that chair in the corner most of the time. You didn’t know what his endgame here was, but you were sick of being grilled about anything and everything. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP WITH THE QUESTIONS?” A glare was sent his way from you, but it faltered significantly when it was met with a glare right back at you. It wasn’t much, but it was the most anger you’d seen from him.

“I’ll give you some space.” His expression was neutral once more, and he stood to leave, only to stop in the doorway. He seemed to hesitate there, and he turned back to partially face you. “I expect an apology for your tone. Screaming at me gets you nowhere.” He turned back but ended up deciding to say one more thing before fully leaving. It was a softer tone, as he said “I don’t wish for you to scream at me, I despise it so.” Before leaving the room entirely.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Did you…really just scream at a warlord? He took you into his home, cared for you, tended to you, and even carried you to the dining table for three meals a day! You watched him cook for you numerous times, but you still yelled at him? It’s not like he did anything wrong…he just wanted to get to know you. That’s all…right? You flopped over in the bed, and pulled the covers over your head. Beating yourself up won’t solve anything, but maybe some sleep would.

You woke up not long after, extremely confused. The injury on your ankle…it wasn’t hurting. A little bit maybe, but not bad at all. What made you notice it, was your other foot had found a spot on top of the injured one in your sleep. It made you giddy beyond reason, thinking maybe it was almost completely better, and you could finally walk around! Maybe then you could go back to your home island, you missed everyone…and you were sure they were worried. You had been talking about running off to another island, so it might not be surprising you disappeared for a while, but you hadn’t even been able to write to them.

Placing your good foot on the ground gently, you took a few deep breaths and placed the other one on the ground. You were bracing yourself, getting ready to stand up. It had been a whole week and a half, but if you bursted the stitches open it would be so much worse. Mihawk might get pissed at you…and you valued your life. He’s been kind for the most part, overly kind in fact, but he seemed focused on your progress in getting better. Putting a set back on that might make him explode and you didn’t want that. At all.

You swayed between all the options, before taking one more deep breath and putting weight slowly on your ankles, being sure to favor the good one the most first. When that was fine, you put a little more on the other foot. After a bit, you were able to stand evenly on them both. You wanted to jump in joy, but you weren’t about to push the boundaries. After the little snap at Mihawk, you decided the best course of action would be to leave and head back to your island while he was gone. You’d overstayed your welcome, and now that you could somewhat walk again, it was time to go.

It took a bit of practice to walk around the room, but you figured you’d rather start off with some small pacing, before making the long trek from the mansion to the shore. It wasn’t long into your pacing when you heard a knock at your door. Shit…so leaving without a trace wasn’t an option. But you were excited, you’d get to see everyone again. Maybe he’d show you where the rafts and boats were!

“Darling? Are you alright?” He called, his tone laced with worry. “May I come in? We need to have a discussion.” Those words made you hesitate a bit, it sounded serious. Maybe he knew you were feeling better, and decided to talk to you about returning home? It was all you could hope for. There were certainly much worse possibilities running through your mind.

“Sure…” You were curious, but ended up continuing to pace even as he entered the room. “Look! I’m feeling so much better!” You made a demonstration of walking around the room. When you looked back at him, he looked conflicted. Like he also had many possibilities running through his head. It stopped you in your tracks, and you wanted to walk closer, but hesitated.

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’re recovering well.” He turned to the side and came in with a tray. It had a few different kinds of food on it. “You never specified your favorite restaurant, so I attempted a few different types of food.” He walked to your bedside table and set it down. “Come eat. We can discuss a few things.” He said as he sat on the foot of the bed, before patting your spot to signal you to sit again.

“I actually…wanted to ask you something.” You said hesitantly, and followed the instructions to sit by the bedside table. When you didn’t touch the food, he knew something was wrong. “Would I be able to have a small boat? Or a raft even! I could make my way back home, I’ve been here for so long now at this point…It’s time for me to go home. But thank you! For everything. You didn’t have to save me but you did and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You fidgeted with your hands, and avoided looking directly at him. While he’d been soft and kind to you, his power and authority still caused anxieties of what could happen.

“Darling…” He scooted a bit closer and urged you to look at him. “You ARE home. You’re to live here, with me. I’ve given you anything you’ve wanted, why would you want to leave?” The word ‘me’ hangs in the air at the end of the sentence as he hesitated before saying the next sentence. “Have I done something wrong? Whatever it may be, I can do my best to fix it.”

“No! There’s nothing you’ve done wrong, but I can’t just live here with you! I have friends I need to see, and my mom and dad-” That word shouldn’t have made him react that way…but it did. It made your sentence cut off on its own. His eyes were glowing more than usual, and his face was contorted with anger. He looked away and seemed to struggle with his own words as they came out.

“I’m your father. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t known you since your birth, I care for you greatly. All of our conversations, I know I can be a better father to you than whatever the ‘man’ before me ever was.” He was getting closer now, and you were trying to retreat but he wasn’t having it. He looked over your face, and still saw fear. “Don’t worry, I know it must be confusing for you.” He chuckled a bit, but it was far from comforting as it was the first you’d heard it.

“You don’t have to be ready to call me your father right now, but we’ll get there. As for your friends, I can find new ones for you. I will make sure they’re safe people.” He waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I would give you anything, darling…so I do hope you’ll be able to forgive me for keeping you here. You mean too much to me for me to let you go. If I were to do so, you could get hurt. Emotionally, mentally…and even physically. Those pirates deserved a fate much worse than I gave them.”

“You’ll give me anything? THEN GIVE ME A BOAT TO GET OUT OF HERE! DON’T JUST ACT LIKE YOU CAN REPLACE EVERYTHING I HAD!” You were pissed, but this time you wouldn’t back down. Your anxieties and fears wanted you to, but Mihawk was saying you’d never get to see them again! As if people were replaceable! You leaned forward as you yelled and got closer to him, you flung the blankets off and tried to walk towards the door. “IF YOU WON’T GIVE ME THAT THEN I’LL FIGURE OUT HOW TO LEAVE, MYSELF!”

You heard a sigh behind you, and as you went to open the door he was already next to it, shutting it and preventing you from leaving. His speed was much faster than yours, and you already knew well that his strength was too. You took a step back, and became fearful of his expression. It wasn’t angry, in fact it was back to the blank and neutral expression he had when you first met him. He’d put up the walls he’d slowly been taking down.

He reached forward, and you flinched but he also wasn’t giving in this time. He placed a finger under your chin and tilted it so you looked at him directly. “Look at me, please?” He held your head there until your eyes met his. “There she is…my dear daughter.” He sighed, and when you opened your mouth to yell at him again, he sighed once more. “Please stop screaming at me, love. You know I hate it.” He grabbed your arms and moved you carefully, but firmly back to the bed.

“YOU CAN’T-” But his neutral expression was scaring you more, and you found yourself unable to finish the sentence. There was so much you wanted to scream at him, the overflowing emotion was building up so much that tears started to fall down your face. “I’m not your daughter…” Was all you could spat at him angrily as he forced you further into the room. No matter how much you thrashed, you couldn’t hurt him. And he knew that. You both did. But you had to try…

“You are. I know you are. I knew the moment I saw you. Take your time, love. You can call for me when you need me, but for now I think you need to learn a lesson.” He spoke softly at first, before his tone became much more firm. You really…really didn’t want to know what he meant. But it became clear in the seconds following.

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, before the door seemed to open and close instantly. He was gone. You should have known it’d be locked, but what you didn’t expect was just how sturdy the door was. When you banged on it, screaming for him to let you out, it didn’t budge in the slightest. Not even a small tremor from the strengths of your blow. That bastard must have planned this…was this his plan all along?

Only time would tell, but no matter how many times you had to do it…you’d try to escape. He can’t keep you here forever. He can’t…and he won’t. You’re resolved, knowing you’d go to further and further lengths to get out of here. You would return home…to your real home…no matter the cost.

