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sweet-evie · 7 months

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I have so many thoughts and headcanons about the Gojo clan... You have no idea. 😭 Also, I'm talking out of my ass and everything I say is fictional and from pure imagination... Don't take it seriously.

The Gojo clan may or may not span 40 generations based off of how long ago Suguwara Michizane lived...

and ummm... That's a lot of generational wealth 🤯.

Imagine if you married into that -- married Satoru Gojo. You're automatically the highest-ranking woman in the family, on top of having access to all that money. 😆

Listen, some of the world's richest families like the Rockefellers currently span 7 generations and they're worth billions of dollars.

Damn I really need a full backstory on the 3 major clans. I need to know how rich they are and how they maintained and/or grew that wealth until the modern day.

There's plenty of drama and info on the Zen'in clan. We get crumbs and pieces about the Kamo clan...

But info on the Gojo clan is close to nada, and I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM DAMMIT! I'm so thirsty for more worldbuilding in JJK, you have no idea.

At this point, just seeing Satoru's parents would make me happy.

I have a headcanon that Gojo's family, apart from being sorcerers and political powers in the jujutsu community, are probably mixed bags of company shareholders, politicians, lawyers, philantropists, etc.

Yeah, it's said that the Gojo clan is a one-man army that consists of Satoru Gojo, but I interpret that as Satoru outshining every other family member -- especially every other practicing sorcerer in the family. (There's simply no surpassing the wielder of the Six Eyes and the Limitless technique).

The Gojo clan is a sorcerer clan first and upper tier members of Japanese society second.

Some of Satoru's male relatives are probably Shinto and Buddhist monks. The point is to have a foothold in influential religions among non-sorcerers.

I like to think that maybe one sorcerer in the clan has Limitless... maybe his grandpa, but the man was never as efficient with it as Satoru Gojo.

Maybe the majority of the sorcerers in the Gojo clan fight with Grade 1 cursed tools and good-old hand-to-hand imbued with cursed energy. Maybe other cursed techniques exist within the Gojo clan too... It's all just overshadowed by Satoru.

I also think the Big 3 actually tend to keep to themselves (e.g., the Zen'ins having their own military unit). Their spawns don't ALL go to Jujutsu High, do they? It's a choice for them rather than a necessity. Like, Jujutsu High was established primarily for sorcerers who come from "somewhat normal" backgrounds, unlike people from the Big 3. Satoru was born into jujutsu sorcery and it's the only life he's ever known, whereas people like Suguru who come from non-sorcerer families are brought into Jujutsu Tech to learn about what it means to be a part of jujutsu society, and to teach them that they're not, you know, mentally ill because they can see curses.

Quick side note, I imagine Jujutsu Tech as the bridge between the branch of the Japanese government that is aware of the existence of curses and the jujutsu society as a whole. It just kind of makes sense that way, especially when you consider where their funds to pay people come from -- not from thin air, that's for sure. I mean, how else do the higher-ups get the funding to pay their actively practicing sorcerers, especially the special-grades? Does jujutsu sorcerer pay roll come from citizens' tax money?

Also... On top of Satoru Gojo having access to his clan's generational wealth and assets, how much is he getting paid as an instructor at Jujutsu Tech? Is that salary separate from his special-grade sorcerer salary? Is he technically working 2 full-time jobs?

Man is rolling in cash...

Anyway, I want to circle back to the point that Satoru Gojo is the most active sorcerer in the Gojo clan when it comes to interacting with the higher-ups and being a constant presence in Jujutsu Tech. Obviously, his fingerprints are all over Jujutsu society politics as well.

I headcanon that Satoru comes from a big family, actually. Satoru is an only child, but I imagine lots of cousins and aunts and uncles and distant relatives, and the Gojo estate is probably one massive compound where most of the family lives. Like, they can live in that huge ass ancestral property if they want too... There's plenty of room.

The clan also likely owns several other properties and probably small temples or shrines across Japan. They have one ancestral seat and other properties. That goes for the Kamo and the Zen'in clans as well.

That real estate portfolio be popping.

As for actual size, think Heian estate in ancient Japan big. It's expansive.

Maybe the sorcerers in the family would be fond of living in the Gojo estate. The others, especially the ones who hold positions in the government or the military or who have public-facing jobs have their own homes registered under their own name, and not... you know... registered under the family with the clan head.

Another headcanon is that the clan head is capable of assigning properties and other clan assets to family members if he chooses to. Satoru Gojo can give away houses if he wants too, like a nobleman or European feudal lord. But for real, the Gojo clan might have been part of the nobility in ancient Japan, only losing their noble titles after the Imperial family changed the rules around the 1940s.

Speaking of, it's probably not a reach to assume, that the clan head has his fingers in many many honey pots. 🍯 That is to say, Satoru Gojo has access to more money than he can spend in a single life time. And after he's passed, maybe the money just goes back to the surviving members of the clan.

I need to know Satoru Gojo's net worth.

I think each of the Big 3 has their own hierarchy and their own family politics. Again, the Zen'ins are a prime example...

For the Gojo clan, I headcanon that there's a small council of elders -- people way older than Satoru. Satoru's own father is probably part of that. Put his grandfather and a couple of uncles and aunts in there too.

How do they work? I imagine it's pretty similar to how the Small Council functions in Game of Thrones. Like, there's someone in charge of managing finances, someone who keeps an ear on clan politics, someone who has a foothold in the national military, etc.

I imagine they have a bi-weekly gathering. They offer counsel, but the final decision in any dilemma they discuss always falls to the clan head -- Satoru Gojo.

I also headcanon that Satoru has a penthouse somewhere in Tokyo -- a place he considers as his own residence, away from clan politics and the rest of his probably snobby family.

But Satoru is always busy, so his penthouse is way too clean. It looks like no one lives there.

This is the vibe of the penthouse... I have his penthouse in my Sims 4 game.

Speaking of snobby... The Gojo's clan general reputation? I would say... They're intellectual people, some of them are likely obsessed with history, and rigid and formal when it comes to observing traditions. I imagine they have a tendency to be really elegant.

Whenever the Zen'ins look at them, the stereotypical thought is, "Look at those pompous, snobby, jackasses."

In the succeeding years since December 7, 1989, the Gojo clan's sense of pride has only grown, because well... The most powerful and strongest sorcerer of the modern age came through their lineage.

Needless to say, Satoru Gojo is the pride and power of the Gojo clan.

Satoru's parents were practicing Grade 1 sorcerers... really active in the field, and Satoru's grandfather was Clan Head for a time.

Satoru's mom retired from fieldwork after she married Satoru's dad and after she got pregnant and became a mom. I love my headcanon that she's a shrewd politician and is all about maintaining good standing with the elders while doing intelligence gathering. The woman maintains a network, so she's always in-the-know.

Satoru doesn't make it easy for his mom especially when he goes around and does what he wants. e.g., Becoming a benefactor to Megumi, saving Yuji and Yuta, etc. She's actively working to cover his tracks wherever she can.

Satoru's mom is actively looking for a wife for him, for obvious reasons. The plan never came to fruition because of the Shibuya incident and Ch #236.

Satoru's father is more politician than actively practicing sorcerer by the time Satoru was studying in Jujutsu Tech. He's all about maintaining solid relations with the other clans, the elders, and collaborating with the branch of Japanese government that knows of the existence of jujutsu sorcery. He probably works with the Japanese government too.

Satoru Gojo visits the family estate once in a while... for other business, but primarily for hearings and clan meetings. It's peculiar to look at during these meetings because Satoru is the only person in that room who isn't wearing traditional clothes. Like, I headcanon that he shows up in casual attire, or his Jujutsu Tech uniform, complete with the blindfold.

His mom probably tried to talk him into wearing traditional clothes for these meetings when he was younger, but it just never stuck. Satoru is Satoru, after all.

After Satoru Gojo passes away, I like to imagine the Gojo clan takes a bit of a backseat. It's probably the wiser course of action too, considering everything that's happened in Japan after October 31, 2018.

[I know some people think he's the only survivor of the Gojo clan, but you gotta think of the fact that he learned about Hollow Purple from some people. Someone taught him FBE as a kid.]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #gojo clan

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ladyyatexel · 4 months

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Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!

#mutual aid #help #donations #charity #i feel real ashamed to have to do this! :D

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chvoswxtch · 5 months

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Hi,

I had a request… I’m currently obsessed with Frank Castle (he’s just so 🥵) and had an idea, it’s not super original so I understand if you don’t want to write it!

A non-binary (they/she) character who is plus-sized and younger than him (in their mid-20s) taking him home to meet her family for the holidays. And she is very insecure and worried about how their family will react. Maybe while there, a family member says something hateful about her weight and/or being non-binary, and Frank goes to comfort/reassure her, and maybe even gets mad and defends her to her family?

Can be smut or just fluff (or both!)

I just thought it would be cute to see his more protective/caring side, mixed with his possessive and angry side. I love that dynamic (:

hello my love!

so i'm not sure if you've watched the bear (i'm still working through it myself) but there's a scene where jon flips a table and goes on a rampage and I just thought that was super fitting for this prompt so I drew a lot of inspiration from that & I hope you enjoy!

I also hope you're having a wonderful day or night wherever you are and that the holidays are being kind to you 🖤

warning: swearing, frank being frank word count: 1.5k

dessert.

It was so quiet in the cab of Frank’s truck, you swore you could almost hear the delicate noise of fresh snowflakes carelessly colliding with the windshield over the dull roar of the heat coming through the vents. The holidays were always a complicated time for you with your family. In the earlier months of the year, there was a welcoming sense of freedom to be exactly who you were without judgment. But when the colder weather started to seep in, so did the impending dread. All you had wanted to do was introduce your family to the man you had fallen in love with, and celebrate your first holiday together in a special way. You had anticipated a little bit of uncomfortable tension, prepared yourself for a few tasteless passive aggressive comments, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

Bringing Frank home to meet your family hadn’t been the mistake. It was underestimating his protective nature and forgetting the caliber of his restless temper.

Things had already been off to a rocky start as soon as you walked through the door. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be shamelessly sticking to the way your outfit clung to the soft and full curves of your figure. The same outfit that had Frank nearly pulling over to the side of the road impatiently because he couldn’t keep his eyes ahead was currently the topic being whispered about by your aunts. However their attention was quickly stolen as soon as Frank walked in behind you. Their hushed gossip rang loudly in your ears, causing the confidence Frank had built up within you to fizzle out into insecure embers.

He’s so…normal looking. What’s he doing with her?

She’s not a her, remember? She’s…oh I forget what it’s called. Another complicated thing these kids have come up with. I swear it’s something new everyday. I can’t keep up.

He seems much too old for her, and look how fit he is. They seem way too different, there’s no way they’re actually dating.

It only got progressively worse from there. By the time everyone sat down to have dinner, it was like you weren’t even there. Everyone asked Frank a million and one questions, but no one asked you a single thing. No one asked how you were, or how the new job was going that you were so excited about. No one asked how you and Frank met, or how long you had been dating for. Everyone seemed to be trying to figure out the puzzle of what Frank was doing here with you, and eventually, you found yourself trying to solve that exact same riddle. It was almost incredible how your family managed to ruin all the trust and love that the two of you had built up over the past few months. All the promises of reassurance that flowed so easily from his lips seemed to vanish from your memory, and the quieter you got, the angrier Frank became.

He was polite at first, answering the simple questions with appropriate responses, but the more they tried to exclude you from the conversation, the more he tried to aggressively incorporate you into it. His frustration was evident in the way his voice became more rough and coarse, a detail only you were able to pick up on. That should’ve been the first warning bell in your head. But you were so wrapped up in your own insecurities that it didn’t occur to you to reach for his hand under the table to calm him like you normally did when he got worked up. Frank was doing his best to contain his rage at the way your family treated you, but one hateful comment from your alcoholic of an uncle about your weight caused him to erupt.

It all happened so fast, that you were stunned. Your uncle was in the middle of following up his weight comment with an insult about your non-binary identity when Frank suddenly stood and flipped the table out of his way so he could rush forward and strike his fist across your uncle's face. In a split second, everything had descended into chaos. Your mom and aunts were screaming, your father and uncles were trying to pull Frank off your drunk uncle, but they weren’t a match for his strength and tenacity. It wasn’t until you fought your way through them and tugged at Frank’s shirt in a panic that he finally relented and let you drag him out of the house.

For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in his truck where it was parked in front of your family’s house, both of you attempting to calm down. Frank was trying to quell his anger while you were coming down from the shock of what had just happened. The longer you sat in silence watching the waves of snowflakes caress the glass of the windshield, the more uneasy Frank became. Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, he finally couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

“Look I…I didn’t…m’sorry, alright? Can you just…will you please say somethin’?”

“I can’t believe you flipped a table.”

Frank blinked in dumbfoundment a few times, his dark brows pinching together in the center of his forehead. He was expecting you to yell, to go off on him, maybe even break up with him right then and there, but not to hear you sound so amused about his explosive behavior.

“Huh?”

“That was ‘real housewives’ of you.”

When you finally turned to face him, he noticed the faint smirk on your lips, and that one little gesture eased all the anxiety that had been building up within him for the past fifteen minutes. He let out a puff of air through his lips, looking ahead as he shook his head slowly and glanced at his side mirror while trying to fight the crooked grin that threatened to spill across his lips.

“Yeah well, dinner was dull. Thought I’d spice it up a bit.”

“I’d say you spiced it up a lot.”

Frank turned his head to look over at you, and you could see a faint apologetic twinkle in his eye from the glow of the street lamp above.

“You mad?”

It was your turn to look at him in dumbfoundment. Arching one of your brows, you let out a soft laugh while tilting your head to the side in slight curiosity.

“Am I mad that you stuck up for me?”

“I coulda handled it better.”

Scooting over to the middle seat of the cab, you brought your hand up to gently caress his jaw while staring into his warm brown eyes with a soft smile.

“No Frankie, I’m not mad. I promise.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, letting him feel the sincerity behind your words. You weren’t mad at all. No one had ever been so protective or defensive of you before, and while some would’ve thought his reaction was a little extreme, you knew it was just Frank’s way of showing you how much he loved and cared about you.

“Thank you.”

“For ruinin’ the holidays with your family?”

“Baby, they were ruined before we even got here. And honestly, this is the best holiday season I’ve ever had, thanks to you. You made it special for me. It was probably a bad idea to come here, but I just wanted to show you off. Show them all how happy I was. I thought they would be happy for me-”

“Hey, to hell with ‘em. They don’t deserve to see that pretty smile after the way they treated you. That asshole’s lucky I don’t go back in there-”

“Frank.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you redirected his angry glare from your family’s house back towards you as you pulled him in for another soft kiss.

“Let’s just go home. We can order something in.”

Frank took one last irritated look at your family’s house, letting out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Goddamn chicken was dry anyway.”

For some reason the frustration coveting his sharp features and the grumpy tone of his voice just made you laugh. Giving his thigh a gentle squeeze, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and smiled adoringly at him.

“We can have something else for dinner.”

