Tumgik
#instead of the dumpster fire I know it is
prolibytherium · 2 months
Text
"Surely Cats (2019) will not be distracting background noise for drawing" <- Idiot
8 notes · View notes
minty-bunni · 2 years
Text
AU where Vlad is this fiercely competitive PTA parent for Elle who fights other parents at bake sales.
Mainly because the stereotype of aggressive PTA moms on tv is made funnier if you toss a supervillian with OP powers into the mix.
93 notes · View notes
faultsofyouth · 3 months
Text
Gotta keep the no weed posts to a minimum lest people think it's actually a good thing I'm smoking less
5 notes · View notes
dullahandyke · 9 months
Text
Like getting compliments irl is always so cool bcos like it's easy to be cool online you're detached from your body and you're only showing whatever of yourself you wanna in spaces you choose to be in. Irl I've been called smart n nonchalant n nonjudgemental n confident n logical and it never fails to boggle my mind bcos thr body and brain receiving those compliments r the same body n brain that keep me from brushing my teeth for months at a time. Good 2 know I am not as outwardly a dumpster fire as I could be
10 notes · View notes
aliferous-ly · 1 year
Text
not to bnha on main but I'm thinking about fuyumi
#i havent seen all of s..6? we're on s6 right? whatever#nor have i read the manga#but i know enough spoilers to be in LOVE with my girl#and i have a fic rattling around in my brain that i dont have enough context for#so spoilers bnha manga if u care abt that#but learning that fuyumi and touya are twins Changed Me because its about the FUCKING SIBLING TRAUMA (2.0)#its about twin's quirks being switched in the womb its about being born next to your best friend and your worst enemy#its about fuyumi wanting her family to be functional instead of the fucking dumpster fire it is#because she already lost touya she cant lose natsuo and shouto too#endeavors like 'trying his best' or whatever but i dont think she.. cares all that much about him.#her being cordial is like glacial politeness. the casual wielding of words.#plus she has such an interesting character set up???#her twin brother is being brutally trained and shes a child and cannot do anything about it#her mother takes her under her wing and tries to teach her the unspoken rules of women in this household#fuyumi hears her twin soul scream bloody murder and cannot lift a finger. she must learn how to sew#then her next brother is born and she thinks of all the ways she cant protect him. but his quirk appears.. similar to hers#shes so desperately relieved. her twin receives new scars every day.#shouto is born. her and her mother stare at each other silently in the home because they know what this will mean.#fuyumi is 12 years old when her mother is sent away. her baby brother throws up because of her father pushing him too hard#fuyumi is now the woman of the house. she is 12. she is a child#touya is gone. hes dead. her twin brother died (because of her father. they all knew touyas weakness)#fuyumi is the eldest. she has to be the glue sticking them together. she makes meals for her scarred brothers.#she is silent. she is scorned for her lack of anger.#who has space for anger when you must become a mother at 12?#fuyumi is an incredible character and if the writer (horikoshi?) wasnt so SHIT at writng female character arcs maybe he would have realized#😭😭😭#ollie rambles#me being true to my tag#FUCK i love fuyumi#sibling relationships always take me tf out but these tragic ones are perfect
5 notes · View notes
aylaaescar · 1 year
Text
yet another 30 Rock joke: Zae and Bobby have broken up (yet again), Tina and/or Verda say good riddance, and Zae says “oh don’t say that, you know, he had some good moments”
and then it’s a montage of all the times Bobby got food
#TWC tag#OTP: Better Than You#OC: Zae Benenati#their dumpster fire on/off relationship entertains me#Bobby shaking the Detective in the middle of the night with a smirk and a ''hey... you wanna... you wanna order cheese steaks?''#my private eye and their unfortunate taste in partners. at least Mason is actually a good choice whew#I actually have quite a few thoughts about Zae and Bobby's on/off relationship but I just make silly posts instead.#but smth smth ''Zae's always struggled with loneliness and thinks that love is the cure for problems'' (in spite of a psych major...)#and they end up in lousy relationships bc it's how they cope w their issues. that is to say: they're bad at coping.#they need therapy but they're ashamed to admit they need help so they don't#and there's so much loneliness from their family life that it's led to these unstable relationships as an adult#as far as their TWC self goes: they date frequently (prior to UB rolling into town) but Bobby is their one biggest constant ~love~ interest#it's all that history together and how much they see each other?? Zae knows he's a bad idea and that they don't work together#but they also DON'T acknowledge it. he's familiar and there's some real feelings there and there's hope that this time they'll work out#a bad habit they just can't drop and some part of them doesn't want to bc they still care#Bobby's a trash fave bc they're undeniably awful lol but I still find them and their thought process + feelings for MC interesting#I think they do genuinely have feelings for MC (if they're an ex at least; maybe also as a former friend) but their ambition and selfishness#are what win out each time#okay bye.