#reader insert #platonic! yandere! mihawk #yandere one piece & reader #& reader #fem reader #commission #writing commission #tw; injury #tw; switches

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inf1nyxw0rlds · 1 month

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reposting my infinite is not weak essay because i got anxious and deleted the last one <3 i've been meaning to do this for months, but i'm not exactly the most functional person and i don't often put myself out there. in the process of rewriting it, i also altered the wording and added a few things, as you might notice if you've seen it before; and if you haven't, then welcome to whatever it is i'm doing here!

this is written with all my love, all my frustration, fueled by years worth of listening to a cycle of minsinformation that left permanent damage in the form of skewed perceptions – based in a false claim and the jokes that came with it – and a hesistance on sega's part to even address him save for a few tossed crumbs over the span of the last half a decade. originally i had an elaborate metaphor here, but there was no need for it and i'll cut right to the chase; there has always been good in infinite's character – but not everyone cares to look for it.

it's been six years since the release of sonic forces. which is insane! it's wild to me! as somebody who's been here since before the game even released, i've seen it all. to commemorate the occassion, when i wrote this originally, i thought that i would talk further about infinite's reception; in particular, the Weak thing. i've discussed it before in brief, and you can read that one here; this time though, i'm going to get more into dissecting the actual problem, and debunking arguments that supposedly prove infinite to be objectively weak and pathetic... when canonically, that isn't the case. i'd actually argue the opposite, but at the very least he isn't lacking strength – his skills are average at worst.

the first reason that i see, the one we're all plenty familiar with and the one i brought up previously, is that infinite is weak because he lost to shadow. once. that's it. do i really have to explain why this is stupid? yeah, he did lose, one time. even against a normal opponent, one defeat in comparison to what we can assume, based on his title, many victories, isn't much of an indicator toward being weak. shadow is also the ultimate lifeform, in case anyone has forgotten that detail, and bear in mind that infinite knows shadow to have just slaughtered his entire team – do you really think he would be at his best in that state?

there's also a fuckton of context clues implying that infinite had issues prior to this encounter, specifically inferiority issues. shadow literally told him, after having wiped his whole team out, to never show his pathetic face again. the face with the, you know. the big scar. the blind eye. (shoutout to the person who pointed this out in the tags in the "first part" of this, by the way! based for that)

this argument is so full of holes that it just drives me kind of bonkers how it can be used to claim infinite is weak and stupid. do i think that the scene is without flaw? of course not. if you want to say that the way they handled his breakdown wasn't the greatest, you can, you have every right to your opinion. but that's just it. we're talking about something else. i get it, the "i am not weak" was a memeable line, but it doesn't actually make him weak. people that reduce his reaction to "just" hating shadow because he got his ass beat, people who call it a "temper tantrum", i ... the context is right there. it was never "just" because shadow beat him up. would people say this about anyone else that shadow happens to beat up? that they're irrefutably weak? no. that's stupid. obviously. so why infinite? because it wasn't a strong enough spectacle. let me illustrate this more with another example;

another reason people say that infinite is weak is because sonic didn't need to go super in order to beat him. and... again, this one, too, falls apart pretty easily. sonic has beaten other characters without going super, and this includes shadow. the difference is the when, the how, the context. it's not that infinite is weak, but it was a weak final boss fight. do you get what i mean?

forces, in general, suffered a lot with this problem. it wasn't a problem that was exclusive to infinite. unfortunately, as the new character, he got the most heat. there was a huge amount of hype for him, so when the spectacle fell short, people were pissed. and i get it. but then that issue became, "infinite bad". that issue became "infinite's weak". it has never been that, though. this is why i personally hate weak jokes – because they're rooted in non-issue and misinfo.

a point i saw made once was that the characterisation of sonic and the rest of the cast are part of what made infinite's character hard to take seriously, and i'd agree! infinite actually fits the setting quite well; he has a mysterious, serious presence. he's harsh, he's edgy, but it's cheesy enough that it works in the typical style of the sonic franchise. the problem is, when the other characters aren't taking things seriously, it throws the whole thing off. we're being told this is a hard-hitting, high stakes plot, but how can we see it that way, when they're all just cracking jokes?

as a side-tangent of sorts, you know what's real funny? infinite's backstory, the one thing people use more than anything else to declare his obvious weakness, quite likely wasn't originally going to exist anyway, and he was instead going to be made by eggman. i say "quite likely" as, as i've stated, i don't like misinformation, and sega will probably never confirm this one-hundred percent, but this is something fans – myself included – have discussed a few times.

first, there's the odd dialogue and enviroment in stage 29. tails states outright, as you go through the fortress, where containment/test tubes line the walls in countless numbers, "so this is where eggman built infinite". the tubes do, in fact, appear to have low-res bodies inside them. this is also something they detailed in an early version of the script. infinite's remark on sonic's "data" also fits in with this idea of him being some form of android. prior to release, there was also a cryptic message that, when decoded, referred to infinite as "the fated son of daedalus"; in other words, icarus, who flew too close to the sun; his father being an inventor! that's really dope foreshadowing.

you can argue that tails and amy's commentary is speculation rather than solid fact and that they're mistaken, it's a possibility i definitely consider here, but given how rushed the dlc and prequel comics feel, the fact that there was a statement that big changes were made late into development... yeah. i'll buy it. i often find myself wondering what people would think of infinite had this been his story, whether they would view him differently. also, speaking of the dlc being rushed, there are actually unused lines for episode shadow implying that you would have fought the jackal squad; they were likely just unable to implement it in time. it's a shame, as it would have added to that spectacle factor i mentioned. but hey, gotta push for that holiday release!

what i find really interesting is that you can look at his character through either lense: the former mercenary turned war criminal, or the creation of our ol' doctor, and he still reads well! his behaviour makes sense in whichever context you choose to apply; what he thought he had to become, versus what he was made to be. it's cool and it makes me a bit insane. a lot of people criticise infinite for his one-dimensionality, but in my opinion, like... it's the point. he's meant to feel hollow. because he's masking; or because he wasn't made for feelings, but rather for destruction.

something that seems ironic is that many people attempt to "fix" him by... putting him into a box and inflating a single trait into his entire character and calling it "better writing". now, here's the disclaimer, okay: i'm all for people having fun and being proud of their work! i don't think that we should police what others can create. this is just about the phenomenon of watering a character down or changing them to fit ships and narratives rather than those characters being what shape the direction the story and their relationships take, things like that; which... i mean, i'm not a cop, you can still do these things even if i don't like them! i'm not saying it isn't allowed, but i think that you're kind of missing the point.

he never needed fixing. his story needed refinement. that's different. it's more about exploring what we've been given, looking below the surface; infinite is not just an evil, ruthless tyrant that deserves death nor a traumatised sadboy to be made good by the power of love and friendship – not to me. his trauma and anger are both part of him, and you cannot – or rather shouldn't – reduce him to one thing or another. it does him a major disservice, i think. there are good things there, things you can dissect, you just have to be willing to look.

in choosing to ignore what made him who he is, disregarding the loss of his squad and blatant insecurity unless it's funny, you're purposely looking at him through a faulty lense. bad writing doesn't mean that the intent isn't there. context is so important, and you can't analyse him or critique him with worth unless these things are acknowledged. it's like if you were eating a cake, avoiding the frosting and complaining it's not sweet enough. the frosting is there, not even being withheld from you. it has always been there. you decided not to eat it. sorry i'm making weird analogies again but hopefully this makes sense.

this has gotten long, wow. the point i want to highlight, overall, is that infinite is not nearly as awful as people make him out to be. it was never about his strength, it was about the limits and shortcomings of the narrative, a problem not exclusive to him yet one that has been pinned on him for so many years. i don't want it to sound like i'm saying he is immune to criticism, or that forces is, even though i've criticised forces during the creation of this post (and don't think that i think forces is terrible, either! it's my favourite game and i have lots of things i like about it as well! i've just been drawing attention to these parts to better explain what i want to convey lol); but i do hate how the wrong thing is being criticised.

this issue has been watered down into "infinite weak" when it's way more broad, way more complex than that, and i cannot stand it. it seems like such a trivial matter, like, oh, fandom is being mean about my favourite guy, but it did actual damage and forever altered people's perception of him. i am pissed about it! i'm mad! i don't care if you don't like infinite (because i can just block you as we will not get along!) but... it's about why people don't like him. they don't have to justify it, they can continue hating him, but it always bothered me that the reason is so often not a real problem. yeah.

okay, i think that's it. thank you for taking the time to read this, and if you made it this far, you're gay

#transmission #infinite tag #infinite the jackal #long post

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lesbianrobin · 1 year

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lesbianrobin fic scraps #1: kaleidoscope

(the first in what may or may not be a series of abandoned WIPs that i share because maybe someone will still enjoy them or get inspired <3 no context baby figure it out)

"Are you, like, really itchy too, or is that just me?"

Robin squirms as she sips at her Coke, kicking her legs lazily back and forth as they lounge on the food court countertop.

Steve has been feeling a lot of shit in the past few hours, so it hadn't really registered among the various throbbing pains and stabbing pains and warm, sticky blood, but now that Robin mentions it he's suddenly terribly itchy. "Yeah, actually. Think it's the drugs?"

"Or forty-eight hours of sweating in polyester."

Steve frowns. "I have an undershirt. Don't you have an undershirt?"

Robin furrows her brow. "Why would I have an undershirt?"

"Because of the polyester."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, it didn't do you much good, did it? We're both itchy."

Robin suddenly goes still, eyes widening. She turns away from the spectacle of their ragtag band of nerds preparing for battle to look Steve in the eye.

"Steve," she says.

"...Yeah?"

She smiles, and fuck, Steve loves her smile. He can love her smile as a friend, right? It's not weird. He loves Dustin's smile, too.

Her eyes have a manic energy. "We're both itchy."

Oh. Oh, holy shit.

"Oh, holy shit," Steve says.

His brain isn't working too quickly right now. Sue him.

"Where's yours?"

"On my back," and Robin's yanking his shirt up.

"Turn around, turn around, oh my god," she urges, trails her ice-cold fingers across his skin, and they gasp in unison.

"Holy shit," Robin whispers.

"How's it look?"