Frank turned his head to look at you, his gaze wandering slowly up and down your figure before settling on your eyes once more. The ravenous look reflected back at you simultaneously sent a shiver down your spine and filled your lower half with a sense of heat. He reached out to place one of his large hands on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze as his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Think I’m ready for dessert, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x nonbinary!reader #frank castle x nb!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic

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cripplecharacters · 23 days

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Hi! I’m writing a story about a lady with Down Syndrome. I was wondering if you knew where I can find any resources about Down Syndrome made by people who actually have it, or any organisations that would be good to follow. Any resources made by people with intellectual disability would be really helpful as well.

I read your post about this and it was really helpful so thank you, I’m going to use it as a starting point for my research.

If you’d like some context about the story she’s literally a lady in the 1920s who’s trying to get control of her family’s estate from her brother. Shes underestimated for her disabilities and for being a women but I’m trying to not focus so much on the discrimination and work more on giving her an interesting mystery to solve with the detective she hired. I’d like it to be a bit lighthearted. Anyway, as she’s a main character I really wanted to make sure I wrote her well. Thanks!

Hi!

There aren't many resources out there unfortunately, but there is a page on the UK Down Syndrome's Association's website where members with DS share their opinions on representation in TV and film! You can read it here. For info on intellectual disability in general the best I can do is link some of my previous posts on it - there's close to nothing that's actually made by us unfortunately, everything that I was able to find is always made by someone who knows a person with ID at best. To be clear, not all of it is bad - I thought this interview (TW for abuse that happens in the movie's plot) about a movie starring actors with DS was pretty good - but it's still a sign that we aren't getting enough #OwnVoices representation. It's slowly changing though!

To learn more about DS I would probably recommend NDSS, it's one of the very few orgs that have people with Down Syndrome as board and team members (should be the bare minimum, but it unfortunately isn't). There's also information on things like preferred language and myths that often show up around Down Syndrome!

I'm not great with history, but in the 1920s she would be a subject to a lot more than just discrimination. Eugenics and institutionalization would definitely be present. Not sure what route you'll take there, but basically all the words around that time that she would be described with are currently considered slurs or pejoratives. The racist term for a person with Down Syndrome was officially used into the 60s, and the ableist one is still used legally in 2024. But if you want to skip past that, I think that's more than fine. You don't always have to aim for 100% historical accuracy, just be aware of the real history.

A detective story sounds very exciting! If you decide to publish it on Tumblr or other online site feel free to send me an ask with a link, I'd love to read it :-) !!

Thank you for the ask!

mod Sasza

I’m just popping in as a history fan for a couple bits of history notes — but again, like Sasza said, you don’t have to be 100% historically accurate if you don’t want to and if you don’t feel it’s necessary.

So, especially in the first half of the 1900s, a large part of disabled children, including children with Down Syndrome, were institutionalized very early in their life. Around this time the push that immorality caused disability was strong, and people were often convinced by doctors and professionals that the children’s needs would always be too much for them. Eugenicism was sort of reaching a peak around this time, as well—I would say it was at its most intense in the period of 1900-1940s.

Not all parents institutionalized their children, though. There was pressure to do so, but that doesn’t mean everyone fell victim to it. There wasn’t really any official support for parents who did this, and there weren’t official organizations for Down Syndrome. From my research, the current large DS organizations seem to have popped up in the 60s.

The term ‘Down Syndrome’ wasn’t in popular use until the 70s, and it wasn’t known that it’s caused by an extra chromosome until 1959.

Life expectancy in 1900-1920 for people born with Down Syndrome was 9 years old. Some of this could absolutely have been due to conditions in institutions, but likely even more relevant is that about 50% of people with DS are born with heart defects (also known as congenital heart disease) that can be fatal if not treated with surgery. Heart surgery wasn’t really feasible until the late 30s and early 40s. Another risk factor is a higher risk for infection, which isn’t easy to manage in a world that doesn’t yet have antibiotics.

I actually wanted to find pictures of adults with Down Syndrome pre-1940ish, though, to see real tangible evidence of adults being part of a community. First I found just one picture of a baby in 1925 on this Minnesota government website. But then I found a collection someone made of photos of both children and young adults, but they are not specifically dated. The first baby picture is from the 30s according to the poster!

Judging by the clothes I see people wearing in these photos, photo #4 (man with Down Syndrome in a suit next to a woman) seems to be from the 20s and photo #13 (young woman with Down Syndrome and very long hair) seems to be from about the 1910s. #18 (large family with a lot of sons, including one boy with Down Syndrome) could be from the 30s. Those three are the oldest people with DS in the photos, and they seem like young adults. A lot of these pictures show a community and aren’t just isolated kids, which I find nice.

It’s hard to find specific historical record of people with Down Syndrome from that period of time, but I wanted to show photos of real people in their communities to show, hey look! They were there, too!

Either way, I love detective stories and historical fiction and I’m glad you’re writing a story and that you care about your character’s portrayal but I totally know the feeling of that tricky balance between historical accuracy and modern acknowledgement that we should have been doing better.

— Mod Sparrow

#mod sasza #mod sparrow #intellectual disability representation #historical fiction #pretending that this answer isn't extremely late.. sorry #tw eugenics #tw ableism

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ddollfface · 3 months

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Hii~ it's me again.

You said The Athlete has siblings right? How is he with them? Or just generally with his family, as of current day?

Also, (with Childhood bestf Darling) what would he do if they had a crush? What if it was one of his other team members?

Nobody can convince me that the absolute black cat of a darling I have in mind would ever have a crush in a normal way.

At first, darling is crushing hard on someone, doesn't really realize it, but a certain other guy does. Then, when darling does realize, they do everything in their power to push that person away and I imagine he's right there, on calls with them late at night as they complain about their crush, because-

"he's horrible, right? And he doesn't even like me. Ugh. I hate him so much. He's cruel, and selfish, and arrogant, who'd like a guy like that?"

Insert our boy with the sweetest, "Of course, pumpkin. He's horrible, you know what he did last summer..." (Cue him telling darling about the most atrocious thing darling's crush ever did.)

- 💗 (Making an OC to ship with him is not a want, it is a need. Also, I absolutely love your writing style. The way you slip from third person writing to first person dialogue is really cool.)

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"When I looked into his eyes, I knew he was the one." Trigger Warnings; bad writing, spelling errors, vague baby trapping, reader can get pregnant, both yandere and reader have baby fever (self-insert lol), reader and yandere are 18+, descriptions of sex, sex is brought up, talking about yandere's bad childhood, yandere is a lovesick fool, 18+ If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I'm splitting this ask into two different things 'cause it's easier on my tiny brain (I also think they're two completely different asks, so yeah). Also, my writing style (where I slip into thrid person) is inspired by @depravitycentral's writing, their literally so good, please go read it:)))

Okay, okay, so let me tell you about LoveSick!Athlete and his childhood, more so his siblings. LoveSick!Athlete is the oldest, though he does have an older half-brother. He's not too close to him, and he was never around. This means, that in the family dynamic, LoveSick!Athlete was the oldest.

Now, after him, he has a little sister, who he is very, very, very close to. Her name is Nayda and she's only a year or two younger than him, they have the same dad, who is a complete scumbag btw.

After Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete there's the twins, who are only two years old. They have a different dad from Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete. They're interracial babies (meaning they're a mix of black and white, in this situation), and this has caused a whole bunch of issues for LoveSick!Athlete and his mama. Especially since where he's from, people aren't the most accepting of interracial couples. There have been far too many times when these old ladies will make too many assumptions with their grabby-ass hands, leading to a whole assortment of problems.

LoveSick!Athlete is close with his family and he feels very protective over them, particularly toward his mama and sister. This is partially because they're women and he has a, slightly, closeminded view of women. He sees them as something he needs to protect. He was raised to never, ever hit a girl, ever. That was seen as unacceptable and it was something his mama would be pissed over.

However, this doesn't mean that he thinks women shouldn't work or anything, it's just that he feels an instinctual need to protect women, even if they can handle themselves. This stems from his unstable childhood; how he would see his mama struggle, both financially and romantically. Because she was the only woman he ever really interacted with, rather than his sister, he grew this instinctual, primal even, need to protect women based on his experiences of watching his mama.

Then there's the twins, Bijan and Abbas, who LoveSick!Athlete isn't too close with. Of course, when he's home for holidays, he always, always helps his mama and stepdad with taking care of the unruly toddlers. He enjoys taking care of them, but he doesn't really see them as his siblings, seeing as he was already out of the house by the time they were born.

Though, LoveSick!Athlete does have a good relationship with his stepdad, seeing as his stepdad is a far better man than his pa ever was. His stepdad was his mama's therapist (ooo interesting dynamic), and he really helped his mama through the filling of a restraining order process (it was against his pa). He even calls him dad, something he never did with his pa. LoveSick!Athlete's mama always makes them have "bro-time", as she calls it. She wants her two favorite boys to get along, and it warms her heart every time she sees them sharing a moment, usually, it's a conversation relating to her.

LoveSick!Athlete respects his stepdad as both a man and a person; he believes that he'll take good care of his mama when he isn't there, which is his top priority. He wants his mama to have a stable life, for her to get out of the projects, and have a nice home. LoveSick!Athlete, no doubt, is a mama's boy and always has been. He loves his mama to death and would love for you to meet her. He thinks she'd absolutely adore you, and she does (from what she's heard about you).

Due to how many siblings, and cousins, this man has, he's very, very, very good with children. Out of all of his cousins, he's the third oldest, meaning that he had to take care of all the younger kids. He was always left giving the baby the bottle or picking the twins up from school.

It wasn't his favorite thing in the world, being a babysitter, but it never bothered him too much as he's very good with kids. Babies seem to just relax around him, giving his mama much relief. He just has this atmosphere around him that kids just seem to love.

LoveSick!Athlete likes how energetic kids can be and how they seem to have a rose-colored view of the world. Their overall optimism really brightens his day and he can't help but let his mind wander, thinking of what your children would look like. Would they have your eyes? He hopes so; he really thinks your eyes are beautiful. The way your iris shimmers under light; how he can see his reflection in your eyes. It's like he can see right through you; your every emotion is reflected in your colorful eyes. Whatever you're hiding or refusing to tell him, he can see in them.

Sometimes, LoveSick!Athlete will just sit there and stare at you, without your knowledge, of course. While you two are on a date, he'll just watch you stuff your mouth, unaware of his peering gaze. He just can't rip his eyes away from yours; he sees his future in them, your future together. You'll catch him, eventually, staring at you like a lovesick idiot. And he'll just shrug, after all, he can't deny my feelings, sweetcheeks. You're far too easy on the eyes to not stare at! Don't derive a man from a good view, yeah?

He'll smirk, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand, and smile slyly.

He's very subtle with his little baby fever spurts. He'll periodically have moments where he'll feel this overwhelming need to breed you, to make your tummy swell with his children. He wants to make you the mother of his kids, to make you a sweet, little mama. He knows you'd be great; you'd be such a good mother, he thinks.

When the two of you are cuddling, he'll absentmindedly rub his hand up and down your midriff, letting his calloused hand trail down to right above your center. LoveSick!Athlete would hold your waist a little tighter, the thought of you all stuff with him, him, him makes him go insane.

He'll hint it to you when the two of you are going at it; your legs hiked up on his shoulders; he's plowing through you. He's never quiet when making love, as he calls it, but when the baby fever is hitting hard, he's never closing his mouth. Little gasps and pants leave his mouth, going on and on about how you're the one for him, baby. God, you'd be such a pretty mommy. Mhm- let me make you a mama, c'mon, angel, I know we're young, b-but I'll make, make it happen. Umgh- for you.

And he'll pout and whine when you refuse to let him go raw, forcing him into a condom. He'll put every excuse in the book. It's too small, 'm too gifted for this tiny rubber, babes. Just lemme go in there, I swear I'll put out(((

He won't, that was a lie, but once you get to that point, where you're all sweaty, sex is heavy in the air, and your mind is all fuzzy, you won't care. You'll forget all about that stupid condom you were so adamant about a few minutes ago. And he's so, so, so glad you did, 'cause now he can let you have all of him, and I mean all of him. The thought of you all stuffed with his cum spurs him on, causing him to tighten his hold around your, already bruised thighs, and kiss up and down your belly, his muscular form hunched over your sweaty one.

LoveSick!Athlete just wants to be a daddy :( And you won't lie, the way he dots on his younger siblings causes your heart to clench; the idea of having a family, though you're both so young, becomes more and more appealing as the days pass by. You just know he would be a good father, you can tell by how his gaze softens with he sees a woman pushing a stroller or a toddler babbling on and on about some random bird they saw.

And he knows the same thoughts are flooding your mind, and he begs you to give in to them, but you always deny it, pushing his face away from yours. You are in college, trying to pursue a career, that you haven't even started, you don't have time for a family yet, you tell him, but all he hears is that you want to have a family with him, at some point. LoveSick!Athlete just has selective hearing, I suppose, as he just grabs your shoulders and gives you an excited smile. He leans close, whispering in your ear, so you do want to have kids? Yeah? I can make it happen; I can take care of you, just wait. I can wait, just for you. We'd be such good parents, babe.

Just wait, he'll convince you, eventually. He's very persuasive, me thinks ;)

#bad writing #lovesick #obsessive love #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #x reader #yandere male #baby fever is hitting hard #💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 #𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡'𝙨 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 #anon <3 #anon request #requests are open #send requests #yandere headcanons #tw; toxic love

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coopigeoncoo · 1 year

Text

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 1: Foolish Lover's Game

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Somnophilia, Drowning, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

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Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town. He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin. You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest. "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

It was an indescribably gorgeous day out in the water, the waves lapping at your shoulders were the perfect temperature to cool your sun-warmed skin without chilling you. The sky was a solid bright blue with no variation in its hue, making it look like whoever was in charge of coloring the sky that morning just stuck a paint sample card up and called it a day.

"We've been out here for a long time," you mentioned offhandedly, heaving yourself up onto your raft inelegantly, grunting as you struggled to get a leg up and roll onto the wildly bobbing flotation device.

"Oh!" Kirishima exclaimed, startled by how much the sun had shifted in the sky. "Yeah, we have! Geeze, it's already way past noon!"

Finally fully on your raft, you let out a whoosh of air as exhaustion settled into your muscles as you sprawled out under the warm sun.

"Do you wanna' try and squeeze up into the raft with me?" You offered, patting the narrow sliver of remaining raft at your side. "It'll be a snug fit, but we can make it work."

"As much as I'd love to join you up there, I don't think It'd be a good fit," Kirishima admitted regretfully, his throat bobbing as his eyes over the curve of your hip where your rash guard had crept up and exposed a strip of sun-warmed skin.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you laughed nervously, doing your best to banish the thought of the two of you on the raft together, limbs tangled up and chests pressing closer as you struggled to make room for each other. "I'm just worried your legs are getting tired."

"Why would they be?" Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow, snagging a bit of seagrass floating by and twirling it about on his finger.

"Because you've been treading water for hours now?"

"Oh, right! My legs are so tired right now!" He laughed uneasily, balling up and crushing the seagrass in his fist.