1 note · View note
ceruleanchillin · 4 months
Text
But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)
Note(s) -
It's long, so be warned.
The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.
Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory. 
I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.
And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.
Simon:
Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.
You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.
You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.
Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.
Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S’s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.
He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.
You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.
He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’
As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.
‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?
You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer. 
He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.
He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.
He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.
You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.
You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.
“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”
He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.
“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.
Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.
“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.
“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.
The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.
You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him. 
You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”
He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”
You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”
You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing. 
Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”
“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”
He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.
For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.
“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”
The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.
That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.
You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.
After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by. 
Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation. 
Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.
You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).
It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.
He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator. 
Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.
On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.
The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.
Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.
Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.
You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.
If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.
You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.
It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.
You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.
Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.
The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.
Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”
You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”
“You wanna ride there on the roof?”
The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.
Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two. 
Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.
He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.
To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.
He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often. 
Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.
When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together. 
One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours. 
It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.
Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on. 
You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically. 
On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”
Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”
He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”
Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”
“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”
“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.” 
Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”
You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”
He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.
You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.
The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him. 
Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.
There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else. 
When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.
Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.
He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.
The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.
All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.
You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.
You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.
You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.
Then came the topic of your boyfriend.
“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price
“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap
“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz
 It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’ 
During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.
Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.
“Have fun with the boys, bird?”
“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.
Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”
You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.
He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you. 
“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”
You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.
Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.
You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”
“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”
Kyle:
He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.
Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.
The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.
“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price
“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)
Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.” 
Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.
You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.
You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.
His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.
He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:
“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”
“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”
He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”
“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.
“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”
He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.
“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time. 
Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.
“You’ll get it next time, love.”
He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.
“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”
“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.
Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was. 
He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”
Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.
“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.
“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”
Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.
This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of. 
When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.
He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.
 He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.
When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.
It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.
He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.
“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.
“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”
Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.
You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.
He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.
Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.
You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.
“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”
You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”
Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”
Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”
“Blud, that’s not what you want.”
“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead. 
“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.
Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.
He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate. 
“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.
“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”
Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”
“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’
“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.
He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.
“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.
“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.
Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.
He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”
He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.
“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide. 
Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.
“Yes ma'am.” 
Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.
Johnny:
You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.
You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.
Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you. 
You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.
The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it. 
He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing. 
He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back. 
When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.
It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.
Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.
He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.
“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.
“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”
You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”
“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”
Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.
Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.
“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.
He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.
You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”
“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”
You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.
“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!” 
Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”
Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space. 
“We’ll see.”
Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.
It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend. 
You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.
Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.
“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours. 
You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.
He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”
You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.
John Price:
Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.
The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.
That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.
You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.
He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”
Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”
“Yes.” 
“Well…thank you for your service.” 
Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.
Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.
Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.
“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”
“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.” 
“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.
John wanted to see him try just one.
“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”
You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.
Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him. 
“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.
Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to. 
However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.
It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.
One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.
“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.
“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.
He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.
You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding. 
He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.
“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”
There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.
With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that. 
Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.
There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile. 
Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place. 
“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”
And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.
He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.
You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.
Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.
Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.
He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.
Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.
The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.
You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.
Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.
Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.
The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.
At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.
Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.
It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.
 He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.
“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.
It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth. 
Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?
Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”
Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.
“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”
John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward. 
“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”
“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.
“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”
“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.
He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”
“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.
“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).” 
You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.
He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.
It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.
“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”
In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-
“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”
“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”
“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”
Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”
There it was. John swallowed, hard. 
“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”
John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”
“Just one time.”
It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.
He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back. 
“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.
His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”
What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.
He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.
John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.
He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?
How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?
The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.
He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.
When he stepped into the hall, he paused.
You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.
“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”
“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.
You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”
You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.
“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.
“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.
“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.
“I would hope not.” he also took another step
You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.
“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.
You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”
3K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
As You Wish
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: traumatized reader, fear of touch, anxiety, general nervousness, sweet and understanding Astarion, I'm really in my feels so enjoy this fucking dumpster fire
------------------------
It wasn’t unwelcome, it was surprising. Astarion had physical boundaries, this much is true. But you? You were skittish. Always on edge. Never letting anyone too close. Never letting anyone in. Over time, Astarion’s honeyed words softened you ever so slightly. You could stand to be around him. You flinched less. When he confessed he had feelings for you, you were silent. Astarion almost took back everything he said before you spoke the simplest words.