"I…" Her voice wobbles. "Well, I can't be sure, because I think some of it's bruising, but, uh…"

Jesus, her hands are cold. From the can of Coke, he figures. If only she'd press her freezing fingers to the worst of his aches. As it is, she only grazes over his skin, maybe afraid of hurting him, maybe afraid of touching him so intimately.

"It's a little bit of everything," Robin says, "It's… It's your whole back, Steve, like, even…" She tugs his shirt up higher, until it's all bunched around his neck, and Steve slips his arms out of the sleeves and lets the ruined sailor shirt hang around his neck like a scarf.

"Even your shoulders."

Robin's less afraid here. She presses her hand against his right shoulder blade, and the itching sensation ceases at her touch.

"But, shit, you should probably see, like, a real doctor if the flesh monster doesn't get us, because you're so bruised up. Shit, look at mine, though, what's mine?"

They shuffle awkwardly atop the counter, Steve unable to hold back an embarrassing groan at the ache in his abdomen. Robin is already pulling her own shirt up, almost off of her head, and Steve can see her bra (and it's just that plain tan color, no cute patterns or anything, but the sight of it makes Steve feel warm somehow, like when he first saw Nancy's teddy bear or Dustin's little collection of oddly-shaped dice), so he reaches out and grabs at Robin's shirt before she can yank it off entirely, pulling it down to cover her chest.

"Jesus Christ, Rob, there's thirteen year old boys here. And that creepy guy in the tank top."

"Right, sorry," she laughs, "That's, like, unfair, though."

Steve shrugs. "I mean, you can take it off if you want, but I figured I'd remind you."

"No, yeah, you're right." She pulls her legs up and crosses them, turning her back to Steve. "Here, you do it, I'll hold the front down."

He pushes her shirt up slowly.

Even with only an inch of skin showing above her shorts, Steve sees the colors. Each inch of skin reveals a dozen new shades, and Steve can't help pushing her shirt up as high as he can, because the colors spread from her hips up to her shoulders, and it's like…

"What is it?"

"...It's a little bit of everything," he settles on.

"We match," Robin breathes, and Steve should let her put her shirt down now, but he keeps the polyester bunched up by her shoulders, because he's never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"I didn't know they could be like this."

Steve has never been artistic. He took art classes all through elementary school, though, and he took Beginner Art freshman year as an elective because he figured it would be an easy A, and he could barely draw a straight line, but he loved the watercolors because they let him dream about soulmarks. His favorite thing was just letting little droplets of different colors fall from his brush to his paper and watching how they'd seep across the blank surface, eventually meeting one another and mixing to create dark purples and greens and, quite often, browns, but he never had any colors of his own, and he liked to look at the paper and dream about how those colors might one day stain his skin forever. When their teacher let them do whatever they wanted, he'd always make some watercolor mess in the corner while the artsy kids did real work.

Robin's skin is the most incredible watercolor mess he's ever seen. Deep reds seep out from her right shoulder, blending into purples and oranges and pinks and a warm, earthy brown between her shoulder blades. Her left shoulder is a bit bruised, he thinks, or it's just dark blue and black and purple seeping into every color of the rainbow plus a dozen more moving down, a streak of brilliant pink that nearly dips below her waistband and a pool of various blues, turquoises, periwinkles, every beautiful color he's ever seen wrapped in deep green ribbons and Jesus, it's fucking incredible. There's a few spots of that same earthy brown scattered across her back, like specks of dirt, or maybe freckles and moles. Maybe those were there before. It doesn't really matter.

He lets his fingers trace one of the ribbons. Robin lets out a hysterical laugh. "I think we might be, like, the most soul connected people ever in the world."

Steve snorts, but he can't bring himself to disagree. He's never seen anything like this before, not even in the most dramatic romantic movies, not even in his wildest dreams.

"Everybody else should just get drugged together too, I guess." It's probably rude, but Steve asks, "Can I move your bra a little to see?"

"Yeah, go for it."

He slips a finger under the band of her bra and lifts it up to see what colors are underneath. There's golden yellow, bright sparks of pure white. He's never felt so warm in his life.

"Never thought I'd have a boy taking my bra off."

He removes his finger and lets the band down, but he snaps her right bra strap against her skin because he can do that now.

"Ow! Asshole."

"I wasn't taking it off, you jerk." Steve gently tugs her shirt down and pats her shoulder. "Sorry. It was really pretty under there. Like white fireworks."

Robin spins around with a big smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "Let me look at yours again."

She shoves his shirt up just as urgently and her fingers trace some unseen pattern near the center of his back.

"Like here?"

Before Steve's painfully slow brain can figure out what she's asking, someone clears their throat.

Steve turns to find Dustin with a smug grin on his face. "Super happy for you guys, but we have a plan."

#em talks #lesbianrobin.ficscraps #long post

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koraidonfrompokemon · 1 year

Note

Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

I was wondering if I could request a Giacomo x Reader where the reader admires him but is too shy and nervous to talk to him

Hello! Thank you so much for being my first person to write something for! I had a lot of fun writing this and hopefully our boy isn’t too ooc. Reminder that my writing and headcanon requests are open!!!

Tw for bullying, mentions of blood, cursing

You had admired Giacomo and his gang for a while now.

Seeing how he specialized in dark types made you hopeful. You’d always wanted to use them. Studying and learning all about them. People told you they were too dangerous to tame. You didn’t listen though.

One day, you were hanging out in the schoolyard with your partner pokemon. A Houndour the school had given you. You are a quiet and reserved kid. No one really bothered you and your partner pokemon kept it that way. Always chasing off anyone who got too close. You didn’t mind it though. Gave you a reason not to talk to anyone.

When you saw Giacomo though, that all changed. He was charming in his own weird way. Always trying to get others to listen to his music and making remixes of the school’s theme. The teachers didn’t like him all that much nor did many of the students. A small gang of rebellious students followed him around though. Always cheering him on and standing up for him.

You sometimes wished you were brave enough to do something so rebellious. At least be able to stand up for yourself and others. You weren’t though. So you watched them from afar. Always wanting to approach him and talk. That faithful day came though. The day where Giacomo approached you.

Some of the students liked to bully you. Always calling you names and teasing you for being quiet. Occasionally they’d make fun of you for wanting to be a dark-type specialist. Saying that the pokemon you wanted to tame would kill you. Including the harmless Houndour you loved. They never got physical though. At least until recently.

You had been sitting in the schoolyard on a bench in a corner. Eating lunch with your pokemon. Suddenly you were pushed over. Landing face first onto the hard ground. As you tried to get your bearings, your pokemon growled and snapped at the bullies.

“Aww would you look at that,” they taunted. “The dangerous pokemon is trying to protect his freak of an owner.”

You pulled your Houndour closer. Ignoring the pain you felt from falling on your nose.

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” you told them.

They just laughed.

“All dark types are killers. That thing is just waiting for the right moment to snap.”

Some students had appeared. Watching you and your bullies. You didn’t have the guts to stand up for yourself though. Especially not in front of all of these people. So you just held onto your Houndour. Praying that they’d leave you alone. A familiar voice broke through the laughter.

“Hey! Leave them alone!”

Looking up from your pokemon, you saw a guy approach. Wearing a black coat with a yellow vest underneath. Headphones perched around his neck and computer in hand. He was pointing toward your bullies with a pokeball in hand.

“Oh great it’s Giacomo,” one of the bullies said. “What do you want freak?”

“Nothing much,” Giacomo said with a smirk. “Just going to lay down some sick beats on you.”

He then threw out his Pawniard. The pokemon charged the bullies with a flash of its blades. Unlike the mean and uncaring attitude they put on while bullying you, they screamed like little girls and scrambled out of the way. Tripping over each other in an attempt to not get cut. The Pawniard did not have a single look of malice as it chirped. Continuing to chase them around with a smile. You couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle before you. Giacomo was chuckling too. Finally, the bullies scrambled for the stairwell. Giacomo’s Pawniard gave them one last flash of its blades before running back to its trainer.

“I’m telling Clavell what you did!”

Giacomo laughed.

“Tell him I said hello!”

The bullies then disappeared down the stairwell. The few students that were watching also laughed. They soon dispersed though as Giacomo gave them a glare. Taking it as a warning. Giacomo then approached you. Holding out a tissue.

“Hey, you’re bleeding. That’s not cool.”

Touching underneath your nose, sure enough, you were bleeding.

“Ah, thank you…”

You then put the tissue to your nose. He held out a hand to you. At first, you thought your Houndour would growl at him. She didn’t though. Just casually sniffing him. You took his hand and he helped you up. Making sure you didn’t fall over due to blood loss.

As you stood next to him, you realized what had just happened. Giacomo, your idol, had saved you from some bullies. A blush came to your face.

“You okay?”

“Y…yeah! Totally peachy! Haha!”

He didn’t seem to notice your blush.

“I should teach them a better lesson. Hey, at least you’re okay.”

You just nodded.

“Yeah…”

Your Houndour then jumped up on his leg. Startling him a bit.

“Oh?” He asked as he bent down to pet her with his free hand. “Who is this cutie?”

Damn her for making you talk more to him.

“Uh, she’s my Houndour. My partner pokemon.”

Giacomo smiled.

“A great partner to have. Dark types may seem mean and aggressive but they’re just sweethearts.”