"Are you going to be okay to get back to shore? I'd hate for you to get caught in a current and be too tired to make it back to shore safely," you told him, concern seeping into your tone as you rested your hand across Kirishima's muscled forearm.

"I'll be fine," he beamed at you, gazing at you with soft eyes as he ran his thumb tenderly over the back of your hand. "But it's sweet that you're worried about me."

Breath catching somewhere in the vicinity of your diaphragm, you smile bashfully in response, turning your hand in his to lace your fingers tightly with his as the two of you lazily paddled back towards the shore.

It hadn't been in your plans to move in with your Grandpa after graduation, but it also hadn't been in your plans to be buried so deeply in educational debt you weren't sure you'd ever manage to pay it back. Your chosen field was competitive and potential employers weren't calling back, so with the move-out date for student housing fast approaching you weren't left with a ton of options.

Gran-Gran had passed a couple years prior and Gramps had done a good job carrying on without her, even though you tell by his wistful sigh when he walked by the framed photographs in the hallway that he missed her dearly. But as he marched steadily towards the end of his life the list of things he was able to do independently dwindled with each passing month. He'd nearly broken a hip during your final semester when he'd fallen off a chair trying to replace a burnt out bulb in his porch sconce.

That event had gotten the family chat buzzing with concern; people expressing their displeasure that he was living alone but unwilling to personally do anything to remedy the issue.

Suddenly flush with time, you'd loaded up your car and made the long trip up to the seaside house your Grandparents had lived in for far longer than you'd been alive. Your friends had been jealous of your relocation at first, imagining your new life to be the glamorous sort that they had seen in movies and the obligatory beach episodes of their favorite shows. Their excitement for you had quickly evaporated when you finally arrived and started sending them photos from your new town.

Every picture you sent was overwhelmingly brown. Everything from the buildings to the sand and even the ocean itself was a murky russet color, a far cry from the pristine blue they had been picturing in their heads. Even the food did its best to conform to the town's limited color palette; the beige of fresh fried seafood and potatoes that made up the majority of your meals made for a sad entry whenever you compared snapshots of meals.

It had saddened you at first, the oppressive brown atmosphere, but in the end it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The blandness of your surroundings had made you notice the brilliant crimson spot bobbing across the distant waves, a beacon luring you out into the water to investigate.

Hastily donning a life vest, you set out from shore on your trusty inflatable raft, making a horrifying discovery as you neared the mysterious red blob in the distance.

It was a person.

Ice cold panic crashed through your veins as you frantically paddled out towards the man, the head disappearing beneath the waves for longer and longer stretches of time, your lungs aching in sympathy for how long they were staying submerged between breaths.

After what felt like an eternity you were finally upon them, limbs shaking from adrenaline.

"Are you okay?" You called out, chest heaving from exertion.

The man spun towards you in the water, eyes wide in shock, before he let out an ear piercing shriek and disappeared beneath the waves with a large splash.

"Hey!" You screeched, shoving your arm down into the area where his head had submerged, bright red hair completely hidden by the murky ocean water. "Can you hear me? Swim towards my voice!"

Your shoulder was aching with how violently you were waving it about, desperate to make contact with the struggling man losing his fight with the sea.

"Please," you begged whatever Gods above or below might be listening. "Don't let me be too late- I couldn't paddle any faster! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You wailed, throwing yourself half over the side so you could reach in with your other arm, hoping to double your chances for finding the drowning man.

"If you can hear me, just- just hold on!" You cried, tears blurring your vision as salty water splashed across your face. "Please! Just grab hold of my hand! I won't let go, I promise!"

Uncountable, anxious moments passed before you felt fingers gently graze across your palm. You surged forward, wrapping both your hands around the man's wrist and then hauling yourself backwards, pulling the man towards the surface with all your might.

"I caught you!" You sobbed in delight when his head breached the surface. You tugged him further up to hang off the edge of your raft while you collapsed next to him, chest heaving in exhaustion.

"Yeah," the man gasped, looking at you with wide, dazed eyes. "I guess you did."

That man was Kirishima Eijiro and you two had been inseparable ever since, spending lazy days floating out on the ocean and enjoying each other's company. Sometimes you would lay quietly along the bottom of your raft, watching the horizon for the tell-tale spouting of water that heralded the arrival of a surfacing whale. Kirishima loved to show off his diving prowess when you were in shallower waters, sliding beneath the choppy waters with a sharp grin, returning moments later with interesting shells, bits of bone, and wriggling starfish with too many legs.

You had thought about asking him into town with you, but that notion was immediately discarded because what would you even do there? Visit the only restaurant in town that served the exact same fried fish your Grandpa made while you withered under the judgmental gazes of the old fishermen playing dominoes at the corner table?

Hard pass.

So you woke up before the sun with your Grandpa, dodging all his attempts to coax you into sitting on a whoopie cushion or trying out a new bottle of perfume you knew with utter certainty was just a dolled up bottle of fart spray; and paddled out in the early morning light to spend the beginning of the day with Kirishima. Once the sun's rays became unbearable you'd return to shore and join your Grandpa and his friends down on the dock, mending nets and patching crab pots while they doled out unsolicited life advice.

You accepted their wisdom with a polite nod, knowing that they meant well. Their own children and grandkids had left the town years ago and never looked back, so you were a convenient outlet for all the paternal advice they so rarely had the opportunity to dispense.

Days crawled by, each much the same as the one before, and you tried not to think about how easily you had settled into life in this moldering town that seemed to decay before your very eyes.

You expressed this to Kirishima; your worries and fears about identifying so strongly with a lifestyle that would likely be buried alongside the aging townsfolk.

"What will you do then?" He asked, staring intently into your eyes as his fingers tightly gripped the rope running around the side of your raft. "Will you stay? Even when your Grandfather is gone?"

You didn't like to think of it- of your Grandpa dying. He was such a spitfire of an old man whose playfully nature seemed immune to fading like his eyesight and hearing had.

"I don't know. But I think there might be more reasons to stay than to go," you whispered, returning his meaningful glance; the moment ruined by the choking squawk of seagulls passing overhead.

"Is there anything here, do you think? Between us?" You asked Kirishima one cloudy day, your nerves jumping as you mustered up the courage to broach the subject that had been on the forefront of your mind for weeks.

"Nah," Kirishima scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. Your stomach twists in on itself in embarrassment and you rush to find some excuse to change the subject when Kirishima continues talking. "There was a shark around earlier, but it's gone now."

"Wait, what?" You screech, tucking your legs up to your chest protectively. "There was a shark and you didn't think to tell me?"

"You didn't notice?" He asks, face scrunched up in confusion. "Weird."

"It's not weird! How would I even be able to notice something like that? You can't see anything in this water! Did you like, kick it or something?"

"Yes," Kirishima coughs uneasily. "I know it was there because I kicked it. With my feet. Of which I have two."

"Oh God, it was that close?" You whine, burying your face into your hands while Kirishima seemed to be experiencing a delayed revelation.

"Hold on- what were you talking about before if it wasn't the shark?"

"Oh, uh," you stammer uneasily, fiddling with the zipper of the emergency bag strapped to your waist. "Nothing! Don't worry about it."

"Were you talking about us, us?" Kirishima groaned, rubbing a wet hand down his face with a rugged groan. "Oh, man! I've totally messed this up, haven't I?"

"No! Of course not!" You quickly reassured him, still not brave enough to meet his eyes after his casual rejection. "This is all on me. I shouldn't have assumed- I should have realized that what I was feeling was one-sided."

"Hush," Kirishima rumbled, a gravely sort of sound that sent shivers down your spine. Fingers ran across your forearm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake as you hesitantly lifted your gaze to his.

"Whatever feelings you have- however you might see me, believe me when I say that I feel the same."

"So, we're friends," you offer tentatively with a wobbly smile.

"The very best," Kirishima agreed readily.

"And…also something more? If you'd like?"

"Oh, I'd like that," he grinned wildly. "I'd like that very much."

Grandpa wasn't in a good way when he woke, his joints stiffer than normal and a delay in the movement on his left side that had you contemplating loading him up into your beater of a car and driving him inland to find a doctor. You decided to spend the morning with him, despite his colorful protests, and called down to the dock to let his friends know that he was alright.

You could tell he was frustrated by the shaking of his hand and how often he had dropped his toothbrush in the sink, so you let him slip you a piece of chewing gum that turned your teeth black in an effort to cheer him up. He was delighted by your coal-black smile, letting out a wheezing guffaw every time you grinned at him. Your teeth would be a touch gray for a couple of days, but it was worth it to see your Grandpa's spirits bolstered.

After escorting Gramps down to the docks and fetching him a large glass of water, you bid the group of old curmudgeons farewell and darted down to the shore. Kirishima didn't own a phone, which was usual in this day and age, but not unheard of in the area. Paranoia ran thick through people's blood and many of the old guard were happiest living as far off-grid as they could reasonably manage. Kirishima's lack of phone wasn't typically an issue so long as you stuck to your established routine, but it did make it difficult to coordinate whenever things went awry.

Hands cupped above your eyes, you peered out into the water and saw Kirishima's brilliant red hair far closer to shore than was typical. He was swimming back and forth in tight circles as if he was pacing, anxiously awaiting your arrival.

You raised your hands above your head and waved frantically to catch his attention, snorting in amusement when he finally noticed you and lost his focus, getting pushed under water by a passing wave.

"That yer friend?" One of the old men combing the beach with a metal detector asked.

"Sure is," you reply tightly, not thrilled by the notion of your personal life becoming this week's town gossip fodder.

"Be careful with that one," the man warned with a snort, hocking a thick brown loogie down onto the sand by your feet. "He's got red hair. That's bad luck out on a boat."

"Everything is bad luck out on a boat," you mutter sourly.

"Yer not wrong," the old man wheezed in amusement. "Just be careful. The sea is greedy for beautiful things, and yer the prettiest thing that's been 'round here in a long, long time."

"Aww," you coo, savoring the way the rare compliment settled warmly in your chest.

"Don't let it go to yer head," the man sniffed, pulling his headset back over his ears as his wand started beeping enthusiastically about something further inland. "Yer just a fairer sight than the rest of us old farts, but that ain't saying much."

"I hope you find nothing but bottle caps until the day you die," you grumble peevishly, blowing a dramatic kiss out to Kirishima, who dove to catch it in midair before holding it fast to his heart.

"If only," the man sighed as he limped away. "But I ain't never been that lucky."

You were startled by your Grandpa coughing loudly while he worked on slicing up his fish fry into bite sized pieces.

"One of the boys told me they saw you out on the beach this morning," he said, dipping a small piece of fish into a heaping pile of ketchup and horseradish.

"Of course they did. You're all a bunch of nosey busy bodies," you huff in irritation, shoving a large spoonful of canned peas into your mouth and wincing at their lack of flavor.

"I trust you and your judgment," Grandpa assured you as you picked up the salt shaker in the middle of the table. "But just be careful, alright? I've been a man for many years now and up to no good for nearly all of them."

"I will, Gramps. Thanks for worrying," you said with a smile, giving the shaker a hearty jiggle and watching in horror as the lid fell clean off into your peas along with the entire contents of the salt shaker.

"Ya' see?" Gramps hollered, slapping his knee in delight. "Totally untrustworthy- the lot of us!"

Your relationship with Kirishima, while good, was innocent on the best days and positively chaste on the worst. You had vivid memories of participating in far more brazen displays of affection with your middle school boyfriend than what Kirishima seemed comfortable with.

Wandering hands were constantly redirected to areas safely above the water line and attempts at kisses were redirected at the last moment onto turned cheeks and noses.

You didn't mind the slow pace at first, respecting Kirishima's personal boundaries and desire to not rush into anything physical. But as the weeks ticked by the speed of your developing relationship shifted from glacial to stagnant, you couldn't help but be frustrated and more than a little confused.

"Ugh!" You screeched in irritation when your kiss landed across his jaw instead of your intended target of his lips. With a huff, you push on Kirishima's shoulders to propel yourself backwards in the water and away from him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brow wrinkled in confusion as he reached out for you, hands flexing in a grabby motion to lure you back to him.

"That's what I want to know!" You yell, slamming your hands down on the surface of the water, the sudden impact stinging your skin. "You just push me away every time I try to get close to you!"

"I- I'm sorry," Kirishima whimpers.

"Do you- do you want to break up?" You ask, voice quiet and cracking.

"No! No, of course not!" Kirishima rushes to reassure you, closing the distance between you in an instant, pulling you against his chest and running comforting fingers across your cheeks, leaving trails of water in their wake. "I care about you so much."

"Then what's going on?" You sniff miserably, nuzzling the space between Kirishima's pecs to comfort yourself. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I just- I feel really bad when I try to kiss you."

"Really not helping out my self-confidence here, Eijiro," you wince, the sound of his heart beat thundering under your ear.

"Ah, geez! No! Not like that! I just, maybe, haven't been completely honest with you about something," he admits hesitantly. "And I feel guilty."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he shifts uneasily, kicking up a strong current that lashes against your legs. "It doesn't feel right, getting closer to you while I'm keeping a secret."

"Can you tell me? Your secret, I mean," You ask hesitantly, staring up into his warm eyes.

"I want to," he says, dropping his forehead down onto yours with a heavy thunk that sends stars flying across your vision. "I'm just scared."

"You don't have to be scared," you assured him honestly, looping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. "I'm already halfway in love with you. It'll take a lot to frighten me away."

"Yeah," Kirishima sighed morosely. "I know."

Kirishima wrapped the tow line of your raft around his chest and swam out towards a rocky outcropping further up the shore and away from town. You hadn't explored this far North before because the tides were fairly strong in this area and it was easier on your arms to drift and explore the areas to the South.

"Here we are," Eijiro announced, lashing the rope of your boat around a half-rotten piling; evidence of a past pier claimed by the sea. You scuttled out of your raft as smoothly as you could, the waves breaking on the rocks making your exit maneuvers more bumbling than you would have liked. But you managed to get to the top of the slick rocks without slipping, so it was an overall win in your book.

"Alright," you said with a firm head nod, focusing on Eijiro's serious expression and not the unpleasant feeling of algae squishing under your hands. "What is it you want to tell me?"

"Okay," Kirishima sighed, his chest visibly sinking with the force of his exhale. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, just- give me a minute?" He squeaked, running his shaking hands through his damp hair, the bright red tresses clumping together into rows between his fingers. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"Maybe just say it really quick?" You offer. "Just get it over with- like pulling off a bandaid."

"A what?"

"Do you…not know what a bandaid is?" You ask, utterly flummoxed by his question.

"Not important right now," Kirishima waved his hand dismissively. "We'll circle back to that later."

"Of course. Right. We need to stay focused here."

Moments pass in silence as you wiggle your fingers in the squishy algae beneath you while Kirishima's skin seems to turn ghastly pale before your eyes. You were about to ask if he was okay when he suddenly released a powerful roar that seemed to rattle your bones with its intensity.

"C'mon, Kirishima! Man up! You've got this!" He bellowed, suddenly pointing at you with one of his long fingers. "Are you ready!?"