“Me too.” you smiled subtly. 
He moved towards you to take your hand but you immediately stepped back, eyes darting around to assess the level of threat you felt. 
And most of the time, Astarion played it off. He ignored it. He chopped it up to something small and insignificant. But the more time went on, the more he grew within himself, the more he knew it wasn’t something small. He noticed how you always had your hands behind your back. How you were always inside the safety of your tent the moment you could be. How you sharply avoided any kind of touch. He wanted to know. He needed to. He couldn't help you, couldn’t show you love the way he wanted to. 
So he did things differently. He left a small box outside your tent, inside sat a circlet he had… found. Silver with rubies scattered about it. He knocked on the wooden pole holding up the front of your tent before slinking back into the forest, waiting for your reaction. He watched you pick up the box cautiously. When you looked inside he expected a smile to sprout upon your face, yet a deep frown settled instead. You quickly shut the box, silently walked over to his tent, and set the box outside. Once you had returned to your tent, Astarion returned to his. He sat and held the circlet in his hands, thumbs smoothing over the metal and stones as he thought. He would simply have to find another way to show you he loved you. 
-----------------------------------
The next morning, he waited for you to leave your tent. Once he saw you he jogged up to you. You smiled but backed up from him two paces like always. He used to take offense but now this is just what he knew to expect from you. 
“Hello my sweet.” he greeted you.
You nodded at him, smiling still. 
“How is my little love?” he asked.
You sat on the edge of the log that rested next to the fire pit. He sat with you. “Good. You?” 
“Delightful now that I’m with you. My beautiful, talented, wonderful darling.” he fawned over you. 
His honeyed words felt sickly sweet, making your stomach churn. Your face fell into a flushed, worried look. You looked away before quickly moving off the log, “Excuse me.” you said before you quickly walked back to your tent, disappearing within. 
Astarion sighed. No gifts. No touches. No sweet words. Onto the next idea. 
--------------------------------
This was fool proof, he was sure of it. Not only had he cleaned and sharpened your favorite daggers, he enchanted them. After a particularly difficult incantation, their aim was exact. He knew this would be perfect for showing you how he felt. You noticed the gleam on them immediately, how they cut through anything and everything like fire through ice. Your aim was immaculate, to a suspicious point. After battling and adventuring all day you couldn’t help but notice Astarion’s smirk he had. 
“What?” you asked softly.
“Do you like your daggers?” he asked. 
You looked at them before shrugging, “I suppose?” 
His face dropped a little, did you not notice? “Your aim today is impressive.” he said, winking at you.
You looked down at the daggers, a soft pink glow emitting from them. Your eyebrows drew together, “What did you do?” 
“Improved them,” he smiled, “Sharper. Cleaner. More accurate.” he waved his hand at you, waiting for your thanks. 
Instead, he heard the metal of the blades clink against the log next to him. You left them with him as you walked away. As always, back to your safe haven, your tent. 
He groaned out, falling backwards and laying in the dirt. He didn’t know what else to do, but he knew he would keep trying.
--------------------------------
“Darling?” Astarion called to you from the front of your tent. Your eyes snapped up as you heard rustling. He walked into your tent, a book in his hands. You were frozen in place, nobody had ever been inside your tent. You felt like an animal caught in a snare.” 
“Why are you in my space?” you asked bluntly. 
“Can we talk?” he asked.
You nodded, noticing the tremble in your hands as you moved. He kept his distance. “I… I don’t know how to love you…” he said. His tone was heartbreaking, defeated. “Everything I’ve tried… you don’t seem to like.” 
You felt sorry for him, you wanted to comfort him. “It’s not you…” you whispered. 
“Then what is it little love?” he asked with a tinge of hope in his voice. 
You looked down, drawing your knees to your chest. “I have… never known kindness. Not a kind hand, kind word, kind gesture… I don’t know what to do with the kindness you show me.” you said honestly. The world is unkind, and it had been especially unkind to you. You feared everything. 
Astarions whole face fell with realization. You weren’t uninterested or unimpressed with him. You were unsure. 
“Do you trust me?” he asked in a tone just above a whisper.
Your eyes finally met his. Big, round, and vulnerable you couldn’t help but nod. 
He inched closer, putting his hands out “Trust me.” he said as he sat across from you. He reached out slowly. You flinched away a bit but waited to see what he was trying to accomplish. His cold fingers deftly touched your hands. Softly moving up your arms, he watched as goosebumps appeared. When he reached your face, he cradled your cheek. Instinctively, you pressed your cheek into him before cupping his hand with your own, releasing a shaky breath. 