He continued to pet your Houndour. She was acting like she never had any problems with other people before. He soon stopped petting her though.

“Well, I better get going. Clavell is going to lose his shit once he sees me. Saying stuff on how I should become a better student and all that crap.”

Giacomo then held out his hand toward you.

“Call me if you ever need help. Hell, even if you just want to join Team Star. My number isn’t too hard to find.”

You then shook his hand. After shaking it, he gave you a salute and walked off. Disappearing from sight.

Still shaken from the encounter, you looked down at your hand. A piece of paper with a phone number now perfectly placed on your palm. You couldn’t help but blush again.

Man was he smooth.

#giacomo x reader #pokemon #pokemon x reader #giacomo pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #look gordon it’s writing!

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lowcountry-gothic · 2 years

Text

One thing about The Rings of Power I feel doesn’t get enough attention or discussion is the soundtrack. Howard Shore’s soundtracks for the LOTR films are amazing and are in a category all their own, but Bear McCreary has made something totally unique and beautiful that feels like it fits another age of Middle-earth without even trying to emulate Shore’s work, and that’s quite an achievement.

I was listening to an interview he did about his work on the show, and he talked about how, for each culture, there’s a theme that encapsulates that culture’s values and aesthetics and concerns, as well as those of the current leader who embodies those cultural values, and then there’s an individual character theme that kind of serves as a counterpoint to the generic cultural theme. I think that’s really fascinating, and you can see a lot of examples.

The example McCreary gave in the interview was the dwarven kingdom of Khazad-dum. You have the main cultural theme, itself titled “Khazad-dûm,” which is bold and brassy and anthemic, but not very personal; and then you have “Durin IV,” which still embodies a dwarven aesthetic and feel, but has a lot of personality with its jaunty fiddles. “Khazad-dûm” gives you a sense of the place, with its stoniness and its angular architecture and its status as one of the great wonders of the world, while “Durin IV” gives you a really good sense of what that particular character is like; and the differences between the two themes give you a good idea of the tensions between Durin IV and his father, Durin III, who, as the king of Khazad-dum, is represented by the broader cultural theme.

You get this with a lot of the other cultures and kingdoms, too. For the Harfoots, the dominant culture theme is “Harfoot Life,” which embodies the cultural aesthetic of closeness to nature and nomadic life. It has an upbeat, wandering feel, but the percussion at the beginning of the piece feels surreptitious and sneaky, alluding to their practice of hiding from Big People, and some of the background strings have a very set pattern that encompasses the more lilting, wandering main melody, suggesting that while the Harfoots are nomadic, they keep to very specific trails and don’t like to explore outside the range of their normal movements. The individual/counterpart theme is “Nori Brandyfoot,” which still has that upbeat wandering feel, but also feels much more yearning. There’s a desire to see new things and new places that comes from its strings and especially the Irish pennywhistle.

The “Númenor” theme, similar to “Khazad-dûm,” is big and anthemic, but there’s also a sense of ancientry and larger-than-life wisdom and heroicism. It gives the feeling that the people of this culture are inheritors of dignity and grandeur in their architecture, arts, sciences, and lore. As a companion to this, the “Elendil and Isildur” theme still has that feeling of grandness, but the grandness feels more remote, like a background or an echo, while the real emotion of the piece is not that wonder at an astonishing spectacle, but a real, human yearning (which speaks to Isildur, I think) and also an affectionate warmth and dependability and quiet strength that really suggests Elendil’s presence. So these two values of love for family and a calling for something else feel very particular and personal, especially set against that monumental feel of “Númenor.”

For the Elves, it’s a bit more complicated. There isn’t really a theme that embodies the dominant culture of the Elves, but there is still an interesting point-counterpoint relationship between the two elven themes that we do get. There’s the theme for “Elrond Half-elven,” which is warm, personal, and feels very safe and secure, while also suggesting the almost spiritual otherworldliness of the elves. It really does evoke a personality which feels, to invoke Tolkien’s own description of the character, “as kind as summer.” In contrast, though, we also have the “Galadriel” theme, which still has that spiritual otherworldliness but feels anything but safe and secure. It has a feeling of longing that I think is stronger than any of the yearning qualities in any of the other themes in the score, and I think the intensity of that longing comes from the theme’s inherent grief and loss, and, more importantly, trauma. The theme really effectively communicates the sense of sorrow and of one’s world being upended and of an innocence lost, of being transformed by something harrowing from which there is no coming back; only healing and moving on to something new and different, or being drawn ever more toward darkness.

And finally (for the purposes of this discussion, anyway—there’s a ton more I could go on and on about, other themes I haven’t even mentioned), I want to talk about the Southlands. Their dominant cultural theme is actually entitled “Halbrand,” which makes sense as he’s the exiled long-lost king of their culture. As with “Númenor,” there’s an air of age and history, but it’s less ancient and more medieval. It actually uses the Hardanger fiddle, the same instrument that made Shore’s theme for Rohan so iconic. But here, it feels despondent, a bit hopeless. It speaks of a heritage, but one that is a burden rather than a source of pride. In stark contrast to that is “Bronwyn and Arondir,” which has a much lighter feel, like a sudden breath of fresh air. There’s a sense of longing, but in that longing is also hope. A longing for something that feels possible, feels almost within one’s grasp; an appropriate feeling for a romantic theme. Just as Bronwyn in the story offers her people a way forward, a chance to defend their home against the enemy their ancestors once allied with, her theme also embodies that hope, one that stands in contrast to the weight of her culture’s deterministic guilt and hopelessness.

So yes, Bear McCreary deserves all the praise for his work on Rings of Power. We could have just got a Howard Shore impersonator, which would have probably been okay, but almost certainly wouldn’t have had the depth and dynamic, almost call-and-response structure of the actual soundtrack we have.

#text #mine #the rings of power #bear mccreary

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larrythefloridaman · 2 months

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Mayhaps some thoughts on Valentine?

Oh, dear valentine... so mysterious... and the weight of being the perfect, gentle showman is such a heavy burden to bear...

Val is fascinating to me, because even though theres so much we don't know about what he really wants, really feels, really thinks, because most of his screentime is on the sidelines in an obviously staged persona, theres a lot of interesting inferences we can make from what he says when he breaks character, doesnt break character, or expresses his (oft-ignored) agency, but, with so many details missing, I am forced to turn to thematic analysis and context clues to fill in the blanks. I say forced as though I dont love doing this shit lmao

Val's occasional awkward fumbling breaks with his presenter persona lead me to assume hes that flavor of theater kid thats sort of... reserved, passive, awkward, almost shy in their personal life until they're onstage, where they Come Alive before the crowd, but also, hes presented in his introductory episode as a man who 'walks directly into explosions just to see if he can survive them.' contradiction between the private and public self, risk and spectacle and, of course, performance are important things to consider when evaluating Val. He wants to put on a good show for the people, after all! Talented and radiant and powerful and good, Val is an instant hit with the audience- and Val puts his body on the line trying to 'save the day' in a very risky move, a shady deal with a shady being with shady terms. Keep in mind Crimson really hadnt done anything REAL bad at this point- a little theft, a little homewrecking, his greatest crime we saw was being kinda spooky, really.

We don't hear the terms of Val and Crimson's bet, their discussion of the terms entirely held through crimson's ability for psychic communication, but we do see the result. Valentine looked at the quiet, eldritch thing Crimson began as, and wagered his body as Crimson's prize. Crimson wins, a gentleman keeps his word, and the Captain Crimson era begins. It isn't long before theres reason to regret his choice, although the Grunk's death wasn't something Crimson exactly wanted to happen either. Captain Crimson, given the privilege of choosing who in the tie at the bottom of top 8 gets to move on to the next part of what was supposed to be a two part tournament, the Grunk is shortly after found dead. Val remains in Crimson's thrall for another several months, Team Crimson formed amid the hiatus's offscreen chaos.

I think a feeling of guilt in the situation hes avoiding does haunt him. He claims little memory of his time as Captain Crimson, but the Grunk certainly seems to blame him some, even saying that 'at least hes not dead this time,' when Val successfully defends his championship from the Grunk. And hes in good company! Culpable in the Grunk's Death Club: Crimson (oops!) Hamhel (catalyst for both his and his killer's presence at the tournament,) Val (unintentional accomplice to manslaughter) Larry, Iggy and Chartreuse (knowingly complicit for timeloop reasons!)

Which adds some layers to Val breaking from his professionalism and stage persona a bit in 23's intros to express Intense Concern with J0hn's puppeteering of a murderer and VERY POINTEDLY bringing up the Grunk's own murder charges, audibly upset by the Grunk explicitly taking pride in them, he's clearly pretty disturbed by it- although he never pushes too hard against the tournament's regular function, even when it would be pretty fair to. One must remember the P. Rool Arc- the tournament is not an unquestionable arbiter of good or fairness, the tournament's rules are not unbreakable impartial tenets of the universe but the personal, often petty, choices of a jesterly godking, a TURTLE in a CLOWNCAR, and so going along with them is, within their world, a choice that all the characters are making! Everyone in the cast is, for better or worse, somewhat complicit in the tournament's failings, at least as much as any one actor who willingly works under a questionable director or in a questionable industry, if that makes sense. Technically, Valentine's championship was won at Plum's expense. Valentine participated- alongside an assortment of other fighters, including Rights Sentience, a so-called sentinel of that which is good and right- in the group free-for-all to take P. Rool's win away from him, and happened to come out on top. Relevant information to recall on P. Rool Day.