"I-," You stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Yes?"

"That's the spirit!" He cheered, pumping a fist into the air. "Here I come!"

And then Kirishima surged up and out of the water, his arms tensing as he caught the edge of the rock face and began pulling himself up in an impressive show of strength. He scrambled for purchase across the slippery stone, eventually letting out a triumphant grunt when he found a foothold and was able to push himself up.

And up.

Kirishima was towering high above you now, his torso stretched far above where a normal human chest would be. His monumental form blocked out the sun and cast a shadow down onto your shivering body- either from the sudden chill of the shade or the prickles of fear jolting down your spine; you weren't entirely certain.

As your eyes trailed down his elongated body it suddenly became clear as to why you'd never seen Eijiro out of the water.

Starting at his waist and proceeding downwards were rows and rows of chitinous plating that nestled and slotted I to each other to form a massive lobster tail. Eight spindly legs clicked loudly across the rock as he swayed nervously from side to side; arms crossing and uncrossing as he waited for you to respond.

Overwhelmed by his revelation, you inhaled a great shaky breath and promptly burst into tears.

"H-hey," Kirishima stuttered, reaching for you on instinct; second guessing his actions at the last moment and pulling his hands away with a pained grimace. "It's okay! I know I look scary, but I promise I won't hurt you!"

"It's not- it's not that," you wailed, blowing your nose into the hem of your rash guard. "I could never be scared of you, Eijiro!"

"Spirits be praised," Kirishima whispered, visibly deflating in relief as his arms shot out once again to embrace you, running his hands soothingly down your back as he made quiet shushing noises to soothe you. "If you aren't scared, then why are you so upset?"

"Because I'm allergic to shellfish!" You cried, burying your face into his shoulder as another wave of sobs overtook you.

"I don't- what does that mean?"

"It means that lobsters make me sick!"

"Oh," Kirishima muttered numbly, his hands stilling against your back as dread welled up in his belly. "Well, shit."

The two of you lay sprawled out on that rocky outcropping, idly watching the clouds shift by. Kirishima was on his back, his numerous lobster legs folded and tucked close to his body while his feathery swimmerets fluttered anxiously in the air.

"So, how allergic are you exactly?" Kirishima asked, his tail slapping against the ground mindlessly as his thoughts raced.

"Allergic enough to carry this," you sighed as you unzipped your emergency pack and pulled out an EpiPen. "I've had to carry one ever since I was a kid. I used to eat a ton of lobster- wait. That must sound awful to you!"

"Nah," Kirishima said, waving off your distress with a hand and a couple of legs thrown in for good measure. "I eat lobsters all the time. They're delicious."

"I- well. Okay, then," you replied uneasily, trying not to dwell on the potential moral ramifications of Kirishima's lobster consumption. "Anyway, I had ordered some lobster tails like I normally did, but once I started eating them I began itching like crazy. I've avoided shellfish ever since."

Kirishima blew out a frustrated breath as his hand crept towards you, weaving his fingers through yours.

"What are we going to do?" Eijiro murmured dejectedly, squeezing your hand tightly as the clouds tumbled through the sky above you.

"I don't know."

#eijiro kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro x y/n #eijirou x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #pigeoncoos🕊#bnha x self insert #mha x female reader

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bookworm551 · 1 year

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The Great War | Part 3 | Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam were childhood friends, always looking out for each other, but when the Sky People returned, neither of you could have anticipated the way it would affect your relationship with one another.

A/N: Like I said, you weren’t going to have to wait very long for this part since I had written it along side part 2. Thank you to everyone who replied on my previous parts, y’all are awesome! Here’s some more for you, including some lovely Kiri content. I’ve got the next part mostly done too, so hang in there. Also, I may or may not do a spicy part 5. What do y’all think?

4.2k words

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, mentions of death

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Three days later was the day of the mission which you weren't allowed to join. It was one of the largest offensive attacks that Jake had organized, with several dozen members of the Omatikaya enlisted to help fight, but not you.

In that time, you had avoided Neteyam like he was death itself. He had tried to approach you a couple of times, but each time you simply walked away. When he would try and follow you, you would find a friend to talk to, making it awkward for him to try to speak with you. Each of his siblings had tried talking to you to figure out what happened between you and their older brother, including Tuk, but they each got the same deadpan answer of, "I'm not talking about this."

He even went so far as to speak with your father, a fairly introverted Na'vi who became even more withdrawn after the death of his mate. You were somewhat startled when he tried talking to you about Neteyam, but you quickly shut him down much to your father's surprise.

"He is one of your oldest friends," he pointed out as you were eating together one night. "You should speak with him about what happened." You bit into your food in annoyance and after a moment of silence, you responded gravely, "He is not my friend anymore." The words tasted bitter as you spoke them, and it broke your heart, but there was one thing you had found value in yourself; your ability to fight. And he had taken it from you. You couldn't forgive him for that.

On the day of the battle, you didn't see Neteyam or any of the other warriors off when they left for the attack. Instead, you had busied yourself with weaving a blanket on the loom that had been in your family for generations. There weren't a lot of quiet skills that you excelled at, but this was one of them. You tried not to think about the war party as you worked in silence, instead, thinking of what you could work on next to stay occupied.

As you continued working, you heard someone enter your tent. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Kiri walk in. Immediately, you were on guard, but you didn't try to send her off.

"It looks beautiful," she complimented your progress kindly. You gave her a suspicious look before turning back to your work on your loom. "I'm not talking about Neteyam," you told her dully. "Neither am I," she countered, sitting at your side. "I'm talking about your blanket."

You scoffed quietly. You were very defensive around her and her siblings, and you weren't convinced that she came just to talk about your weaving abilities. Despite your misgivings, you decided to try having a normal conversation.

"This loom was created by my father's grandfather," you told her after a moment of silence had passed. "The skill of weaving has been passed down through my family for many generations. It makes me feel closer to my ancestors." Kiri watched as your fingers moved expertly across the threads. "I understand," she replied sincerely. "I enjoy learning about Eywa and the art of healing from my grandmother."

You nodded quietly. "You would make an excellent Tsahik," you told her. Though the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik were usually a mated pair, it was not uncommon for the roles to fall to separate members of a tribe. Such was the current case in your tribe, as Mo'at was the current Tsahik, while her daughter's son was Olo'eyktan. So, too, was it within reason that the next tribe leader and spiritual leader could be brother and sister.

"Perhaps," she said modestly, "though I still have much to learn before then." She paused, and you could feel her gaze on you. "So does my brother before he takes my father's mantle." Your mood instantly dropped at the mention of Neteyam. "I told you that I'm not talking about—"

"He told me everything."

Your hands stopped working. Irritation burned through your chest, and you ground your teeth to keep from cursing. "Of course he did," you muttered angrily as you continued your work, not looking at Kiri.

"To his credit," she defended, "he was resolved not to say anything." She then smugly added, "I had to violently threaten him to get the truth out of him." You smirked despite yourself. Kiri was probably one of the most passive members of the Omatikaya, and the thought of her doing anything violent to her warrior brother was comical. The truth was that she had probably threatened to involve their mother, and that would be enough to get him to talk.

"Listen," she said gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. You paused your work. "I know better than most that my brother can be a skxawng. He always believes he is right, and he hates not being in control of a situation." You sighed in exasperation, knowing that her description was painfully accurate. She continued, "But I also know that he is like that because he cares so much about the people around him, and he is absolutely terrified of losing you."

You close your eyes, your hurt and sadness resurfacing after all your effort to suppress it the past few days. "He thinks he is protecting you, but he cannot see that he is pushing you away," she said. Her words made sense. Deep down, you knew that he did what he did to keep you safe, but it was the fact that he broke your trust that made you never want to speak with him again.

"He had no right—," your voice cracked. You took a breath and tried again. "He had no right to speak to your father about it. I should be out there fighting with them, not stuck here being grounded and useless." You felt tears prick at your eyes, and you huffed in exasperation. You did not want to cry now.

"He should not have betrayed your trust," Kiri agreed solemnly. "That was wrong for him to do. But you are more than a warrior, and you are not useless." You scoffed, but she pushed at your shoulder so that you faced her better. "You are an excellent hunter and possess a great talent for craftsmanship," she told you earnestly, gesturing to the detailed patterns on your partially finished blanket. "You are well-liked and respected among the People, and you are one of my dearest friends."

You glanced up at her face, taking in the avatar-like features that made her stand out amongst the other Na'vi. Even though she was barely into her adulthood, she had a mature countenance that surpassed all the other clan members your age. Her voice was deep and sincere as she spoke to you, causing your defensive attitude to start to crumble.

You shook your head softly. "I don't feel valuable when I'm here," you confessed quietly. "I feel that my only useful skill is to fight." She looked at you sadly. "That is not the truth," she argued gently. "What will you do if the Sky People leave, and there is no more war?"

You blinked. You had been so consumed with defeating the invasive humans that you hadn't considered what would happen next. Everything seemed to revolve around the war, so thinking of a future without it was difficult for you to imagine. Kiri didn't say anything as you contemplated her question. "I don't know," you admitted finally. "I never really thought about what happens after." She didn't say anything, she just sat and watched you carefully.

"I suppose," you began hesitatingly, "I suppose since I lost my mother, I have only been focused on the war. I have not given much thought to anything else." Kiri tilted her head slightly sideways in mild curiosity. "You've never thought about your future?" She asked.

"I've thought about my Uniltaron trial," you responded. "But now, even that has been taken away until your grandmother gives her blessing again." Kiri gave you a look of mild exasperation. "That is not what I meant when I said your future," she told you.

Ah.

You used to daydream about how your life would look like when you were grown. You would think about having a mate, harboring a secret hope that you would find one in your best friend. You would wonder about the life you would have. Would you have a family? Would you be able to see a world beyond the forest? You stopped asking yourself questions like that when the war came and left its ugly stain on your life.

"I haven't thought about such things in a long time," you said quietly to Kiri. She let out a sympathetic sigh. "It's hard to think about right now when everything is so unclear," she admitted. "But in such uncertain times, we must stick together as one People." She grabbed your hand with her own five-fingered one.

"I won't ask for you to talk to him," she clarified, "or to forgive him. But I want you to know that holding on will not make anything about this bleak situation any better." You looked away from her gentle gaze. You knew she was right, but there was nothing Eywa had made stronger than your stubbornness.

"I don't know how to let go," you admitted after a second. "Every time I think about it, I am refilled with anger." You rubbed your face in exasperation. "I don't know how to face him after what he did to me." Kiri squeezed your hand. "I can't tell you what to do," she said slowly. "It is for you to decide."

Looking down at your clasped hands, you meditated on all the negative feelings you had: anger, hurt, sadness, longing. It was overwhelming. "I just feel lost," you whispered emotionally. Kiri frowned sadly and pulled you into a tight hug. You felt all the emotions rise up in your throat as your friend held you. "That's okay," she whispered back. You pulled her tighter and felt tears run down your cheeks, but you tried to rein in your emotions.

"He misses you."

Three words and all your defenses came down, and you started shaking with sobs. You released all of your longing and pain into your breakdown. All the rage you felt towards the humans who took away your mother, all the frustration you had about your injury, and all the hurt feelings of Neteyam's betrayal came flooding out of you in one cathartic cry. Kiri held you the whole time, rubbing your back comfortingly. Breathing in ragged breaths, you finally choked out, "I miss him too."

After you were able to regain your composure somewhat, you pulled back and saw that Kiri had also been crying with you, albeit quietly. You wiped your face and tried to even out your breathing. "Thank you," you told her finally, your voice hoarse from crying. She wiped her own tears and smiled at you. "Of course," she said softly.

Kiri stayed with you for a while longer before you asked for some privacy. Feeling emotionally drained, you decided to rest for a time. You felt less burdened now that you had confided in her. You thought about what she had said regarding your grudge against her brother, and you felt the truth of it in your heart. Holding onto your anger towards him was not only hurting him, but it was also slowly killing you, too. With that thought in mind, you fell asleep.

You were awoken by the sounds of excited and anxious voices outside. Feeling better after your nap, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pushed out of your tent. Dozens of people were rushing towards the front of the camp hurriedly. The war party must have returned.

Joining in with the crowd, you pushed your way to the entrance of the cave. Though you weren't quite ready to forgive Neteyam for what he had done, you still wanted to speak with him so that he at least had the opportunity to apologize, and maybe then could you could work towards some form of resolution.

Taking in the scene of the returning warriors, you were immediately alarmed by what you saw. There were many warriors who had left on this mission, but there was just over half that number presently settling back into camp. Your heart sank. This was a heavy loss, perhaps the worst your people had suffered in a battle since the Sky People had returned.

Pushing through the crowd, you looked around desperately for your friends, specifically Neteyam. You spotted Lo'ak as he landed, but before you could call out to him, he immediately jumped off of his ikran and ran over to where his mother had just landed, holding a figure in her arms.

Your world stopped when you realized it was Neteyam.

You stood rooted to the spot in horror. He was hunched over in front of Neytiri with his eyes screwed shut in pain. He was gripping at his right shoulder weakly, and you saw to your dismay a large glass shard had lodged itself upwards into his chest.

Neytiri, as carefully and urgently as she could, pulled her son from her ikran. "Mother!" She cried out frantically, looking around desperately for the Tsahik. Mo'at pushed her way forward and took in the sight of her grandson with a sharp breath. "Come quickly," she told them before turning to Kiri with a quick order to prepare certain herbs and medicines for Neteyam.

Stumbling forward, Neteyam followed their leading hands toward the medical tents. He was leaning on his mother's strong figure as he walked slowly upwards. The crowd had parted to let them pass, and gasps rose up from people as they saw the serious injury he had.

You couldn't move, couldn't speak. You wanted to do something, anything, but your arms and legs felt like lead, and your voice was stuck in your throat. Neteyam's eyes passed over the crowd in an unfocused daze, but when they glanced at you, he seemed to zone in on your face.

You saw him mouth your name, then, as he passed by, you heard him say in a ragged voice, "I'm sorry." Hearing him seemed to snap you out of your paralysis. Shoving through the crowd, you did your best to keep up with him and his family towards the healing tent, but more and more people were showing up to see the war party, making it difficult.

You finally made it out of the sea of people as Neteyam was entering the tent. You tried to follow them in, but Kiri stood blocking your way. "You need to go," she told you, gripping your shoulders tightly. You shook your head desperately. "No," you begged. "No, please, let me in." Her grip tightened, and her voice hardened. "You need to go," she repeated. Looking at her face, you could see the fear in her eyes, and it made your resolution falter.

"No, Kiri," Neteyam's pained voice called out from behind her. "I want— I want her here." Kiri hesitated for a moment before dropping her arms and letting you in. You immediately rushed to his side. He was heaving in uneven breaths, his whole face contorted in pain.

"Neteyam," you whispered his name emotionally, cupping his face in your hand. He opened his eyes for a second to look at you, raising his left hand to you. You instantly took it, and he closed his eyes in another pained grimace. "I'm sorry," he panted. "I'm sorry for everything." Tears gathered in your eyes. You had wanted an apology from him earlier, and now it was a cruel irony that he was giving it to you with a large glass stake in his chest.