You snuggled into his hand, “This… I like this.” you mumbled before very cautiously kissing his palm. 
He smiled at you, “Will you let me love you from now on. Show you kindness in all its forms. Show you what you deserve?” he scooted even closer, you could feel his breaths fanning over your skin.
“Please.” you almost begged, having longed for someone to love you. 
“As you wish.” he smiled before kissing you gently.
You let out a squeak in surprise before kissing him back. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but gods you never wanted it to stop.
-----------------------
Naboo's Note:
Hello :) I hope this is ok, my motivation is on the floor but I wanted to give your guys something. If it doesn't make sense or blows let me know and I'll take it down or rework it somehow. I hope everyone is doing well XOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!
273 notes · View notes
tojisun · 11 months
Text
i fall to pieces
dilf!toji x college student!fem reader
!! this is a mess of tropes that i’ve always wanted to explore (such as lovingly tending injuries and being in love with your best friend’s dad) - the second one is a major CW; legal age gap (reader is in her early 20s and toji is in his late 40s); mentions of bullying (not between toji and the reader); petnames; no curses au // 2.9k words
: i had fun writing this even though i kinda forgot what the plot is midway; i hope u guys would like it <33; title is from cherry - lana
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
your knuckles, the ones that aren’t bruised, raps on the door, impatience thrumming in your veins. the ache in your jaw still stings, but you are far too focused on the split skin on your knuckles and how the trickling blood had turned the hems of your cream-coloured long sleeves into a garish sight. your chest heaves at another ragged exhale, your whole body trembling, feeling the burning remnants of exhaustion. 
the door opens after your last bout of knocks.
“jesus, what- y/n?”
you startle, not expecting toji to be the one to answer the door.
“what the fuck happened to you?” he asks when you didn’t reply, reaching to wrap around your less injured hand, clasping his thick fingers and warm palm around your wrist to tug you inside the quaint home. 
“uh,” you say unintelligibly, following him with unsteady feet as he leads you two to the living room. “is gumi-chan here, fushiguro-san?” is what you said instead, not really knowing where to even begin with unpacking the dumpster fire of a fight that you were in just minutes ago. 
he clicks his tongue. “i told you to just call me ‘toji’, kid.” he sits you on the sofa, your body bouncing on the plush cushions in a cartoonish way. “and brat’s with y’r other friend. the loud one with pink hair.”
you hum. “yuuji,” you say even though toji would just forget your friend’s name again.
he grunts. “yeah, that one. a’right, you,” toji points at you. “y’stay here and don’t even think about movin’.” then he disappears, his feet padding quietly on the wooden floors. 
only when he’s left do you realize how tense you still are, your shoulders poised as if expecting an attack. you force yourself to let go, feeling your body tremble at the extra effort it needed to exert to unwind your aching body. your eyes slip shut, your brows furrowing as your side throbs in pain again. fuck, you thought, the bitch got me good. 
any other day, you would’ve found yourself winning a tussle with no injuries. or, you grumbled to yourself, i wouldn’t even be in the tussle. but they had no right to pick on mai like that. 
(“heard you sucked cocks to get here,” fake blondie crooned as she wagged her stick-like finger, tutting like mai was a child.
mai bristled—who wouldn’t? 
she’s put countless efforts to get to where she is right now, and for her integrity to be questioned, because what? mai’s too pretty, too confident in herself, for a smart kid? clearly fake blondie hasn't seen enough of your friend group if she’s baffled by how someone could be smart and pretty and confident. even panda was charming, and no one even knows what he looks like underneath that mask he stuffs his head in. 
so next thing you knew nobara was throwing a punch, with momo jumping at fake blondie, and of course you had to join in; you weren’t going to let your girls fight on their own. but then one of fake blondie’s friends pulled out a bat out of nowhere and hit you at your side. 
you stumbled on your feet, almost tumbling to your knees at the sharp pain. mai’s shrill scream had been enough of a wake-up call before you were reaching at bat girl’s hair and yanking hard, forcing her to crumple before you. 
it was a blur after that. then mai was nudging you out of the alley, murmuring her thanks, before you four were parting ways.)
you hear toji walking back in and you peel your eyes open, tracking him as he makes his way back to you. he falls on the floor, almost between your legs, and your breath stutters when you realize the lack of proper distance between you and your best friend’s dad, so you clamp your legs shut and looked away just before toji could lift his head to meet your eyes. 
you startle when warm hands clasp with yours, your eyes jumping back to toji.