And, also relevantly to 23, he's pretty disturbed by Quad too, as we see in his introduction in 17. I think Quad is critical to understanding what Val's got going on under the surface- of the clones, theyre pretty explicitly the most directly similar from base to clone, and ive said it before and ill say it again, the thing Ryan's said about Quad and Val thats stuck with me characterization-wise is that 'Val is like a rollercoaster, Quad is like skydiving.' Rollercoasters are a thrill, with ups and downs and twists and turns but a careful calculation for safe results along a planned path, placing an implicit trust in the engineers who designed it for you to enjoy, although the controls are left out of your hands, and so when something goes wrong all you can do is wait for it to be over and hope noone gets hurt. Skydiving is throwing yourself directly to the whims of the world and letting go for a very INTENSE and STRAIGHTFORWARD thrill, running on the often CAREFULLY CONFIRMED trust that your parachute will work and with direct, conscious, personal control over when it deploys. I think of how Val often rolls with the tournaments decisions despite his misgivings, often seemingly not even informed until DAY OF what he'll be dealing with, and I think of how Quad was part of the first forfeit in tournament history and on another occasion caught just a whiff of horseshit and marched right up to god and beat her ass. Quad is like Val without the tact, the nuance, the subterfuge, like Val if you intentionally distilled and intensified him to the point of parody, and in the process, boiled out all the subtleties and passivity.

The natural instinct to compare Crimson and Val's relationship during Val's possession and Quad and Order's is... I think not EXACTLY wrong, but I don't think it's one-to-one at all. If Quad is, thematically, like Val with all the subtleties and nuance (not to say quad is UNnuanced because of course he is, but like. yknow what i mean in this context) wrung out, then maybe the intensity and circumstances of the awfulness of Quad and Order's relationship is a much more black-and-white case, but the baseline dynamic was similar? Just. Greyer. More complicated. Less extreme. Another all-take and little-to-no-give relationship between a controlling person and someone only wanted and valued by them in the first place as a useful, disposable tool in the pursuit of their own desires, who was never really all that interested in them personally as anything more than that, because at the end of the day they always wanted something or someone else, until someone else gets rid of the taker, and the giver is left alone to reevaluate things in their absence. But i suppose we already knew that. Another difference of course being they were two people who happened to collide for a while by chance and made regrettable choices, while Quad was born and designed with the purpose of being used. (And, of course, got to overcome that.)

Considering other Crimson'd folks were very much able to dispel Crimson from their bodies when they didnt want him there anymore, Hamhel 'defecting' offscreen, Chessmaster casting it off with all the casualness of flexing muscle, when they had come to some kind of epiphany and wanted to better themselves, while Val needed to have it dragged out of him by force, and even, in a moment of weakness and spite in response to the humiliation of Dani's Rat Stunt may have even considered taking crimson BACK if jay's speculation about val's feelings after the exorcism in 11 holds weight... its... interesting. And while they're plenty professionally friendly, I do think theres potentially some... lasting resentment, between him and Dantoinette in the mix, too. She did not need to rub his face in losing to the rat, and that could just be a dani-typical weak-filter shit-talk moment. But he did not need to bring up the bear. and Val's usually more careful than that.

Val lost a bet. They were together for months. They had to have developed some kind of dynamic and rapport in that time. While he absolutely was a controlling asshole, even just by nature of How Possession Literally Works, there isnt much reason to assume crimson was uniquely cruel to Val in their relationship compared to his other partnerships, and most folks who were possessed for more than a day came out of that relationship rightfully hating his ass and not wanting to be around him but not like. Life-Wreckingly Transformed by Him or anything. He's not an abuser, hes not that kind of evil. hes your dickhead ex that brought out the worst in you, he's the sketchy mp3 downloader thats BEGGING for you to let him install viruses, he's the best employee at a scam company. Crimson is just as disgusted by people like Prism or the Doc as anybody else reasonable. He's just a selfish, negative, dirtbag asshole thats rebellious for the sake of it and pressures you into and gives you excuses to pursue bad ideas- both his and your own, and living vicariously through those he controls to escape his circumstances and get to be anybody but who and what he actually is for a while, and Val was perfect for that. He 'got what he needed' by 'being' him. Vibrant, beloved by the crowd and community, comfortable in front of the camera, seemingly so confident warm and happy despite everything, so in control of his own destiny, at least in theory. The heartless coveting that which he cannot have. Val reduced more than once to an idealized object on a pedestal. The perfect man, and a being that from certain perspectives might barely qualify as a person at all- he certainly didnt present himself as one to start with. Hell, hes still imitating Val just a bit trying to play presenter in his stead in Orange.

BUT. All that being said. Order isn't what Val chooses to compare his time with Crimson to, in a rare instance we see of him actually trying to talk about it. No. His choice of comparison is a different object of Val's disdain- Cupid. Heartbreak and Cupid.

Heartbreak and Cupid are friends. and Heartbreak does say he WANTS to find someone that meets his romantic standards- but Cupid begins to push through his boundaries, FORCING it, making this OVERWHELMING UNASKED FOR SPECTACLE out of his issues on live broadcast, and when he decides he DOESNT want to pursue it actively anymore, Cupid refuses to back down from trying, because he DID want it and Cupid doesnt want him to Give Up on what he wants, but the reality is Heartbreak just found some peace with being by himself and doesn't want it so bad anymore, but Cupid seemingly wont take him at his word that he's genuinely just changed his mind. Tempered expectations, mistaken for lost hope. And it pisses heartbreak off so much that at least when the wound's fresh he doesn't even want to look at the color pink.

Val made a bet. We didnt see the terms. Val, in contrast with his perfect gentlemanly persona, flirts with villainy from time to time- quite literally in the case of his exchange with Dr. Order at the start of 16 before Quad was made, sometimes less literally and more subtly complicit with the tournament's less than perfect ethics record, nobody's perfect, no exceptions, not even the perfect man is unflawed- but never truly falls from grace again after his time with Crimson, while using the same cunning and subterfuge the god of treachery employs in facing challenges and claiming advantages all the same. Tempered subversion, mistaken for submission to conformity. And Crimson's presence is enough to make Val just want to stay home.

Am i cooking or is this nothing? YOU decide!

#im sure as soon as i post this #ill see a billion problems with my wording or remember something im missing but ive spent too long on this hsjfsjgdjgdjdg #cpu kerfuffle #its Interesting. its Interesting and theres A Lot Going On There and All Of Its So Vague.

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 24 days

Text

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way, you're happy without me... (Prologue)

Hunterverse AU

Sy, Walter, Curtis (Lumberjack & the 2 bears) x POC Reader "Havoc/TG"

Ex Dean x Reader

Platonic Sam x Reader

Numerous SPN Characters

Summary:

It’s been quite some time since you last laid eyes on the Winchesters. So naturally they just so happen to stumble into your bar looking for some help on a case. Dean notices that as much as some things have stayed the same regarding you, others have certainly changed. Like your relationship status with not one but three men.

Warnings:

Angst and Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Hunterverse AU, Polyamory, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Angst and Romance, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Additional Tags to Be Added

Divider @firefly-graphics Banner @cafekitsune Happy Reading!

Life on the road as a female hunter can be fun. Filled with nights of passion between two or more people just trying to escape their lives for just a little while; but it is also extremely lonely. And for a soul like yours, loneliness, though necessary with the life you’ve led, is painful. Being with someone, even for a couple hours, connecting on some level, be it physical, emotional or both, just making them feel great, is what keeps you grounded and sane. Balanced for just a little while. Short lived but always worth it. Well that was until you met the Winchesters.

You had been working a simple salt and burn in a tiny little town in the middle of Tennessee. A ghost seemed to be causing trouble at the last standing bar in town. Killing the owner and a waitress just two days prior to your arrival. You had already done the whole Fed thing earlier in the day, getting the case breakdown from the local PD and checking out the bodies in the morgue. You needed to talk to the locals and find out a bit of information before really diving deep into research. You decided to forgo the FBI attire and go in something a little more comfortable, that’ll get the locals talking.

You rifled through your duffle bag and found your favorite pair of jeans. They’re dark gray, high waisted, with a torn left knee from getting caught on a low hanging branch while running through the woods on a Werewolf case a while back, and they hug your curves perfectly. Grabbing a simple white crop top that displays just the right amount of your assets, you complete the look with your favorite red and black flannel and dirty old brown combat boots. Taking a look in the bathroom mirror you decide to throw on a touch of mascara and a burgundy tinted lip balm for a pop of color. “Spectacles, knife, wallet and keys.” You repeat your mental checklist before you leave anywhere. “I think I’m good to go work my charm and maybe bring back someone to play with too.” You laugh at yourself for the overt cheesiness.