Gripping his hand tightly, you brought it up to your cheek, holding onto his wrist with your other hand. You couldn't speak with all the emotions in your throat. This couldn't be happening. He didn't do stupid things like get hurt. Now, in addition to all the anger and hurt you'd been swimming in the past few days, you were hit by an overpowering wave of fear.

Around you, Mo'at and Kiri moved quickly to set up everything they needed to remove the glass shard and to treat the wound it left. Neytiri sat opposite of you on Neteyam's right side and held his other hand, whispering prayers to Eywa.

Mo'at moved in closer to his head, setting down bowls full of poultices and towels nearby to help treat the wound. "We are going to remove this," she warned him. He nodded his head, his breathing increasing as he anticipated the pain of the extraction. "Hold him down," Mo'at ordered. Kiri pressed down on his left shoulder next to you with most of her weight and place a steadying hand on his forehead.

Without any other warning, Mo'at pulled the shard out of its lodge. Neteyam instantly reacted, squeezing your hand so tight, you thought it would break. His cries of pain seethed through tightly clenched teeth. The two healers worked with dizzying speed once the glass was removed.

In the midst of the chaos, you heard someone at the tent. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Jake standing at the entrance. He looked like he'd been through hell, and now he was staring down at his injured son in distress. "How is he?" He asked quickly. You shook your head uncertainly.

Behind Jake, Tuk came in to see her brother. "Is he okay?" She asked in a small voice. Before anyone could answer, Mo'at said sternly, "Too many people." You understood your place was not there amongst the family, so you moved to get up and leave, but Neteyam kept his grip on your hand. With a grunt, he pulled you back down and whispered, "No."

Your heart ached. It was just a few hours ago that you were resolved to never speak to him again, but now, you were desperately holding onto every word he managed to say. How could you have been so stubborn? Guilt gnawed at your heart, and you gripped his hand tightly.

Jake saw his son's reaction. With a quick nod to Neytiri, he decided that he would be the one to go. Guiding Tuk out gently, he gave her some comforting words to calm her down.

You weren't sure how long the healers worked, but it seemed to stretch on for an eternity. After removing the glass piece, they gave Neteyam a sleeping draught that knocked him out almost immediately. While he was asleep, they continued working on him to stop the overflowing blood and stitch the wound together. The glass had left a clean, straight cut in his muscle, but Mo'at had determined that nothing vital had been damaged.

With the wound mended and patched up, the two exhausted healers took a break to check up on the other wounded. Neytiri had gotten up to find her mate and other children to check up on them. You never left his side, and you couldn't take your eyes off his unconscious face most of the time. Now it was only you and the resting warrior in the tent. You told the others that you would stay until he woke up and alert them of his consciousness.

You sat cross-legged next to him with a prayer cord in your hands. It was a leather band cut into five strips that you braided as you sang a song to Eywa. The song you were singing quietly to yourself was the prayer of healing. Your fingers braided expertly as you sang, and you zoned out so completely that you didn't even notice Neteyam stirring next to you.

"I've never heard you sing before," he commented quietly, breaking you out of your reverie with a start as you finished the song and the braid. "It's very nice." Under any other circumstances, you would have been embarrassed, but you were so relieved to hear his voice, it didn't even matter.

"You're awake," you gasped softly. "How do you feel?" He grunted in pain before responding, "Never better." You sighed and rubbed your face, feeling slightly relieved at his sarcasm. With your relief came the exhaustion you had been fighting off for hours, not to mention the emotional weariness that had taken its toll on your spirit as well.

"You look terrible," he said with a faint smile. You looked over at him before slightly smiling back. "You look worse," you responded. His wittiness was more than welcome to you after watching him writhe in pain just a few hours before. Looking at him now, you felt all the remorse in your heart for pushing him away. You never would have forgiven yourself if something worse had happened to him.

"Neteyam, I—"

He held up a hand to stop you. "Don't," he whispered softly. "Let me speak first." You swallowed your words and nodded silently. You remembered how he had apologized to you earlier as he was being carried away, so you figured he probably wanted to get it off of his chest now that he wasn't in a chaotic scenario anymore.

He dropped his hand down to rest on your knee, tracing his fingers gently across your skin. He sighed and looked up at you. "I do not know how to tell you how sorry I am," he began. "I knew you wanted to fight, but I was afraid that something would happen to you again if you went back into battle."

He paused, thinking about the past few weeks since your accident. "I have been living in fear every day since your injury," he admitted quietly. "I could not focus on anything except making sure you were safe. So, when you told me about your migraines, I felt justified in telling my father to keep you out of danger."

His words were hard for you to hear. It still made you upset knowing he intentionally betrayed your trust, but you listened intently to what he was saying.

"I see now that I have been trying to control something that only Eywa has power over," he said. "You had every right to be angry with me, and I am very sorry for what I did." You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. After a moment, you opened them and looked down at your injured friend.

"I was angry," you agreed. "I was angry because for so long, I have only ever felt that I was useful when I fought in the war. So much of who I am stems from being a warrior and fighting the Sky People." You paused to think about your conversation with Kiri, and how your self-worth came from your identity as a warrior. "When I was taken out of the war party, I felt so lost, like I didn't have any other purpose or use," you continued. "I felt helpless and worthless."

Neteyam looked up at you with sadness. "You are not worthless," he insisted quietly. "You are precious to me, even if you could never fight again. That is why I told my father so that I would never lose you." He was staring at where his fingers were tracing over your leg, and you could see in his face that he was reflecting on the days since you last spoke. "I did not realize that by telling him, I would lose you anyway," he finished sadly.

His words made your throat tighten, and your eyes squeezed shut as tears threatened to spill over. You had to take a few breaths to steady yourself again.

"I am sorry I pushed you away," you told him finally. He shook his head at that. "No, I pushed you away," he said. "I never should have told my father. You were right to react the way you did." You didn't know what to say, so you didn't respond, looking down at him regretfully. He reached up his hand to trace the side of your face slowly and gently. "I will never push you away again," he whispered.

Your breath faltered at his touch, and for a second, you sat in silence, unable to speak. You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes for a moment. "I missed you," you said at last. "I don't want to fight anymore." He was looking up at you tenderly. "Never again," he agreed.

A loud voice walked by the entrance of the tent, pulling you from your quiet, intimate moment. "I should get your family," you told him quietly. He dropped his hand back to his side and nodded reluctantly.

You stood up to leave, but you paused and looked down at him. "I forgive you," you said earnestly. "For everything." His eyes held yours for a moment, relief and tenderness shining in them. "Thank you," he whispered. It was barely audible, but it punctured all of the tension in your chest. Then, with a small smile, you added, "That includes you almost dying." He grinned at you. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, too," he said.

You shook your head with a smile, and you walked out to go find his family.

Next part

#avatar #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam sully #loak sully #avatar the way of water #kiri sully #avatar fanfiction

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vickyvicarious · 7 months

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So I've been rewatching a lot of period dramas lately and this got me thinking, Arthur's clearly from the upper class, but does the book ever actually specify what his title refers to? Viscount, baron, etc...? And Lucy's a socialite and would therefore be some kind of aristocrat, but I don't think the book ever gives specifics on her family background either, but correct me if I'm wrong! And while I'm at it, would the rest of the Crew be considered middle or working class?

Hmm, so I am definitely not one who has the best grasp of all these nuances myself, so I happily welcome any others who know more and want to correct me or add in what they know! That said, here's what I think...

Arthur is repeatedly referred to as 'Lord Godalming', at least once his father dies. That means he is officially a 'peer', a member of the House of Lords. There's several different ranks within this category though, and based on title alone he could be most of them (since most were commonly called 'Lord'). I found a post talking about the peerage for the context of the Sherlock Holmes stories which I think is pretty easy to understand, especially the little table of titles/roles.

Going off that source, it says that "all children of viscounts and barons were called the Honourable;" and when Jonathan is talking to Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the guy says this: "We once carried out a small matter of renting some chambers for him when he was the Honourable Arthur Holmwood." That would suggest that Art is either a viscount or a baron. Of the two I would lean towards viscount, simply because I think he is in the upper half of the hierarchy based on the way side characters tend to react to him. I don't know if there was ever any leeway to call the eldest/only son of an earl by that title, but if so then I kinda want him to be that, purely because it is the British equivalent of a count, and that would be a really neat tie-in to the various ways Arthur is contrasted to Dracula as good/bad nobility. (I could talk more on that but it probably deserves to be a separate post.) Admittedly I don't know enough about the nuance of relationships between different classes to know how high up the ladder he can go before his association with the others here would start raising eyebrows, but I like the idea a lot.

Arthur is the only character other than Dracula to get a (non-academic) title, so I don't think any of the other characters would be part of the peerage. However, I do think Quincey is very rich and probably of somewhat equivalent status for an American. I think Lucy is probably not officially there, because otherwise I feel like either she or Mrs. Westerna would have been addressed as 'lady' at some point, if only by people meeting them for the first time or who don't know them well. However, she's definitely of a social class where he association with Arthur is very acceptable, so she had to have been well-off. I imagine her from a well-established family who might not have a title but is still certainly part of the respectable crowd. Or if she did have a rank it would be lower but not outrageously so.

I think Jack would also be pretty equivalent to Lucy, since she introduces him as "well off, and of good birth" and his close association with both Arthur and Quincey would suggest he is certainly respectable enough to hang out with them/propose to the same woman. Lucy suggesting him as a possible option for Mina to marry if it weren't for Jonathan suggests that Mina might also have a nicer family background (as does, potentially, her friendship with Lucy). But if so, then her current status as orphan who works for a living and expects to have to make ends meet with Jonathan suggests that her family must have fallen on hard times and whatever respectability there was to her name is more lingering compared to the reality of her current situation. That's my best guess, but honestly it's kinda tricky to figure out and other people who know more about the time have been confused too.

I think Jonathan is definitely of the lowest class amongst our main cast. You can see this reflected as well in how they tend to address him more casually ("Harker") while he uses some form of title when speaking to the others ("Dr. Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Morris"). He doesn't speak of his parents much, but we know he worked for Mr. Hawkins from a fairly young age, and started out as a clerk until recently, which was not a particularly well-paying job. I think he and Mina would be considered on the lower end of middle class - at least before they inherited everything Mr. Hawkins had, which it sounds like is a comfortable existence if not the extravagances that other characters would be more used to. That might bring them up closer to some of the other nontitled people, though not as high.

#dracula daily #arthur holmwood #lucy westenra #jack seward #mina murray #jonathan harker #anonymous #replies #just realized i didn't talk van helsing. i also think he's in the same general area as lucy and jack probably #but since he's dutch there may be differences there too

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

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This Is Kinda Nice Too (2)

So I know I have requests to be working on - and I am - every request I currently have has a plan sketched out for it, I just need time to get them all written up.

In the meantime, however, I couldn't get this little idea to continue a previous request out of my head, so here it is. Part three may or may not make its way into being.

Can be read alone, but best read as as the follow up to the below (also if these inserted links look odd I'm sorry but it's the only way I know how atm)

You’re not a morning person at the best of times, and a night on a lumpy, creaky camp bed certainly hasn’t changed that. You studiously ignore Janine’s chirpy ‘good morning’, making a mental note to apologise later once you’ve been properly caffeinated.

Speaking of which, there seems to be a distinct lack of a fire going and so currently no boiling water to make the dream of a cup of tea into reality. Not bothering to ask for help or wait for anyone else, you move as quickly as you ever do in the morning to set a new fire going.

You’re making decent progress when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder and a steaming cup of tea is brought into your line of vision. The rumours really were true when they said Barb was a Saint.

“How?”

“There’s an electrical outlet in the little cabin I’m in,” she smiled, settling herself on one of the camp chairs closest to the fire, hands cradled round her own cup of coffee. “I called ahead to check and packed a little travel kettle.”

“If you weren’t already married I’d be proposing right now,” you tell her as you take your first sip of tea. It’s perfect. It’s too perfect. It’s your exact morning tea precisely how you take it. Barbara Howard has never made you a cup of tea in your life. You frown as you lower your cup, meeting Barb’s knowing smile.

“Melissa made it,” she offers by way of an explanation.

You’re not quite sure what to think about that, but it makes you smile. A few moments later the mysterious red head herself appears out of Barb’s tiny cabin, her own mug of coffee in hand. The Kindergarten teacher had the only ‘cabin’, after trying to get out of the trip saying she was too old for camping. Cabin was perhaps a strong word for the small wooden hut, but it did at least boast running water and electricity. The smaller wooden camping pods laid out around it weren’t quite so luxurious, but they were at least wind and watertight.

“I hate to say it, but I think I might be too old to sleep on a camp bed,” groans Melissa as she stretches.

You chuckle. “I don’t think anyone is young enough to get a decent night’s sleep on those beds if yours is anything like mine.”

“Ava, this is not breakfast,” Melissa says flatly as she looks dubiously at the small packet she has been handed by the Principal.

“Of course it is,” the younger woman snaps back. “It says ‘breakfast bar’ right there on the front. Besides, gotta have portable snacks so we can get our scavenger hunt on!”

This gets a collective groan from the group. Ava ignores this and proceeds to fetch a folder.

“Okay, now everyone come get a sheet and take a pencil. The pencils have numbers on them that’ll tell y’all who you’re paired up with. Now remember, it’s not just about collecting all the items on the list, it’s about getting to the end point in the quickest time.”

You end up with Barb and Jacob. Could be better, could be worse, you figure. You look over to see Janine with a look of genuine worry on her features as she looks from her numbered pencil to Melissa, who’s eyebrows are hiked impressively high on her forehead. There might be one less member of your little Abbott family around the campfire tonight if her murderous expression is anything to go by.

Barb, ever the peacekeeper moves forward. You expect her to offer to swap with Janine, so what she says next comes as a surprise.

“Oh Janine, I was hoping you’d end up in my little group. I thought it would give us time to talk. We haven’t had a chance of late with school being so busy,” says Barb. She moves to take your pencil from your hand. “You wouldn’t mind swapping, would you?”

“Course not,” you say, because really, what else are you meant to say? You move to stand next to Melissa, who is now shooting an odd look on Barb’s direction. “I can swap with Barb if you want?”

“What? No!” she quickly reassures you. “I was just wondering if she’d actually lost her mind volunteering to take those two.”

“Oh come on, they’re not that bad,” you reply, admittedly rather half-heartedly.

“You really wanna swap with Barb?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“Hell no!” comes your immediately reply. “I definitely got the better deal one this one.”

“There’s a shortcut coming up.”

Melissa frowns, looking at the map Ava had provided. She turned it to and fro, not sure where you were seeing any shortcut.

“It’s not on Ava’s map,” you add, coming to stand next to her. You point to where the marked path takes a long, meandering loop. “It’s just here. It leaves the path and cuts out that big loop. It’s a bit steeper, but-“

“You saying I’m too old to take the short cut?”

Your eyes go wide at her words and you immediately start to back track. “That’s not what I said! I said it was a little steeper, that was all!”