“easy,” he grunts like your heart isn’t thrumming loud and fast within the cages of your ribs. you swallow the lump lodged in your throat.
“ok-y,” you reply, internally cringing when your voice breaks at the end of a single word. fuck, you’re a mess. you clear your throat, feigning nonchalance even as toji begins uncapping the alcohol. “okay,” you repeat.  
he hums, spilling alcohol into the cotton ball before pressing the soaked cotton on your split skin. a hiss makes it past your teeth before you are clamping your lips tightly, trying your best not to jostle your body any more. you didn’t even notice your flinch until you hear toji’s soft shh sounds, his thumb running soothing circles on the part of your skin that isn’t wounded or bruised.
“m’sorry,” you murmur, feeling shy all of a sudden, your lips still pursed at the dull thrum of pain.
“s’fine,” he says. “should’a warned you.” toji pauses, the cotton pinched between thick fingers. he looks at you. “good to go?”
you nod, not trusting your treacherous voice anymore. 
toji’s lips quirk up in a small smile. “good girl.”
your mind screeches to a halt, your breath getting stuck in your lungs. it is like the world has stopped orbiting—it hasn’t, not when you can see toji dressing your wounds with gentle hands and even gentler touch—and all that’s left is the echoing words that toji just uttered.
good girl, he said naturally. genuinely. 
good girl, he said in a voice that denoted nothing out of the norm, the same way we’d say the sky is blue and the ocean is deep and you are a good girl. 
(his good girl.)
good girl, he said like he meant it.
fuck. fuck.
a squeal is building in your throat, your body trembling softly as the emotions seated in your chest began to expand and spill over and–
“ow!” you hiss, unconsciously tugging your hand away from toji’s hold, feeling the bite of stinging alcohol running along your tender skin where scratches and beading blood laid.
toji blinks at you. you blink at him in return, feeling prickles of embarrassment creeping from the base of your neck. 
you laugh, something so fake and brittle, feeling so ashamed and awkward. “sorry.”
toji shakes his head, huffing fondly, and his eyes crinkling in such a soft way. “c’mon kid, give y’r hand to me and we can finish patchin’ it up.”
you gingerly give him your hand again, licking your lips, wanting to say something even though words aren’t structuring themselves properly in your head, only to collapse into silence as toji’s hands cradle yours softly once again.
(he’s always been so soft with you.)
he hums, approval dancing in his tone. “y’r doin’ well, kid.”
before you could stop yourself, a wheeze punches itself past your throat. christ, the praises.
toji looks up, concerned.
“just parched,” you say before he could ask, feigning dry coughs to strengthen your obvious lie.
“…i’ll get you somethin’ after this,” toji replies hesitantly. “you still like those ramune, yeah?” 
“yeah,” you answer, your voice curling as you smile, watching as toji begins to bandage your hand. your cheeks tingle when toji’s lips tug up at hearing your quiet excitement. 
you cough, clearing your throat. “i’m shocked gumi-chan kept a stock here,” you say, after a while, wanting to break the loaded silence. “he said he doesn’t like them anymore.” your nose scrunches in judgement.
toji kept to himself for a moment and you wondered if you said something wrong. shame curls in your stomach, chasing away the previous excitement that had been budding in your chest. an apology sits on your tongue, prickling and heavy, then toji huffs. it’s only then do you notice that the bandages are secured but toji still hasn’t let go of your hand. 
“yeah, megumi’s done with ‘em,” he finally says, running soothing circles on your skin again. “i just kept buyin’ a bunch cause i know you like ‘em.”
“oh,” you mutter, feeling so breathless and choked up at the same time. 
toji chuckles without humour. “yeah. ‘oh’.” 
there’s a certain hesitancy in his next caress, an internal battle flickering from within his eyes, and you feel lost, anxiety and desire mixing in an uneasy tandem, overwhelming your veins to the point of silencing the previous beating you had. then, toji lets go.
your hands twitch, jolting to pull him back, but you catch yourself before your touch can connect. but it’s too late: toji had seen your aborted move.
he looks at you, searching for something in your eyes. a heartbeat passed, and you don’t know what’s gotten into you but you fall into his space, your knees hitting the floor with a loud thud. it’d be another pair of bruises that you’d carry home today but for now, with trembling arms and roaring heart, you let your hope choke you to the point of acting stupidly.
the kiss was chaste, cracked lips just landing on top of scarred ones. the world felt faraway yet scorching at the same time.
you feel toji tense under you and panic explodes in your chest.
stupid. stupid!