It was while you were prying info out of the sexy little bartender Zoe that John Winchester happened upon you. He let you finish your questioning and then persuaded you over to his table where his two boys sat. A gangly teenager and a cocky pretty boy were there in wait. “These are my boys. Sam and Dean. It seems we’re hunting the same thing. Mind if we join up? A young lady such as yourself shouldn't be hunting alone.”

“It’ll certainly help if I don't have to dig up bones all by myself. Just don't slow me down.” You slyly agree.

That first meeting was a year before Sammy left for Stanford and you never went back to hunting alone. In fact, you became Dean’s outlet for the emotional turmoil brought on by trying to keep the peace within his family.

You were his bright spot for a long time. Even through John's sacrificial death and his own trip through hell. But when Sammy got locked in the cage, well the Dean you knew and loved disappeared into himself. Determined to keep his promise to Sam, he went off to have an apple pie life with Lisa. Leaving you to lick your wounds and forge a new path for yourself, once again alone. It’s not like you were ever official or anything. You both had flings in different towns with different people. Slept with a woman or two together even. So really you couldn't blame him for how he was handling his grief.

That’s when you decided it was time to go home, heart wounded, but ready to be healed. Your father runs and owns a hunter bar called Total Party Kill, TPK for short. He decided to open it when you left at 18 to spread your wings and hunt on her own. He may be retired from the active part of the hunter's life but he still looks out for everyone and helps where he is needed.

Who would have thought that while mending your broken heart and slinging beer to rowdy Hunters would be when you met Sy, Walter and Curtis. Three rough around the edges (total softies when it comes to you) men that you get to call your own. Over the years they have more than proved themselves to you, earning your love and devotion. Something about the four of you together just works. If you aren't hunting as a group, you go in pairs, minimum. They can’t stand to leave you alone. There is always someone with you. TPK is your home base and no matter how far you go, you always come back home. You choose hunts as a group and are always willing to help out a hunter in need.

You share the duties around the bar that your dad has a hard time doing when you’re home. There are no favorites other than you being all of theirs. You’re a fully functioning Quad and at this point in your life you wouldn't have it any other way.

It seems as though Chuck has some plans for his favorite punching bag of a Winchester and they just so happen to involve you. What’s life without a little drama right?

#poc reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut

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g0rechan · 5 months

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Shoujo Tsubaki fankiddies on TVTropes

(Credit to goes to Anon for inspo<3)

Kagamine Akio

Abusive offspring

Abhorrent admirer

Ambiguously human- Considering all the unbirth asks.

Alpha bitch

All take and no give

Attention whore

Ax crazy

Bad people hurt animals

Beauty is bad

Blood knight

Black and white insanity

Chainsaw good

Chaotic evil

Character catchphrase- “ONLY MEEEE!”

Cold blooded torture

Crazy jealous guy

Crazy in the head, crazy in bed

Creepy child

Dark is Evil

Dirty kid

Disproportionate retribution

Emo

Enfant Terrible

Eerie pale skinned brunette

Entitled to have you

Evil feels good

Evil wears black

Evil is petty

Extreme melee revenge

Face of an angel, mind of a demon

For the evulz

Hair trigger temper

If I can’t have you

I love the dead

I’m a humanitarian

Intersex

It’s all about me

I will tear your arms off

Kids are cruel

Kick the dog

Kick the son of a bitch- because a lot of his victims aren't exactly innocent or nice people either..

Hates their parents

Jerkass

Knife nut

Lack of empathy

Like father, like son

Likes older people

Loving bully

Murder is the best solution

Murder the hypotenuse

Never my fault

No holds barred beatdown

No indoor voice

No sense of personal space

Parental child incest

Psychopathic manchild

Raven hair, ivory skin

Really gets around

Sadist

Serial rapist

Sinister nudity

Spoiled brat

Stalker with a crush

Streaking

Supreme chef

The bully

The dreaded

The hedonist

Troubling unchildlike behavior

Ungrateful bastard

Villainous incest

Would harm a senior

Would hit a girl

Would hurt a child

Yandere

You are fat- he bodyshames a lot.

Spotty Hanamura

Antagonistic offspring

Affably Evil

Being tortured makes you evil

Dark and Troubled Past

Dark action girl

Freudian excuse

Geisha

Hates their parent

Jerk with a heart of gold

Knife nut

Murder is the best solution

Psychopathic woman child

The fashionista

Rape as backstory

Rape as drama

Raven hair, ivory skin

Sadist

Statuesque stunner

Tokkuriji Hanako

Action girl

Bare your midriff

Big sister instinct- She likes to pick on Sakura for her height, but if she catches someone else bullying Sakura for it, she's quick to step in and stop it.

Broken bird

Cool big sis

Dark action girl

Dark is not evil

Extremely protective child

Floral theme naming

Girlish pigtails

Hates their parent- Muchisute

Lady swears a lot

Parental child incest :(

Rape as drama

Tomboy with a girly streak

Sadist

Silk hiding steel

Yara

Broken bird

Bully magnet

Cold blooded torture

Cruel and unusual death

Even the loving hero has hated ones- even though she forgave spotty for being a big jerk to her, she would never forgive benitsu and akaza if she survived, no matter how nice they were to her and who can blame yara?

Happily adopted

Kill the cutie

Nice girl

No full name given

Lipstick lesbian

Long hair is feminine

Rape as drama

The cutie

The lost Lenore :(

Too good for this sinful earth

Uncanny family resemblance- Even though she's nothing like her as a person and character, she still looks a lot like benitsu.

Woobie

Yarako

Tomboy and girly girl

Dark feminine and light feminine

Akira Hanamura

Broken bird

Brother-Sister incest (One-sided)

Dude looks like a lady

Incompatible sexual orientation- He's in love with hanako, who is not only his sister, but a lesbian and already taken by yara.

Rape as drama

The Everyman

Woobie

Keiko Arashi

Cool big sis

Girly girl

Happily adopted

Idol singer

Intersex

Kawaiiko

Nice girl

Long hair is feminine

Pink means feminine

Stepford smiler

Sweet Lolita

Wonder Sakura

Baby of the bunch

Black magic

Bullying a dragon

Bully magnet

Deadpan snarker

Extremely protective child

Floral theme naming

Good is not nice

Grumpy bear

Jerk with a heart of gold

Perpetual frowner

Pint sized kid

Stoic spectacles

The napoleon

Ryunosuke Shion

Aloof dark haired boy

Badass bookworm

Eerie pale skinned brunette

Extremely protective child

Face of an angel, mind of a demon

Four eyes, zero soul

If I can’t have you

Mature younger sibling

Nerd glasses

Parental child incest

Perpetual frown

Raven hair, ivory skin

Smart people wear glasses

Stoic spectatles

Teacher’s pet

The smart guy

Villainous incest

Wicked cultured

Tokkuriji Akito

Affably Evil

Amusing injuries

Beauty is Bad

Blue hair

Extremely protective child

Freudian excuse- He’s totally nuts and a terrible person, but growing up, Kaito and Muchisute abused him and Ryuno used to be pretty mean to him too.

Harmless electrocution

If I can’t have you

Kind hearted cat lover- He's toxic and quite crazy, but on the other hand, he has more heart than ryuno and his infatuation comes from sadness and sympathy over his dads being chronically ill and being disfigured and disabled.

Jerk with a heart of gold

Parental child incest

Punk Rock

Supreme chef

Villainous crush- bc he has a crush on Hanako

Villainous incest

Yandere

Ryuno and Akito

Enemies to lovers

Red oni, Blue oni

#shoujo tsubaki fankiddies #kagamine akio #tokkuriji hanako #yara #Akira hanamura #keiko arashi #wonder sakura #ryunosuke shion #spotty hanamura #tokkuriji akito

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turtletoria · 2 years

Text

CHARACTER RAMBLINGS THAT WONT LEAVE ME ALONE!! YES ITS ABOUT TWO BRAINS

Something that im really worried about with my characterization of two brains is that im de-fanging him as a villain.

While he has moments of sincere kindness (like when he gives wordgirl a comb on her birthday, unprompted, or when he helped her literally all day for a presentation; in a lot of their conflicts, they seem to be roleplaying a hero and villain. yknow), he can also be really cruel (ie, in the ep where he kept interrupting wordgirl from her normal life, to the point she complained, he said something along the lines of “i dont care”; in mousebrain takeover, he nearly killed her).

[IF YOU WANT TO KEEP READING THIS MASSIVE ESSAY OF A POST, GO UNDER READ MORE! YOUVE BEEN WARNED, THIS IS REALLY LONG. I MIGHT CUT IT LATER BUT I PROBABLY WONT </3]

While the nasty parts of his personality could easily be chalked up to Squeaky, i dont think thats a fair or interesting take because this denies the autonomy that im pretty sure Boxleitner retains to a certain degree -- plus this gives the character more complexity! Maybe Boxleitner enjoys being evil! Maybe the theatrical side (like when 2 brainz was essentially giving kid math superhero cues, or whenever two brains tries to make any of his crimes a spectacle) is Boxleitner being devious and having fun?