She chuckles. “I was just messin’ with ya, kid. So, this shortcut takes some time off, huh?”

“Should do,” you nod. “I only know it’s there because when I first came here it was after seeing pictures on Instagram of the view from the top. There were hints about making the hike quicker in the comments.”

“You think it gives us a shot at beating Ava?” Melissa smirks. The Principal had practically dragged Gregory off at a run at the start of the scavenger hunt.

“It just might,” you grin right back.

“Then I say lets go.”

“Shit!”

“What? What happened, are you okay?” you ask, quickly turning around to inspect the red head.

She waves off your concern with a hand. “I forgot about the list of crap we’re meant to find.”

“Oh that? Don’t worry about that. I found half the things we needed before we even left camp this morning.” You take the list out of your pocket. “We just need a feather, a Y shaped twig and a heart shaped rock.”

Melissa shakes her head, looking at you with a fond smile. “You got this all under control, huh?”

You hope the blush that creeps up your cheeks can be passed off as the exertion of your hike. You’re helpless under her soft gaze. “Didn’t think you’d let me live it down if we came last.”

Her smile turns positively wicked. “You know me well,” she says as she starts the uphill climb once more, treating you to a rather glorious view of her rear. You’re quick to chastise yourself for your blatant staring and fall into step behind her.

“Oh, wow.”

You look up at the softly uttered words to see that Melissa has reached the viewpoint ahead of you. She has a soft smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she takes in the view. You remember feeling the same sense of wonder the first time you saw the landscape falling away before you. Like you were on top of the world.

Abandoning your search for a heart shape stone, you force your legs to take the final few steps to bring you level with the red head. You take a moment to breathe, looking over the expanse of green below you before turning to look at the other woman. Her cheeks are flushed from the effort of the hike, her hair in windswept waves around her face. She looks beautiful. She always does, to you.

She turns to look at you and you immediately duck your head, aware you’ve been blatantly caught staring. That’s when you see it, right in front of your boot. A heart shaped stone. Bending to pick it up, you hold it out to her. “Looks like we ticked off our list.”

“And made it to the top first,” she grins smugly. She proceeds to open the small rucksack she had been toting, shaking out a picnic blanket before producing a bottle of wine. “A little drink to celebrate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.”

You open your eyes, turning your head to look up to where she sits next to you on the blanket. “I tend to be more relaxed when I’m away from things…people,” you finally reply.

“I’m not people?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.

You pull yourself up until you’re sitting next to her, your knees drawn up to your chest as you look out over the view. It’s easier to talk when you’re not looking at her. “You’re different.” You get nervous around Melissa, yes, but it’s not the same anxiety you feel around others. “You don’t make me feel self-conscious about being me.”

“You know something, kid?” she breathes. “I think that’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.”

You feel an arm slip around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. This is why you fell in love with her, you realise. This acceptance of your quirks, your anxieties and your oddities without question. You’ve never even had to explain them to her. She just gets you.

You’re not quite sure you can recall when it started, her understanding, you falling for her, but there is one night that stands out in your mind. Ava had organised staff drinks. It was a bar you’d never been too and it was busy and loud. It had taken having a quiet word with yourself to even make it in the door. Standing barely two steps inside, you had scanned the room, looking for a friendly face, your anxiety rising when you couldn’t find one. It was stupid, you knew, to think that anyone thought you looked out of place for simply taking a moment to stand and search for your friends, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

It was then that you heard a familiar voice and saw Melissa cutting through the crowd towards you. Her hand found your own, and she offered you a smile before leading you through the busy room to where your Abbott family were gathered. It had been a good night, but as usual, you had struggled to find a way to leave. You knew you were an adult who could leave whenever they wanted, but somehow, you always seem to end up the last to leave out of some misplaced notion of it being more polite than leaving before the night was over.

Melissa had given you an out, seeing you were flagging and offering you a lift with her and Barb. She was forever giving you an out, it felt like. And yet she never made it feel like a burden. You shift until you can lean your head on her shoulder, in almost a reverse of the night before.

“How the hell you beat us?”

You both jump at the sound of Ava’s voice behind you, turning to face her.

“We practically speed walked!” she shouts, dumping a bag beside you clearly containing the contents of the scavenger hunt list. “Ya’ll must have cheated!”

“How?” Melisa questions. “We all left at the same time. You saw us. If I remember rightly, you practically took off like a sprinter out the blocks!”

Gregory appears behind Ava, looking slightly winded. He looks just as surprised to see you as she had. “How the?”

“Skills,” smirks Melissa. “Some of us just have them.”

You jerk awake at the creek of the door of your little hut, squinting in the dark.

“It’s just me,” comes the hiss of a whisper.

Melissa.

“Scooch over.”

“To where?” you grumble, acquiescing all the same, and moving as far to the edge of the small camp bed as you can without falling off. The frame squeaks in protest as the red head joins you on the too small bed. You huff as she manhandles you into a comfortable position, her arm around your waist and her head on your shoulder.

“First you call me old, now you call me fat!” she chuckles as she shimmies in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“Did not!” is all you can manage. “You know I wouldn’t.” You feel her smile against your neck. Yes, the line has definitely been crossed. By both of you. Baby steps to many, it may seem, but giant leaps for awkward lesbian-kind.

“I know I’m just teasing,” she says quietly.

You hum in reply. “One of your many skills.”

“You like it.”

“I like you,” you say quietly, too sleepy to worry too much about your words.

As your eyes drift closed, you feel her lips smile against your skin. “I like you too. This is kinda nice, too.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

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digital-chance · 10 months

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writeblr intro

hey i'm chance! i've done a writeblr intro recently but i didn't like it, so this is take 2. here's the old one.

─── about me -⋆⋅☆

name : chance

pronouns : they/he

likes : cyberpunk, romance, anime, kpop, music, history, design

age : 20

i tend to swear both on here and in my writing, so if you're sensitive to that, i don't think my blog or work is for you. i also use the word 'queer' a lot since i self-identify as such, when i do choose to self-identify.

i'm interested in so much, which would be impossible to fully state. there are so many new things out there and i love learning about them all!! this blog is mainly for writing but i'm not strict on that.

i also am pretty sure i'm neurodivergent (no diagnosis or anything yet) and tend to delve into hyper-fixations for weeks at a time. if i haven't posted for a while, it's probably because of one of my other hyper-fixations or school.

i'm going to college for my bachelor's in graphic design, which might make my responses during the school year delayed.

i'm always open to ask or tag games!! it might take me a few to respond but i'll respond.

─── writing -⋆⋅☆

you'll find a lot of diverse characters, the found/chosen family trope, romance or rom-com, angst, and references to actual history or historical events within my work. sometimes i throw in a little art fact since i'm an art student. in nearly every one of my works you can find a prominent lgbtq+ character, too.

i write for original works and fanfiction alike. i often alternate what project i'm writing on and tend to leave wips unfinished. there's no one specific fandom that i'm in since i tend to dabble in everything.

i enjoy reading all sorts of stories, but some of the tropes and genres that have a special place in my heart include:

[ genres : romance . action . sci-fi . dystopian . heists . cyberpunk . horror . comedy . mystery ] [ tropes : friends to lovers , enemies to lovers , fake/pretend relationship , college au , coffee shop au , domestic , fluff , angst ]

─── ⋆ looking for ⋆⋅☆

more writers to follow!

good vibes & friends

writing advice & critique buddies (will help critique ur work too)

─── works in progress -⋆⋅☆

nova futurum | original work | #wip: nova futurum

─── ⋆ status : brainstorming

a lgbtq+ mafia cyberpunk story with the working title "Nova Futurum." i've got the general information down and i'm currently working on fleshing out my main characters. for now it's in the very basic stages, but feel free to ask me about it or give any tips!

you still would've been mine | fanfiction | #wip: yswbm

─── ⋆ status : outlining, research, & writing draft 1

Steven "Steve" Rogers wakes up in the 21st century after crashing into the ice in 1942, leaving behind his life as the mascot of the USA along with his childhood in Brooklyn NYC. The Winter Soldier, a man left behind in the war recovers his memories as the man known as James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes after meeting Steve in the modern time. Steve and Bucky recall their childhood and their experience in the war as they recover.

matchbreakers | original work | #wip: match

─── ⋆ status : brainstorming

xavier works at match breakers. instead of setting people up on blind dates, he goes to dates and breaks up the couple. all sorts of people hire him, disapproving parents, jealous ex's, and those scared to see their ex's angry side. what he doesn't expect is falling in love with one of his own clients.

scars of duty | original work | #wip: sod

─── ⋆ status : plotting

Lucian is a hero who protects the city of Haines and the other members of his hero's league. They're a small-name hero just trying to make do with what they've got. A villain new to the city shows up and shakes Lucian’s perception of their own superpowers and the world.

< tag lists: if you'd like to be added for any project, let me know. i'm not the greatest at remembering the tag list but i will try! >

─── ⋆ more of my socials & my design portfolio

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sharkboywrites · 7 months

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Hello there! I'm 🎉 anon

May I request a platonic (with a hint of parental) of Grimsley who's a mentor for a child/preteen reader (around 11-12 y/o)

Reader got this dark aesthetic (black cap, turtleneck, black trench coat, and boots) that aspires to be a Dark type Elite Four, but despite all that they're a little mischievous and off-the-wall kid.

They really like spending their time with Grimsley (even to the point they'd wait in front of his casino) and Grimsley finds them adorable and lowkey treats them like a kid he never has

Like, they'd battle, train, and then hang out like showing card tricks.

(I love found family so much-)

A/N: yaaay my first emoji anon :). I’ll be honest I don’t know that much about Grimsley so I’m just going off what I got when I looked him up, sorry if it’s not accurate. Also the meds I’m on for getting my wisdom teeth out make me kinda loopy so I’m not sure how good my writing will come out.

Grimsley With a Preteen Apprentice

- Having Grimsley as a mentor can be a 50/50 sometimes

- Grimsley generally has a good state of mind when it comes to battling

- He only ever sees a positive to a battle, win or loose

- If you ever loose a battle, he’s there to assure you that this is only good for you

- He uses this as an opportunity for you to learn and grow as a trainer, after all you can’t get better if you never see your mistakes

- He’s supportive in your dreams and also in the way you dress

- You do look the part for the job you want, and he admires that

- He thinks your passion is amazing and continues to support it, although he doesn’t let you get ahead of yourself

- With Grimsley as a mentor, you’ll never be dragged down by your losses

- After a while you hardly ever find yourself upset about a loss

- From now on you’ll only see this as a chance to grow

- Unfortunately, Grimsley did have to step down from his position as an elite four member to the gambling addiction he developed

- But this doesn’t mean he’s irresponsible or becomes a worse mentor

- In fact he’s now always making sure that that you’re being responsible and keeping yourself in check

- He wants to make sure that you don’t suffer the same way he did

- After working with you, he’s found that he’s become attached to you, and he doesn’t want you to go down the same path he did

- He always stresses the importance of keeping yourself regulated

- Whole he has made some mistakes in his life, he doesn’t want the same to happen to you

- He’s come to see you as his child, no matter what your situation with your parents is

- He really is a great mentor and wants to keep you safe, and he can and will do everything in his power to keep you that way

I hope I got his character right, I never played ultra sun/moon or black/white 2 so I never actually played against him. I currently have a heat pack wrapped around my face and I look like Amanda in the reverse bear trap from the first saw movie I’m not even kidding lol. Ty for reading and have a nice day <3

#male reader #sharkboywrites #gn reader #platonic x reader #pokémon x reader #grimsley #pokemon grimsley #pkmn grimsley #grimsley x reader #grimsley x reader platonic #Pokémon x reader platonic #platonic fic #platonic fanfiction #platonic Pokémon x reader

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mswyrr · 9 months

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re: Sydney's walls. Going off the discussion in @vacationship's excellent post about Carmy and his trauma responses (which IMO he lowers around Sydney as much as he's currently able; being around her is like being able to actually breathe, forget about 'the clock' and feel close with someone), I think that pairs with how Sydney lowers her walls around him in a way that is seemingly unique for her (I'd love to see more of how she relates to people outside of work - other family members, friends!).

What has gone into her walls and their origin in her childhood? Honing in specifically on her use of humor, I am reminded of something Stephen Colbert said about losing his father and two brothers young: he saw his role, as a child, as making his mother laugh, helping lighten the load for her in that way. Here's a quote from a conversation with him and Molly Shannon, who also experienced deep loss as a child:

"You said you wanted to make your mother laugh and cheer her up, and stuff like that, right? I relate to all that stuff, too, and in some ways, I wanted to make sure my dad was okay. My dad was really interested in writing and performing. We used to do acting exercises in the house. And so I kind of also did that for him too because it made him so happy."

And I think -- even though Emmanuel seems like a really excellent parent -- a sensitive child would feel his deep sorrow and want to lighten that burden like that - so her use of humor, to bond and deflect heavy emotions, to cut through pain, makes sense to me as something they shared. And she probably felt a level of responsibility for and awareness of her father's needs that she wouldn't have had to if he'd still had her mother there.

I think she also probably felt like she had to keep some things to herself, so as not to add to his burden, even though she's had a lot of support from her dad in figuring out life and practical concerns. They seem to be very honest with each other--even when he's struggling to understand her choices and she's having trouble explaining her dreams and goals-- but things that she felt might have hurt him? I can imagine her holding those close.

It's interesting how reluctant Sydney is to share about her loss -- even to the point of misguiding (or allowing them to make assumptions) both Marcus and Carmy about her mom. Her line to Carmy about how she doesn't want the "I'm sorry for your loss" stuff (and him going from being very serious about it to joining her in her coping mechanism and trying to make her laugh) is telling.

I think there's a lot more to it and I'd love to know what kind of wider family and friends network of support the two of them had, a grieving widower and his little 4 year old girl. I really want to see more of her wider relationships and how those shaped her.

#sydney adamu #the bear #the bear meta #sydcarmy

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alltimefail-sims · 4 months

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I present to you all... Wren's family!

Are you reading The Familiar by @mangosimoothie? You should be reading The Familiar by mangosimoothie and rooting for my baby Wren. (I'm mostly kidding - rooting for Wren is optional, but reading the Familiar is not 😉.)

This was probably self indulgent, and I definitely spent way too much time making them, but even if no one else cares... I'm pleased! I've been wanting to do this for way too long! First we have Wren's father, Dr. Abdou Opara and Wren's mother, Dr. Latita Opara (née Wiley). Then we have Wren's siblings Kingston and Angelique.

Want more info on them or to see their full-body outfits? Fear not...

Many details below the cut! ↓

If you read Wren's original post you already know that Abdou, Wren's father, is a retired engineer and tech investor while his wife, Latita, is the current and very popular mayor of San Myshuno. But I didn't really get to go into detail about Wren's siblings so I'm gonna do that real quick!!