you pull back, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but you are stopped by toji’s arms encircling your waist to tug you to his lap. one of toji’s arms snake to your back, his palm coming to rest on the back of your head, before you feel him pulling you back into another kiss. this one is deeper. more heated. more desperate.
good. you think to yourself as your eyes shut close, feeling yourself drowning in toji’s kiss. so good.
you loop your arms around toji’s neck, tugging him closer as if you two aren’t already pressed flushed onto each other, raking your fingers through the straight strands of his hair. 
you savour the kiss, the moment, toji’s touch. you know that after this, there will be nothing between you and toji. a shared kiss is easy to forget as time crawls by, after all, nothing good will come out if things between yourselves are made serious. you’re not allowed to hope.
but god, the way you still do.
you hope that toji would make you his, whatever “being his” even means. you hope that he’d whisper confessions, stilted as they always are from toji’s lips, or praises. lots and lots of praises. you hope that when you two pull apart for air, toji would push himself back in your space and kiss you again, just as yearning as you are.
(you hope he loves you just as much.)
then, despite your internal cries of ‘too soon’, toji is pulling himself from the kiss. you let go, sucking in air desperately, filling your lungs with needed air to distract yourself from the searing loneliness that is crushing you already. 
you clamber off his lap, not meeting his eyes, only to pause when toji refused to let you go.
“uhm,” you begin, trying your best to ignore the tingling of your lips, when toji refused to budge. “toji-san?”
you startle when he cups your cheeks. “told you it’s just ‘toji’, kid.”
“okay,” you murmur. “toji, what’s, uhm, what’s up?”
he chuckles. “well if you keep rollin’ your hips, then somethin’s gon’ be up, a’right.”
you choke, startling on his lap upon hearing his words, the previous tensed atmosphere shattering into something light and humorous. “what the hell?”
but toji doesn’t regale you a response, instead he caresses the skin under your eye, smiling cheekily. “my pretty girl,” he coos. 
your lips part, ready for just as cheeky of a response, when toji’s eyes turn sharp and steely, chasing away the stuttering words on the tip of your tongue. 
“you fought them well, didn’t you?” he continues, his voice still in that crooning tone. “you came to me, beautiful in y’r anger.” toji’s voice has turned into measured murmurs. “and i know you must’ve won—you always do, kid.”
you nod, not knowing where the conversation is going.
“but you came to me, bleedin’ and achin’ and it terrified me.” he leans forward and presses a kiss on the corner of your lips. “and it got me thinkin’–” he pauses, going silent.
you shiver, feeling the way his lips are still pressed on your skin, ghosting with their touch—teasing, caressing. the desire keeps growing in the pit of your stomach.
then, toji pulls back, his eyes finding yours as he says, “i don’t think i can handle lettin’ you go anymore, pretendin’ i don’t love you.” 
“what.” your voice came out as a gasp, your lips (still tingling from toji’s kiss, you noticed with satisfaction) falling in surprise.
“wait,” you say because you couldn’t fathom a reality where toji said he loves you. “what?”
“c’mon kid, up-up,” he replies instead, carefully pushing you off his lap and urging you to stand before he can clamber to his feet. you follow his command, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed by everything.
he loves you?
“let’s get you y’r ramune,” he continues, pulling you to the kitchen, like he didn’t just drop a bombshell on you. still, you follow him to the kitchen—you would honestly follow him everywhere—hovering by the fridge, bandaged hand intertwined with toji’s own scarred hand, watching as he rummages past refrigerated produce, before pulling out the peach-flavoured soda. your favourite. 
toji lets go of your hand and rips the seal off the nozzle before pushing on the ball. the clink of glass on glass is the only sound in the kitchen as toji turns and hands you the drink. 
“thank you,” you say before taking a sip.
toji leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead. “always.”
your cheeks burn, your veins thrumming with each wild pump of your yearning heart. the affection you have for him is spilling over and even with toji’s disjointed confession, you know it’s your turn to make the move.
so you step on your tiptoes, kissing toji on his jaw, before murmuring, “i’ve loved you since.”
as if that was all that toji had been waiting for, toji doesn’t waste any time before he’s scooping you off the floor and plopping you on the counter, his lips are hot as they met yours for another kiss. he cups your jaw, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. the ramune slips from your hold but toji catches the soda, plopping it beside you, before turning his now free hands to touch whatever they could of your body. you reciprocate with the same ferocity, tugging at black strands and nipping his bottom lip, trying to convey the want and the love and the heat simmering inside you.
toji growls, deep and satisfied, his voice rumbling between you two. it was loaded with an emotion that easily reflected the storm raging in your chest, silencing the budding uncertainty over toji’s affections for you. you scratch at his back, trying to hold onto him tighter, afraid that this is just another dream.