So anyway, here comes the crux of my dilemma, and a similar dilemma i think that the wordgirl crew also had when we see that they didnt bring Boxleitner back: i love two brains as a villain too much and losing him would be really sad!!! Also, there was a post on here (i lost it though, sadly, so if anyone has it please share!!) talking about how what a character deserves is not necessarily what the plot calls for -- I think that this applies here quite well. We would all love to see Boxleitner back, but without a significant plot reason, that wouldn’t make for an interesting narrative, especially in regards to how this relates to wordgirl the character. However, if we look at the last ep that two brains was in before the show ended, it’s the mind-switching ep! And in that ep, two brains was essentially Boxleitner again (though he kept referring to his human half as two brains... inchresting), and he essentially was trying his best to be a hero for wordgirl. I like to think of this as the sign that Boxleitner coming back could have happened had the show been able to go for longer and have more lore significant moments (like secret spaceship showdown)! Man I am really hoping for a well-done carmen sandiego-esque reboot where story can take a front seat to the educational aspect (but dont get rid of it, i like the words).

Another thing I wanted to bring up was that in the pilot of the show, two brains was seen to be having inner conflicts between Boxleitner and Squeaky a la Jekyll and Hyde, but this was cut due to being too dark for a really young audience. However, I wanted to put a twist to that (i know this is cringe but please bear with me): in the pilot, Boxleitner is made aware of there being an audience of kids out there, so I wonder if he tries very hard to not show his struggle to kids, including to wordgirl. So what the audience sees is a silly mouse guy who is delightfully dastardly, while in actuality Boxleitner has to hold himself back from being worse or truly hurting people. I don’t find this hard to believe given that Squeaky was gung ho for murdering a little alien girl and her ape friend. (But there’s also that interesting twist that Boxleitner may also have enjoyed the creativity of his villain persona, given that we see his inventions being absolutely bonkers nuts like a time stopping device??? or a huge magnet that can pull heavenly bodies???).

To that end, I dont see two brains separating voluntarily. First factor is time - hes been stuck for so long, and this has become familiar. Also, there is a chance that he may not feel like there’s anything left for him as Boxleitner -- throughout the series we dont really see a mention of his family, save for mention of a “niece” (i think this was the ms power ep) and a young lady he was in a photo with (in the new years’ ep). I’m guessing the lady is a younger or older sister, and that the niece is her daughter --> judging from the photo, and how he has kept it, I am thinking that he had a good relationship with her, and judging from how he was able to go to her niece’s graduation, they maintained contact even after he was Mous-ified.

Personally, my perspective on Boxleitner’s Backstory is that he was in a bad home, but he and his sister were close and managed to get out via college. Boxy just went into something like chem or biochem. He became a professor at Fair City (with an ulterior motive of meeting a superhero that hes heard of that lives there), teaching chem or whatever, and doing research into public service/superheroing on the side (very stressful, as hes running out of funding and nobody thinks this is a worthwhile venture). He is never able to catch up to wordgirl, and constantly misses meeting her -- in fact he is never able to see her clearly since shes zipping around too quickly and doesnt stop to talk to people.

At this point, no one has really seen what wordgirl looks like since 1) she barely knows how to be a hero and 2) Huggy is probably more focused on her doing a good job and helping people, and doesnt take into consideration the public aspect of being a hero (we can see in the show that he’s very protective of her identity - he probably doesnt want her to be seen for too long). One day, on his way to a presentation, he is saved by a very young wordgirl (probably around age 6-7)! He’s shocked that Fair City’s hero is a little girl, and he is instantly like “where are your parents???” etc. etc. but upon meeting Boxy, she finds in him a mentor that can help her with superhero-ing alongside Huggy (if Huggy helps with her alien powers, then Boxleitner helps her with being human). He goes 100% into research and publishing that superheroes and you book and sort of foregoes his professor responsibilities in favor of helping out wordgirl full time and working as a researcher for fair city. This leads to struggles with presentations and grant denials and other things that plague academia (screaming crying), things that wordgirl is unaware of (she is BABY) and also the audience doesn’t see (Boxleitner is a king of repression). As for Squeaky, I sort of see that as a project of ego --> not really for the benefit of science, but mostly for the spectacle and to remain relevant as a researcher. He was essentially pulling an Icarus after a bunch of fails and the need to do something good. Maybe I’m looking into this too deeply, but whatever thats the joy of life!!!

ANYWAY, all this to say that he never mentions parents and probably wouldnt have a drive to go back to the life he left behind. Except! He loves his sister (otherwise, why would he keep that image of himself and her NEXT TO HIS BED...) and he obviously loves wordgirl. I am wondering if there would ever be a catalyst event that he cannot stand being two brains anymore (maybe hurting wordgirl really bad, emotionally or physically, or maybe guilt has caught up to him or maybe he has grown horribly tired of losing all the time). I would imagine there being an invention mishap or an accident that throws them into a new situation --> picking up the pieces of being shocked into a new situation could prove to be interesting in seeing how characters respond to this change.

To conclude, I am conflicted with where to go --> I see Boxleitner trying so hard to help wordgirl with being a hero, especially considering that as she grows older shes going to need more help with problems like with violet or facing villains that get tougher and tougher like rhyme and reason; despite his help, he falls short and has to deal with the fact he was not as there for her as he should have. Or Boxleitner decides that he wants to stay a villain (I love two brains i hate to see him go). Personally I think the first option seems more interesting in how he can adjust to this new life and there are interesting themes of consequences and forgiveness to be explored there.

Ok thats all folks! Until next time :-)

#not art #its so damn long. i should do a word count

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eddiemunsongf · 2 years

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I really don't understand this discourse even. Chrissy is dead, nothing happened. We don't know if Eddie even thought about it. How is this even relevant?

eddie definitely thought about it lol

you're right, it's absurd. i think the fact that it's non-canon might be part of why it's so controversial, though. bear with me because i'm just gonna type through my thought process here.

the hate is all coming from one place, the popular ship. i'm hesitant to name it because i don't want to cause more problems or hurt anyone, and i genuinely feel no ill will towards the ship or the shippers, but we all know who i'm talking about. i just want everyone to know i'm not vaguing, i'm just trying to responsible.

that ship is extremely unlikely to become canon. even if it weren't mlm, it's subtle and coming in too late in the game. if it were to become canon in the final season, it would be confusing and alienating to a large part of stranger things' non-fandom viewers (the vast majority of the viewership). i just can't see it happening.

(to be clear, i would be delighted to be wrong about this. it's not my ship, but it would be a pretty wild move of the duffers to pull in the last quarter. i love spectacle. AND even if it never becomes canon, i don't think that makes it any less valid. one of the great joys of shipping is that it moves past the extremely limited canon and into the endless expanse of what could be.)

however. it is possible. possible in the sense that both characters are still alive. there's even a compelling case for one of them being intentionally queer-coded. i know that to the shippers, the set-up and tension between them is very real. if i put myself in their shoes, if i imagine being intensely invested in something so precarious, it's easier for me to see how we got here.

edssy is just such a clear threat. or, it would be if she weren't dead. it's so cliche and obvious and exactly the kind of ship tv execs and casual audiences understand and could get behind. it could become canon in a heartbeat. there are 0 societal/social forces working against it, but it still gives the feeling of being transgressive or novel. it's perfect. hell, the duffers have said in no uncertain terms that they missed out on something with edssy. if (BIG IF) chrissy were to come back somehow, edssy would be practically inevitable.

i think that's the crux of it, whether the antis are conscious of it or not. there's a real 'shutupshutupshutupshutup' kind of energy coming from them and i think this is why. strangers things has brought back dead characters. the duffers and joe and grace all see the potential and enjoyed playing in that space. the more attention edssy gets, the more free they are to re-open that door if they want to.

just like the other ship, edssy is extremely unlikely. however, if chrissy comes back, it suddenly jumps to being all but guaranteed. the antis who are deeply invested in their ship becoming canon need her to stay dead. and every drop in the edssy bucket makes it a teeny tiny bit more possible that she won't.

#edssy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #to my steddie mutuals: ilysm im honestly sorry for putting this shit in ur face #i know this isn't all of you just your most obnoxious cousins #anyway edssy army mobilize lmao fight death w fan art and shitposts #jk i dont want to encourage delusion #unless 👀#mp

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princesssarisa · 1 year

Text

@ariel-seagull-wings sent me a message asking which operas I think the Muppets would like best.

So here are my headcanons: the favorite operas of some of the Muppets.

Kermit – I think he would like La Bohéme. It's a simple slice-of-life, not too melodramatic as opera go, it blends comedy and melancholy, and even though it ends sadly, it's still a heartwarming portrayal of a group of friends. He might also enjoy Musetta's diva antics: they would remind him of a certain pig.

Miss Piggy – Wagner's operas, especially the Ring Cycle. They're larger-than-life and full of passion and spectacle, they're great vehicles for prima donnas with big voices, and because of the vocal power they require, they tend to be vehicles for plus-sized divas too.

Gonzo – The Magic Flute. He would like the weirdness of it, and no lady in opera would be more beautiful to him than Papagena. She would remind him of Camilla.