Wren's oldest sibling, Kinston (30 y.o.), has a doctorate from Foxbury in biology, but he was also the captain of the robotics team and has a passion for engineering just like his father. After graduation he combined his two passions and created a bio-tech company that focuses on creating innovations and improvements in the medical field, particularly for surgical procedures and daily disability maneuverability and pain management. Wren thinks he's an absolutely insufferable ego-maniac, but they're not a completely reliable narrator because Kingston's just kind of a nerd with a little bit of a superiority complex (oldest child syndrome), but Wren's parents have always lifted up Kingston as the example and that's annoying as fuck! Oh and if Latita has a favorite child, it's Kingston (she's never proclaimed a favorite out loud but like... it's pretty clear).

Then there's the Opara's middle child, Angelique (27 y.o.), who I promise does not just walk around in pageant crowns and evening gowns (although that would be iconic imo). Although a middle child, Angelique has never had to fight for attention and is Abdou's clear favorite (again he's never said it out loud but like... he's even more obvious). She has a distinguished psychology degree with honors from Foxbury Institute and graduated at the top of her class. The reason she's dressed in pageant-wear is because she recently won the title of Miss America (whatever the sims equivalent is called). She'll be competing for Miss Universe next because she's a bad bitch ig? Lmao. She just is very competitive. Wren thinks Angelique is generally less insufferable than Kingston, but the two of them in a room together is like nails on a chalkboard to Wren. Wren and Angelique are a little closer, but "close" as in like... they get along okay, they'll pick up *if* the other calls, and she nags Wren the least of any of their family members (but that's just because she "has better things to do"). That being said, she does call Wren "baby Wren" which drives them nuts (but she's being affectionate in her own way).

*Fun fact: all of the Oparas are Foxbury alum except for our dear Wren and they never hear the end of it!

*Also a fun fact but, needless to say, Wren's mom doesn't want to end her political career as a mayor: she's working her way up the political ladder to the presidential candidacy, babyyyyy!!! On the flip-side, Abdou has always been a strict parent who cares about "legacy" and that's why they're so anal about protecting the family's public image and why they're especially hard on Wren who thinks all of those things are kind of bullshit.

FINALLY, I do want to note that I didn't include one *technical* family member, Kingston's college sweetheart and fiancé Kasi who Wren actually enjoys being around and thinks is way out of their brother's league.

Anyway okay I'm done now here they are side-by-side as promised:

Irl I imagine their heights to vary (with Wren being taller than their mom but shorter than everyone else) but I was too lazy to use a height slider.

Okay NOW I'm done for real lmao byeeeeeeee

#simblr #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 cas #sims 4 #the sims community #my ocs #my sims #oc: wren #*the oparas

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yuckydraws · 8 months

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A lil oneshot that I'm thinking might become the start of an ongoing fic? We'll see.

Pairing: (HT Sans/reader) with hints of (UT Papyrus/reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Build Up My Heart

It’s fucking hot.

You wipe the sweat off your brow and sigh, looking at all the work you and your team accomplished today. You’ve finally finished the framing for the guest house this family of… rather odd skeletons, have hired you to build. And you understand why.

This already large, cabin-like home is practically overflowing with them.

In your time here, you’ve counted at least twelve.

Twelve people. In one home that, yes, is large, but can’t hold more than maybe five or six bedrooms.

It’s a wonder they haven’t ripped each other’s heads off - you’ve overheard a fight or two when you’ve taken your lunch on the lawn… and man do some of them argue.

When you first started working here, you swore you were going crazy. Almost every time you saw one of them it was one you’ve never seen/met before. Yet they all seem to look alike in some way, though you’ve kept that to yourself. Maybe that’s just how it is for skeleton monsters, who are you to say something ignorant like that?

Sans and Papyrus, the two skeletons you’ve spoken with the most, have been patient with every setback this project has had, though you can almost see the exhaustion in their sockets every time they pop over to talk progress. Makes you wonder if they’re the “peacekeepers” of the home.

But, then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be wondering too much. You’re just here to work, get the job done, and eventually move on to the next. Which will likely be another cookie cutter house in a subdivision.

… you’ll admit, though, that you’re going to miss seeing some of the wacky things they do.

And seeing that absolutely gorgeous garden of theirs.

It’s basically your dream. It packs an impressive variety of fruits and vegetables all neatly growing in raised garden beds. Marigolds are scattered about, likely to keep pests away, and there’s much more flowers where that came from - all of which look happy and content if their blooms are anything to go by. Whoever planned the garden, took convenience into account as well. An array of herbs grow right behind the decorative arch to the entrance of the garden. Just in case anyone just needs to grab a quick little something for a recipe.

Stars, you’d love to trade your apartment windowsill, grown out of an old milk jug, herbs for a lovely stroll to this garden. Who wouldn’t?

It also has a line of fruit trees lining the north side of the garden, likely so as not to block the sunshine. Whether those were here when they purchased the land and they planned the garden around it, or not, you wouldn’t doubt that whoever planned this garden would have the foresight for that.

Currently, ripe peaches hang from one tree, and apple blossoms grow on another. Makes you wonder what the other two trees produce, but they must not be in season at the moment with their bareness.

As if all that wasn’t enough, they also topped off this garden with strewn lights, stone pathways, and goofy gnomes.

A garden like this looks like a full time job, yet you’ve never seen who tends to it. You’ve seen some of the household members pick from it, but never who makes sure the weeds stay away, or who manages the more sensitive plants.

You wonder who it is.

“Hey, didn’t ya hear?” A voice calls you from your thoughts. You pry your gaze away from the garden and meet your coworker’s gaze. “It’s quittin’ time.”

“Yeah, I heard.” You confirm, slipping your gloves off. Not that those gloves protect your hands from the rough calluses littering your palms, but they do help them feel less sore at the end of the day. “The boss wants me to meet with those skeletons to go over the next step.” You thank whatever is up there that you actually have an excuse for your daydreaming this time.

“Right, I forgot that you’re a bigwig supervisor now.” He teases. You roll your eyes, that title hardly means anything yet. “Well, we’re all meetin’ at Al’s for drinks, if ya wanna join later.”

You would rather not.

“We’ll see, thanks Ron.” You neither accept nor decline. He gives somewhat of a salute before slipping away with the rest of the bunch.

Slipping your hardhat off, you await the arrival of your boss, scrolling on your phone in the meantime. It’s not long until you hear the rumble of his truck pulling up, and you quickly pocket the device in your hands.

Out hops Ted, clipboard in hand and that aggravating smile on his face.

He’s nice enough, but something about him has always felt a little fake. However, playing nice with the boss was what got you this promotion, so you’re not about to jeopardize that now. Waving you over, he greets the skeleton brothers who approach him rather quickly. Must have been waiting just like you. Eager wouldn’t begin to explain how much they want this project to move along.

You catch the tail end of greetings, shaking both Sans and Papyrus’ hands as you’re formally introduced (though, you’ve already had multiple conversations with them while working). Your boss cracks some jokes that you half laugh along to, before he finally gets down to business. Listening intently, and chiming in when necessary, you learn what you already knew. Plumbing, HVAC, electrical, etc. needs to happen before you and your team can continue. It’ll be contracted out, yadda yadda yadda.

Just as you’re beginning to think you have no reason to be a part of this conversation, it’s… over. Yeah that was a waste of a half hour, though you suppose you may be giving clients this talk at some point so it’s likely important to hear.

Ted wraps things up, shakes their hands again, and takes his leave. Sans slips away after that, claiming that he has something that he needs to get back to. You almost follow and take your leave as well, but Papyrus, who’s always been more social, gets you pausing.

“WELL, HUMAN, I SUPPOSE WE WON’T BE SEEING YOU FOR A LITTLE BIT.” He says. You’ve long since gotten used to his loud voice. You smile.

“Gonna miss me that bad?” You tease. Oddly enough, a light flush of orange rises to his cheekbones. Interesting

“W-Well… I ALWAYS ENJOY OUR TALKS WHEN I BRING OUT WATER.” He blurts. Ah, yes, the water. Ultimately unneeded, but very much appreciated.

“It’ll be a few weeks, at most.” You remind him. He beams at that.

“YES, I SUPPOSE YOU’RE RIGHT.” He agrees. It warms your heart that he seems to care even that much. It’s not often homeowners even talk to you and your crew, let alone be as kind as Papyrus has been. “WELL, YOU’VE HAD A LONG DAY, I WON’T KEEP YOU.”

You check your watch and wince.

“Yeahhh… I still got to run to the store to get some tomatoes for this recipe I’m making, so I should-”

“WE HAVE TOMATOES!” Papyrus all but blurts. You blink up at him. That orange flush is back.

Huh.

“We U-Uh… WE HAVE THAT GARDEN, I’M SURE YOU’VE SEEN IT!” You tilt your head at his words, not wanting to assume where he’s going with this - he is a client after all. “WE HAVE PLENTY, YOU SHOULD PICK SOME AND SAVE YOURSELF A TRIP.”

At any other jobsite, you’d have quickly refused… but something about his hopeful smile and genuinity of the offer has you softening like butter. Plus… you’d get to see that beautiful garden up close.

“You sure? I don’t want to overstep…”

“POSITIVE! I THINK BEAR IS IN THE GARDEN RIGHT NOW, HE COULD SHOW YOU WHERE THEY’RE PLANTED!”

“Bear?” You ask, wracking your brain for which skeleton he’s referring to. You haven’t been introduced to many of them.

“YOU HAVEN’T MET HIM.” Papyrus says with absolute certainty. “HE AVOIDS TENDING TO IT WHEN YOU GUYS ARE HERE WORKING.”

Oh.

“Well, are you sure he’ll want me wandering in there, then?”

“OH, I’M SURE HE’LL BE ALRIGHT WITH IT, HE JUST… HAS TROUBLE SOCIALLY. HE’S NICE, THOUGH.”

You hesitate. This Bear obviously enjoys gardening in the peace and quiet, who are you to interrupt that? However… it’s nearing 7pm and you’re ravenous. A trip to the store sounds like torture.

As if sensing your dilemma, Papyrus pivots, placing a hand on your shoulder and urges you back around the house. “I’LL GO WITH YOU, TO ASSURE YOU ALL IS WELL.” You just nod and follow along, both because it feels like nothing you do will change his mind, and because of your selfish desire to just get done with this day sooner.

Your workboots sink into the plush clover lawn as you both make your way across the backyard to the garden. Your eyes are captured once again, by said garden, and you almost don’t notice the rather large skeleton tending to the flowerbeds in towards the front until Papyrus speaks from across the short fencing.

“BEAR, IS IT ALRIGHT IF MY FRIEND HERE PICKS SOME TOMATOES?”

You look to where Papyrus is speaking, and the first thing you see is the gaping hole in this skeleton’s head.

Holyfuckisheokay?? How-

You look to Papyrus in concern, but see him just… smiling down at you? Confused, you look back to this skeleton, crouched behind a garden bed and lock eyes (eye?) with the bloated, bright red eye-light filling the socket that isn’t scarred from his head wound. You… can’t tell what he’s thinking, with that blank expression of his.

But seeing as this is apparently normal for him, you’re now worried you’ve offended the guy.

Maybe magic helps monsters survive the seemingly unsurvivable? It’s not like he has any internal organs in his skull… maybe that’s why-

You’re pulled from your thoughts as this apparent behemoth stands up.

Oh.

Oh my.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s called ‘Bear’. He’s certainly a bear in every sense of the word. Large, imposing, intimidating… and did you mention huge?? Now, you aren’t small. You’ve kept up in construction for almost a decade now and it shows… but you still feel like a twig, craning your neck to look up at him.

However, the dirt covered overalls he’s wearing, definitely takes away from some of his initial intimidating demeanor.

“... sure.” He rumbles, blank expression still giving no clue to where his mind is.

Holy fucking baritone-

Papyrus pats you on the back and beams at Bear.

“THANK YOU! I’M GOING TO START ON DINNER, OKAY?” You numbly nod, trying to force your thoughts away from where they want to go. “SEE YOU IN A FEW WEEKS, HUMAN!” Tearing your eyes away from Bear, you wave back to Papyrus and watch him retreat into the home. You wait until he’s inside to take in what you hope is a subtle deep breath.

You about leap into the air, when you turn around and find Bear right behind you, at the entrance of the garden. Clutching your chest, you remind yourself to relax. How’d he get there? And so quietly, too…

And you swear you see this giant quirk the smallest of smiles at your jumpiness.

He thinks he’s funny, huh? Asshole.

You stare up at him, flushing and definitely not pouting. “Ah, uh, thanks for letting me steal some tomatoes, you’re saving me a trip to the store.” You decide to be polite. After all, you were the one to gawk first, perhaps you deserved a bit of payback.

He just grunts.

And you both just… stand there. After a few moments of silence, you speak up.

“So… where are they?” You inquire, glancing around at what you can see of the garden, but it’s hard when you have a seven foot wall of solid skele-man right in front of you.

“where are… what?” He asks.

You tilt your head. He just said…

“The tomatoes?” You try, maybe he spaced out when Papyrus asked him if it was okay… and when you just mentioned them a second ago?

He seems to recall something, if the twitch of his bone brows are to say much. Nodding, he turns and lumbers through the rows of flowerbeds. Assuming that’s an invitation for you to follow, you rush to fall into step behind him and his large strides… but, you quickly fall behind as you start to admire the garden’s beauty up close. Your steps slow as you stroll past the growing cauliflower plants. These can be incredibly hard to grow… how did he…?

You gingerly touch one of the leaves, and look up to Bear, who’s stopped and turned to look at what’s keeping you.

“How do you get these to grow so well?” You ask, smiling excitedly at him. He blinks, large shoulders relaxing a bit, as if he was expecting you to ask something else.

He reaches into his overall pocket, and slips out what looks like a very well-loved notebook. You watch curiously, but patiently as he opens it and flips through it. You’re unsure what the notebook has to do with his answer but you’re willing to wait and find out.

He pauses on a page and looks back to you, seeming to ponder something before deciding ‘fuck it’, as he approaches you and hands the book to you. It’s got various dirt stains, and some pages have been taped back in where they’ve come loose, so you treat it with care as you take it from his grasp. And there, on the page you see notes in small, neat handwriting. Research notes, with drawings and everything. The topic being the little cauliflower plant you’re standing next to.

Some of it seems to just be information taken from the internet and put in short form, while others seems to be from actual trial and error. You skim his writing, noticing that he’s scratched some things out but towards the end, he seems to have figured out the perfect schedule for the plant to thrive.

You’re tempted to flip through the book and read more, but you refrain. That seems like an invasion of privacy.

“Wow, that’s really cool that you go as far to take all these notes. You must really enjoy this, huh?” You ask, handing it back to him. He stares at it in his hands for a moment, before putting it back in his pocket.

He just nods.

“Not much of a talker?” You tease lightheartedly, trying to see if you can get any sort of… anything out of this guy other than blank staring and slightly intimidating silence.

He shrugs, and turns back around, leading you again.

But you’re not done.

“You’ve really built something beautiful here, ya know?” You continue. He just keeps walking. “This is amazing! It could almost be considered a small farm! Though, I guess with all your housemates to feed, it’s just a garden, huh?”