(you used to count every single one of them, only stopping when one of those dreams left you too raw, feeling like you have been gutted and left to bleed on your bed.
you don’t remember the whole of it, but even with only the fragments you were left with, you know why you ache: flashes of a little kid with toji’s eyes and your nose; flashes of a life beyond flirty conversations and fleeting touches; flashes of vows that lasted a lifetime. 
you woke up sobbing in your dorm room, feeling so small, so robbed of what you wish life could be with toji.)
toji pulls back, the whine in your throat cutting off into a moan when his lips latch on your throat, sucking and biting—marking you up because you are his. you arch your back, giving toji more room to stake his claim on you. 
lust and love are mixing, leaving you breathless and teary-eyed because god you’ve been waiting for this for so long. 
“love you,” you hiccup, trembling when toji’s hands hook under your shirt, tickling your skin with his ghosting touch.
“shh,” toji murmurs, fond and understanding, straightening up to gaze back at you again. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.” he loops your legs around his waist before toji is hoisting you up in his arms and, without staggering, carrying you to his room.
your eyes flutter when he carefully lays you down on his bed, his eyes watching you with reverence. 
“let me love you,” he whispers.
you nod, softly. desperately. “please.”
his touch is a gentle scorch, his bigger body easily covering yours. when he thrusts, it is deep and and strong and filling, reaching your most intimate parts with measured strokes and unwavering intensity. when you cry his name, he croons and coos, praises spilling from his scarred lips along with his promises of loving you and caring for you, something that is so sentimental even as he continues to fuck you filthily.
“my sweet girl,” he murmurs on your skin, his lips latched on your collarbone. you almost don’t hear him amidst the consistent slaps of his thighs on your pelvis. “my precious, sweet girl.”
that’s how you cum: toji deep in you, your name slipping past his lips like prayer, and your pleasure consuming your every nerve.
you know things aren’t perfect, not yet anyway, but your mind is a mush, overwhelmed with toji (his scent, his touch, his words), your body is singing with euphoric contentment so you bury the worries deep in the pockets of your chest because for now, you are in the arms of the man you love. and he loves you just as firmly. 
993 notes · View notes
queenimmadolla · 5 months
Note
Hey hun, Ive got a horrible chest cold AND im on my period at the same time, so as you can imagine I feel like a dumpster shit fire right now. If its possible could you do a little drabble where Eddie is nursing a sick reader. If not i totally understand I know youve got a lot on your plate atm. Thanks hun, love ya ❤️
happy to drop everything to nurse one of our own back to health 🫡. hope this helps make you feel better!
Tumblr media
“I’m dying.” You whined from the mounds of blankets you were surrounded by, with a pathetic sniffle.
  “You’re not dying.” Eddie refuted, as he measured out your medicine, pouring the bitter syrupy liquid into the cap you’d have to throw back. He was also trying to hide his grin.
  It’s not that Eddie liked it when you were sick, but now that the two of you lived together—in a crappy one bedroom apartment that was the best thing in the world because it was yours—he could nurse you back to health, take care of you. And if you just so happened to be extra cuddly whenever you were sick, that was just a plus.
  It was domestic. 
  Eddie loved living with you, even if you left all the bottom cabinet doors open whenever you retrieved something and he’d bust his knee against them, loved that you were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning and the last thing he glimpsed before falling asleep. Loved brushing his teeth in the mirror with you at his side doing the same thing, loved how he had a five minute window to convince you it was a good idea for the two of you to just stay home together instead of parting to go out into the world. Most of all, he loved being able to look up from whatever he was doing, be it planning out future Hellfire sessions or working on a new song or even catching up on his reading, to see you curled into the loveseat, or in the kitchen, hear you humming as you walked down the hall. 
  Existing around him.
  Co-existing with you was something Eddie wanted to do forever. If this was married life, Eddie would be on his knee the second you felt better. 
  “I’m dying.” You reaffirmed, scowling when Eddie turned around and you caught sight of the yellow–never a good tasting color for medicine–liquid filled measuring cap in Eddie’s large grasp. 
“You’re not dying on me, baby. I refuse to let that happen. Now, take your medicine so we can make sure it doesn’t.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, medicine held out to you.
  Gingerly, you grasped it and when he reached for the orange juice on your side table, you switched up, “You know what? You’re right. I’m not dying. I feel better already.”
  “Drink the medicine,” Eddie smirked, handing you the glass. 