Fozzie Bear – The Barber of Seville. The most famous of all comic operas.

Scooter – The Marriage of Figaro. Its intellectual depth and history as sociopolitical commentary would appeal to his nerdiness, and because he's the Muppet Theatre's "gofer," he'd enjoy an opera where the servants are the heroes.

His sister Skeeter – She would also like Figaro, but for a different reason: because of its proto-feminist themes, with strong-minded women banding together to teach a lesson to a powerful, badly-behaved man.

Rowlf – Fidelio, because he loves Beethoven. He even mentions it in passing in the song "Eight Little Notes." (Quartets, quintets, fugues and sonatas, plus an opera and a few cantatas...")

Sam the Eagle – Porgy and Bess, because it's the great American opera. At least that's what he would say; if he were really as cultured as he pretends to be and actually saw it, he would be appalled by the depiction of drugs and violence.

Rizzo the Rat – Don Giovanni. He would see a kindred spirit in Leporello: a sarcastic lovable coward who gets dragged unwillingly through crazy hijinks and occasionally steals other people's food.

Pepe the King Prawn – Carmen. It's Spanish (in setting, at least) and spicy, like he is.

Robin the Frog – Hansel and Gretel, because it's an opera for kids and about kids, where kids triumph over evil.

Animal – He would also like Hansel and Gretel: all that good food onstage! He'd probably charge up there and start eating the gingerbread house, and wouldn't even stop when he realized it wasn't real gingerbread.

Statler and Waldorf – They would make fun of it all, just like they do everything else.

#the muppets #opera #headcanons

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vespersposts · 1 year

Text

Reap what you sow

Chapter 4 is where you try to convince a stubborn D to help you out following your way. Too bad you're not compatible at all, too bad you're impatient and he... Well, he's kinda taken aback.

Hope it's a good read!

Love,

Vesper.

"She's fine," you explain, glancing at the street lamps in the park beyond the intersection, "She just wanted to give me some time alone with you”.

Your walk is running out, and the clock is ticking. In less than ten minutes you will be standing in front of the entrance to your apartment.

Satsuki had been so good at making her need for a visit to the local pharmacy seem real; that even Tetsuya had had no objections when your foursome had split into two pairs at the previous traffic light. The big boy, however, was probably racking his brains to find out what Momoi needed. It amused you to think that his mind was rolling with a colourful spectacle; in which the serenity of period painkillers was contrasted with the sheer terror of a pregnancy test or, worse chance, the requirements for a couple's sexual activities.

Daiki huffs and scratches the back of his head, but doesn't answer. Then he stays still, making you stop walking at a random point. You see his gym bag swinging to the side, his big hands going into his pocket, and finally he starts to say something.

"Listen, you're pretty, but..." he mumbles, squeezing his shoulders.

"I'm pretty, but what?" you repeat, unable to resist the urge to nudge him.

"I... I don't want to get involved in a story, a girlfriend... problems, in short. But if you agree… We could... " and he pauses, because you can't help laughing. He looks at you with the face of someone who is ashamed of what he just put on the table.

"I don't want to sleep with you, dummy !" you exclaim in a hurry, trying to stop yourself from giggling, but the situation is so funny, and his face is so surprised, that it is an almost impossible task.

"So, what do you want?" he replies piqued, looking away from your smiling face.

"A friendly helping hand and a bowl of hot ramen, my treat! " you reply, pointing to the diner across the street, earning another frown.

"Come on, I'm starving!" you add, turning to look at him, watching the flow of cars, looking for the best moment to cross. You know he'll follow you, if only to make sure you don't reveal to his sweet Satsuki what he'd just suggested.

“You get on my nerves!" is the first thing he says to you, after he has spent the entire ten minutes at the table staring at you with contempt.

"Bear with me, at least I know how to choose a restaurant, and I am pretty, am I not?" you reply, enjoying the sight of the waitress placing a steaming bowl of fragrant goodness in front of you.

"Not sure anymore, the lights aren't doing you much good" he affirms, pausing as soon as he notices he has your attention "I wouldn't have accepted that thing anyway " he finishes, taking a bite at the noodles.

"Of course, you were only suggesting, or rather not suggesting!" you say wryly adding, for good measure, an ecstatic sigh as soon as you taste the dish.

"This is because … Honestly I don't give a damn " he retorts boredly.

"All you give a damn for is Satsuki, everyone knows it" you nod "Everyone except her boyfriend and Kuri, obviously!" you conclude, resting your lips against the cold glass.

Then he really does see you.

You feel them, his blue eyes on your lips, on your face, you feel his stern gaze trying to defeat yours.

You know you're playing the whole game right now, so you try to be as spontaneous as possible, even though you know you're gambling on the reactions of someone you've known for an hour.

"Help me and I will help you " you offer, chopsticks in hand. "Let's make a good play to teach your stalker a lesson, and in the meantime you'll get the attention of the woman of your dreams. That sounds very convenient to me! " you finish and continue your meal, as if nothing had happened.

Daiki continues to stare at you, but there is no longer a hint of arrogance in his expression; it is almost tender to see how much a mere mention of Momoi can reveal his nature as a disappointed lover. His lips tighten in a grimace, and he twirls the noodles in the bowl before lifting them up, as if deep in who knows what unpleasant thoughts.

"Annoying girl got a lot of time and nothing to do, huh? " he replies without further ado and takes a noisy sip of his broth.

Such an idiot.

"At least I don't pine away. That's such a winning strategy, big boy " you retort, ruining all your good intentions.

"I'm not pining for her, I'm just being protective!" he tries to reason, getting angry when he notices you smirking at his words.

"Protective!" you sneer "You're just a phoney coward who doesn't have the guts to take responsibility. Tell me, how long do you think you can go on slobbering over Satsuki and then turn to her boyfriend to apologise? You're lucky that Tetsuya has the soul of a saint, any other boy wouldn't have had his composure. You are indeed one hell of a friend! " you say at the end, sticking your chopsticks into the bowl.

"Bloody psycho! " he snarls as he gets up from the table, almost dropping his chair, and stands in front of you for a few seconds, as if waiting for a reaction.

That poor, innocent soul!

He will find no upset or flushed face, no tears in your eyes, no pleas for him to stay.

Screw him and his overbearing ego.

When the waitress worries, you smile and assure her that the unpleasant scene was due to an emergency, not the boy's nerve-wracking gesture.

As promised, you pay for your meal and, as the cool air touches your cheeks, you turn your back on him, ready to walk away without even saying goodnight, but then you hear his voice calling your name and adding "Sorry".

You let him catch up with you and made your way to the entrance of your building.

"Never mind, you said you found me irritating from the start, but I've only made it worse. I guess we're even " you replied, knowing that you would have to apologise in return. "We made each other's dinner a nightmare. But at least the ramen was good! " you conclude, smiling up at the sky filled with clouds.

"You really know how to choose restaurants” the boy agrees with an amused look.

"And I'm pretty too, you always miss the most important detail! " you point out, making him laugh heartily.

" Do you really need to hear that?" he asks, stopping in front of the crossroads that will separate you.

"No, not at all. I don't mind not being your type. In fact, I find it very nice that no one is your type, since your feelings for Satsuki run so deep. You certainly don't need me to get her attention, but that's exactly why you could have fun with other girls. You chose otherwise. I respect the way you want to protect your feelings and hers too" you confess to him as you pull out your house keys and prepare to say good night.

"It's not really a choice, it's that I can't help it" he admits. "It would all be easier if I were an unemotional person with the truth in my pocket like you, but Satsuki… “ he huffs, looking away “Every time I try to move on, I end up right back where I was before, even more bitter than I was before. Does that make sense?" he concludes, watching you nod.

"You have to do what you feel, there's not much more to say. As you said, I'm blessed to be more of a vengeful person. Kuri has been giving me a hard time since primary school and she likes you. I just wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. There is no romance or a loved one like Momoi involved. We came from different paths, so you're probably right, this whole idea is crap!" you explain, shrugging your shoulders and smiling.

"Well, that girl's a real pain" he nods, pulling out his mobile phone to open the contact book and placing it in your hands. "Give me a few days to think about it, ok? " he says, returning your smile, surprised at the name in the address book.

"Are you serious?" he laughs and shakes his head.

"You can change it, you know my name " you simply point out.

"Nah, 'Pretty' sounds just as good to me. See you later, psycho pretty!" he grins, waves farewell and disappears around the corner.

You stand there for a few minutes, turning the house key in your hands, because you know there's something deeply wrong with flirting with someone you don't care about, just to hurt her. The cutesy scripts to get his attention, the unnecessary flirting, the emphasis on that fancy adjective. All those thoughts running through your head, all because you don't like him very much either, but once again Kuri has made up your mind for you.

And now you are going along with it, like a good pet.

"What the hell am I doing?" you sigh as you open your door and call it a day.

#knb x reader #knb #knb scenarios #knb aomine #knb x you #the basketball which kuroko plays #aomomo #kuromomo #knb fluff #knb momoi #knb kuroko #aomine daiki #aomine #satsuki momoi #aomine daiki x momoi satsuki #momoi satsuki #momoi best girl #kuroko no basket

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