Still no answer, but you swear he starts walking a little faster if the way you have to almost jog to keep up is anything to go by.

“The flowers too? Man, this must be a full time job that, I’ll be honest, I’m a little jealous of! I’d be in here all day if I was able to! This is absolutely gorgeous, Bear! Do you take care of this all by yourself? You really have a talent, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly Bear stops, leaving you to walk right into his back… which given his height means you faceplant right into his spine. He barely budges, yet the force of it knocks you on your butt. You grunt and rub at your smarting nose. Damn, this dude is solid.

His red light stares down at you, from the corner of his good socket. He doesn’t apologize, or offer you a hand, just simply points to the tomato plant in front of him.

“... tomato.” He mutters, then takes his leave, stepping over your sprawled legs and heading back to the flower bed he was working on.

… huh, you could’ve sworn, you saw the faintest hints of blue on his cheekbones.

Chuckling to yourself, and once again, thinking that these skeletons are silly, you pick yourself up and dust off your pants. Not that. You really need to dust off your already dirty work clothes, but it feels right.

You lean over the tomato plants in question, finding quite a little variety in the garden bed. Roma, cherry, black krim, campari - and those are just the ones you can name. Dinner in this house must be full of all the most delicious, fresh produce.

Once again, you’re a little jealous.

You pick a few ripe and tasty looking romas, and call it good. While you’d love to experiment with some of the others, this was a kind offer from a friend and given to you by an acquaintance, you’re not about to take advantage of either of them. Holding your goods protectively to you, you wander back to the entrance of the garden, where Bear is once again knelt in front of one of the flowerbeds, tugging at some stubborn looking weeds.

He glances at you as you approach him. You hold up your three tomatoes and grin at him. “Thank you for these, you saved me a trip to the store!” A nod is all you get. “And… speaking of the store, I feel bad just taking these, I have cash?”

That gets him to fully turn his skull to look at you, and you take that as a yes.

“This is about a pound, I’d say, so how about I just give you an even $5?” You offer. Yet again, he just stares.

“... I mean I can look up how much it is at the store or you can give me a price too, if you’d rather…” You ramble, feeling a little awkward under that stare of his. You just met the guy today, and he’s proving to be extremely hard to read.

You’re about to just reach into your pocket and pull out a $10 (way too much, but you’d pay anything to get out of this awkward silence), when your stomach growls rather loudly. His stare moves to your belly.

“Ah, uh, yeah it’s dinner time, huh?” You try to joke it off. His light flits back to your face, and finally, he just waves you off.

“... You don’t want money?” You ask tentatively. He shakes his head.

“... go home.” He rumbles, yet his tone isn’t rude, “go eat.” He adds. Your shoulders release tension you didn’t even quite realize was there and the awkwardness finally fading, and you offer him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day. I really appreciate it.”

He hums.

“... and I hope you know you don’t have to wait until our team leaves to tend to your garden. This is your home, we’re just working here.”

He raises a skele-brow at your words, looking unimpressed as he gestures to the sizable hole in his skull. You hold back a wince as you remember your reaction. You know the guys you work with, and you also know that your reaction is probably going to be the most tame one he gets.

“Right… I uh, I’m really sorry for how I reacted, I thought it was a recent injury and I was worried you needed an ambulance or something cause humans can’t survive something like that, but that was really insensitive.” You murmur. His stare seems to slightly soften at that, but you barely notice that as an idea pops in your brain. Instantly, you brighten. “Wait here! I’ve got an idea, I will be right back!”

And with that, you start a careful jog to your old, beat up truck - not wanting to drop your precious produce. Once there, you deposit your small bounty into your upside down hardhat to keep them from rolling around, and then pop open your rather dirt-covered glove department. You’ve never really found the point in cleaning your truck that often when you just dirty it everyday after work. Digging through the mess of papers there, your hands find that knit fabric they were looking for.

“Ah hah!” You exclaim excitedly, closing your vehicle’s door and rushing back around the house to the garden that you left Bear at. He’s since moved on to a different flowerbed, but no amount of kneeling would hide that big frame of his and he’s rather easy to spot because of it.

Hearing the crunches on your loud footsteps in the gravel, he turns, seeming a little surprised that you actually came back.

You hold up the beanie in your hand, grinning at him as you let him connect the dots, it was one of your first crochet projects… and you misread the amount of links you’d need for it, resulting in a beanie that was ridiculously large for your head. You had meant to toss it or take it apart for the yarn, but it found its way into your glove department, and that’s where it’s stayed for almost a year.

However, it seems to be the perfect size for this skeleton giant in front of you.

“Wanna see if it fits?” You ask, stepping closer. In your excitement, you don’t connect the dots that his skull might be a no-touching zone, and reach to slip it on. He quickly leans away from you, eyeing the beanie warily.

“Oh, right. Sorry, here.” You hold it out in an offer. He hesitantly takes it, staring at it for a long moment before glancing up to you. “It’ll stretch, if you’re worried about it catching those edges.” You assure him, not sure how sensitive the area around his injury is, but figuring it’s better safe than sorry.

After a few more moments of silence (that are beginning to feel a little less awkward), he slowly and carefully slips the beanie on his skull. He makes sure to stretch it and hold it a little ways away on his injured side of his skull, and soon it’s sitting nicely on his head.

A perfect fit.

“There! Now it’s hidden!” You say. He tilts his head. “I know it’s not fair that you can’t just waltz out here in broad daylight while we’re here without worrying about feeling judged, but it’s also not fair to have to hole yourself inside and wait until we leave to do your thing. I mean, it’s almost dark and you’ve got a lot more to do, and these string lights only illuminate so much.” You explain.

He nods, slipping it off and moving to hand it back to you, as if he’s not aware it’s a gift.

“Keep it, think of this as a trade for the yummy tomatoes! Plus, I think you look cute in it.” You say, smiling again as you see the slight blue return to his face. “If you decide you don’t like it, feel free to do whatever you’d like with it, it’s not like it’ll fit my head anyways.” You say with a little laugh.

A low rumbling noise escapes Bear. You tilt your head, and it doesn’t click until you see the smile on his face and his shoulders bouncing slightly. He’s chuckling at you.

You ignore the growing warmth on your face at hearing more of that very attractive voice of his, and let out a few little giggles of your own, closing your eyes as you do.

So, you’re none the wiser when Bear slips the beanie off of his head and moves closer to you in that silent way he does. It’s not until he plops the article onto you that you sputter and open your eyes, only to be met with your lashes brushing against the yarn and your vision being hindered by the way the beanie practically reaches the bottom of your nose. Reaching up, you lift it up and find Bear grinning at you.

“... no, it doesn’t… does it?”

He’s making fun of you. Again.

Jokingly pouting, you slip it off and toss it back at him, where it bounces off his chest harmlessly and falls into his lap. He guffaws at that, his little chuckles turning into a deep belly laughter.

It’s infectious, and soon, you’re joining in again.

It’s not until your stomach makes your hunger loudly well known again, that he sobers, looking serious once again.

“... you need… to eat.” He reminds you.

You smile sheepishly, and try not to be too disappointed at having to leave. You were just getting him outta his shell a bit!

“Yeah, I do. Your dinner will be ready soon, too, I bet.” You say, shifting your weight on your feet as you stall just a moment longer. “I uh, hope to see more of you.”

He just stares again, but there’s a sharpness missing in his light.

“Goodnight, Bear.” You say, pivoting to take your leave. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you just assume he won’t, given what you’ve learned about him today.

But as you start to walk back to your truck, you hear a quiet, “goodnight.” from Bear. You smile again, turning to give him a little wave that you don’t see if he returns as you round the corner of the house.

#yucky writes #yucky yaks #oneshot #drabble #but not really #undertale #ut papyrus #papyrus #horrortale #ht sans #bear #papyrus/reader #htsans/reader #if i do make this an ongoing fic it'll be a reverse harem #i deffo have ideas but I still gotta actually ya know. plan a plot if it's gonna be ongoing so we'll see!

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lugarn · 5 months

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Sex Worker Camp & Groundbreaking in Playboyy

You might say that sex worker camp is a genre that doesn't exist.

You'd be wrong! For as long as there has been camp, there has been sex worker camp. Buckle up for a long meta!

I think the easiest, most well-known example of camp that touches on SW camp is Rocky Horror! Rocky is literally a gay sex bot in a narrative that's about exploring your sexual desires against the backdrop of what society has told you those desires are. He got to figure out what his desires were, even though he was created for a particular purpose!

Sex work camp also engages with the fears of sex workers, since camp often engages (in ways that sometimes seem absurd) with the fears of the characters. I don't mean specifically a character's personal fears as much as I mean their fears for the role society has determined they have. We in theory have no caste systems in most countries today, but sex workers are still somehow usually at the bottom of the social hierarchy despite that.

That's a thing I love about sex work camp: the juxtaposition of desire and knowing that whatever desire you have has little place because you have a job or are performing a role. Ownership and roles are themes that are visited and revisited in Playboyy. In every single episode, there are questions about who owns who, and what the person being owned feels about the fact that they lack freedom, and exploring the ways in which every single one of the workers chooses or doesn't choose to be owned.

The longer the show goes on, the deeper and more extreme we have gotten with roles and the limitations of roles, from the question of Zouey and his desires in episode one to the fact that Porsche and Prom are both sugaring for the same daddy and the things that means for both of them. There's been a satisfying (campy) heightening and recommitment to the theme in every episode with the roles and ownership becoming more and more complex and interconnected.

Another theme of sex work camp that is visited and re-visited is "characters doing sex work enjoy sex/sex work". Why? Because the dominant (heteropatriarchal) narrative is that sex workers are doing that job because we've been forced/"Circumstances".

I know this is really putting myself out there, but I know people must be wondering, so let's go there: here's my connections to sex work! I grew up in a family where consensual, by-choice sex work was normalized and I spent a lot of time passively absorbing information about sex work and the people who do it. My family is incredibly sex-positive; a member of my family was a madam pre-covid; former and current sex workers are the celebrated decades-long partners of multiple members of my family. That's just my background, though.

Most of my own personal experience is survival sex work--exchanging sex for things that meet your immediate needs, most often done by people living on or adjacent to the streets, often those with gaps in education. I was homeless at the time I was doing it; I didn't graduate high school. My story has been told a hundred times by a hundred different people. This is part of why I am so passionate on the subject of other narratives about sex workers and other types of sex work getting a chance to feature in media; my story is not just represented but over-represented. But the stories of people I know and love who engaged with the sex work industry far longer than me are still nowhere to be found.

Playboyy showcases sex workers as full people, no different than the rich boys they are dating/'dating', using their full agency to decide what are the best options in their own situations. It treats these decisions as correct and meaningful and doesn't treat the act of choosing sex work as pitiable or an inherently negative choice. The narrative also doesn't punish the characters for doing sex work.

(I'm aware it seems very much that Nant got hurt during sex work. They are going to great pains to humanize that pain, but there are other people whose narratives aren't about them being hurt by sex work: Teena, Soong, Jump. That's how you show a well-rounded story.)

This is the most obvious aspect of the subversive way Playboyy showcases sex work, but Playboyy's also gotten into so many other important things that people who aren't aware of sex worker priorities don't realize might be important.

If you've read opinions from sex workers or spoken to us it's very likely you've heard what problems we have with past portrayals of sex work and sex workers in TV/movies, but if you haven't, people much more qualified to write essays than me have written much better, journalist-quality pieces. Chaospikachu produced some pretty good sources on this post; they are good jumping off points that will give you ideas about what things to google further if that's your jam. (And you should google further--people have been talking about these things since usenet.)

In my experience, many former and current sex workers watch media with us in it because we love us even if society doesn't. I approach media featuring sex work skeptically and expect to be disappointed, but in spite of that approach I have found myself pleasantly surprised so far with Playboyy. The show does have problems, of course--no piece of media is without fault--but there's not much comparison for what they're doing because they've committed so fully to the ideal of 'sex worker camp' that in six (of fourteen) episodes they've already gone leaps and bounds past the places other media stopped.

Here's a little list of other things I've seen in Playboyy that I either haven't seen elsewhere or have seen so rarely that it's still groundbreaking:

SW and clients navigating starting/maintaining a relationship! This is sometimes taboo to talk about, but it happens. It happens a damn lot. Humans are humans, we just fall in love sometimes but this isn't an experience that gets to typically be seen in a complete, unflinching way. There are good parts and bad! I've known people who made it work and I've known people who crashed and burned; there are a lot of really predictable hurdles to pass and Teena/Zouey, Nuth/Phop, and Soong/First are showcasing these in a way no other media I've seen even tries to when depicting this type of relationship.

So many different types of sex work, and sex workers not sticking to one type of work either! This is much more realistic and reflective of my experiences; making money at sex work is often a matter of a lot more weaving of separate hustles together than people who aren't used to poverty seem to have the ability to understand. I can only think of a few very specific and specialized types of sex work that I haven't seen in the show yet and that's weird and wild (positive)! Normally there's one, maybe two or three types of sex work in evidence in a show about sex work so having lots of different types all co-existing is beautiful to me.

Sex workers fucking sex workers for fun and experience! It's so common in my experience but it's not something I've ever seen done before, and the way that they are showing many different types of ways of this happening makes me even happier. (So far we've gotten us having sex with us in these circumstances: for clients, as a means of protection, as a way to 'prove' yourself, and for tutelage.) There can be a real feeling of camaraderie and competition with fellow workers sometimes and Playboyy captures this like nothing I've seen before.

Sex workers having boundaries! Even mid-sex. And the boundaries aren't treated as a joke or a comedic moment that the client then disregards. They're moments of real communication where the boundary gets respected or the encounter ends, for better or worse.

Sex workers having nuanced, complex feelings! Not just about the sex work, but also the events in their lives and each other. Their relationships are complex and give glimpses of how much more there is to be uncovered! Partying, laughing, being angry, being verklempt, finding enemies and finding family with each other. Crying, too, yeah. But there's a whole spectrum of feelings on display beyond the normal tragic ones that are 'allowed', including the desire for sex inside and outside of sex work.

Everyone communicates to the best of their ability! This isn't just a sex worker thing--it applies to First and Zouey as well--but it's normal for media about sex workers to actually involve a lot of misunderstandings that don't get fully discussed. The misunderstandings between characters Playboyy get treated as serious and discussed in a way I haven't seen other BLs show before. Misunderstandings aren't a chance for Plot to fester, but rather a chance for reconciliation. It's just plain great modeling of healthy communication.

All of this and more adds up to Playboyy being a show that knows who their intended audience is and commits to that audience over and over week after week. Not by painting our experiences as flat or singular, but by fully committing to showing a very wide swath of our experiences and humanizing every single choice. You don't have to understand or like the show for these things to still be huge and important for SW representation.

Playboyy is just casually doing what it's doing regardless of the larger opinion, which is the most sex worker camp part of it all. The show knows what it is about even if fandom hasn't figured things out yet.

#playboyy the series #playboyy #playboyy meta #if you can't see this directly because i have you blocked i don't care if you dodge the block #my blocklist isn't personal #it's there to make navigating the site less stressful for me

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