  “But it’s Prescription.” Your frown deepened, tongue already assaulted by the idea of what it would taste like. Eddie had taken you to the doctor’s yesterday morning and picked up your prescription after so you’d had the pleasure of taking it three times already. 
  It was a nasty son of bitch.
  “Which means you’ll get better faster. Drink.”
  You gave him one last glare before downing the medicine like a shot. Your face contorted in disgust and Eddie chuckled as you hurried to take a drink of your orange juice to wash the taste away.
  “That’s poison.” You croaked, handing Eddie the juice and empty medicine cup before settling back into your pillows with a pout just as an onslaught of coughs hit you, sending you into a fit you muffled against your inner elbow. 
  Eddie could hear your chest rattle with them and placed your medicine cup and glass down on the bedside table so he could rub your back.
  Once your coughing fit had subsided, you took a couple of shaky breaths before glaring up at him again, “It didn’t work.”
  Eddie rolled his eyes and nudged you over, much to your surprise. The bed was littered with your used tissues, some having been coughed into and others containing your snot. Not exactly the place to want to be.
  “My poor, sweet, gross baby.” He cooed as he settled in behind you, pulling you right into his chest.
  You ignored the gross comment and protested even though you were curling right into him, nose nuzzling against his hoodie covered collar bone, eager for his warmth. Of course you’d gotten sick just as winter settled.
  “Eddie! You’re gonna get sick.” A pitiful argument considering you were already settled on him like a cat having found their new lounging spot. 
  “Oh, I know I am. Who cares? I slept next to you last night and woke up to a hill of your snotty tissues in my face so it’s already in my system. No use in denying myself the love of my life.” You felt his hand drift lower until he was patting your ass cheek. He wasn’t trying to start anything, it was just one of Eddie’s many love gestures. When he’d ask if he could squeeze your ass like it was some sort of stress ball to comfort him—that’s when he was going for it. 
  “It wouldn’t be in your system if you hadn’t insisted on still sleeping with me last night.” You reminded him and felt him shrug under you in response. You peaked up at him to see him relaxed, one arm propping his head up with the other holding you to him. His eyes were shut and a look of utter content was on his face. It was almost like he’d been the one to take the codeine. 
  “We didn’t move in together so I can avoid you, this is just some more experience for us. You deal with my morning breath, I deal with having our bed covered in germs when you’re sick.”  His hand began to stroke up and down your back and your eyes fluttered shut, the codeine making quick work of your system. 
  “Why am I the one suffering in both of those scenarios?” You slurred out.
  Eddie shook with laughter underneath you, “Shut up and go to sleep. I’ll make you some soup when you wake up, you jerk.” 
  You did fall asleep. And when you woke up, Eddie insisted on carrying you—because a chest cold apparently meant you couldn’t walk yourself anywhere—to the living room where you watched some television while he did his best to follow a recipe your mother had given him for a homemade soup she’d make whenever you were sick. 
And three days later, when you’d made a full recovery, Eddie developed a rattling cough. The ring he’d hidden in a pair of his shoes would just have to wait until you nursed him back to health.
343 notes · View notes
absolutebl · 23 days
Text
What to watch after Pit Babe? Thai BL Actor Guide
Tumblr media
So you loved Pit Babe and you wanna see your favorite BL boy in his old series? But should you?
Here's a guide...
Tumblr media
Babe AKA Pavel - 2 Moons 2
Pavel is one of my favorite actors in BL (he's this blog's icon for a reason) and actually 2 Moons 2 is pretty good, primarily because of his character, Forth. Who has an actual character evolution and growth arc... in a BL!
Amazing.
Don't be fooled 2 Moons 2 is a reboot and extension of 2 Moons, not a spin off. So you don't have to have watched the first iteration, in fact I recommend against it.
Tumblr media
Anygay, the main couple of 2M2 is naff, but Forth is great and Pavel is great as that character. He has good chemistry with his pairing, and as a BL fan it's not a bad idea to know your 2 Moon's roots. 2 Moons is one of the most popular Y-novels ever written, one of the most popular shows of it's time, and the perpetuator of many Thai BL tropes.
Pavel's second BL, Coffee Melody, is not worth watching.
Tumblr media
If Babe was your favorite character, and Babe & Charlie a pairing you enjoy, I would suggest Big Dragon as your next BL. Same vibes, high heat, chaotic. Another possibility is the slightly lower heat but stil unhinged Laws of Attraction.
You also might like some stuff out of Taiwan. They tend to have the angst + high heat + sappy softness that characterized Charlie + Babe.
Tumblr media
Way AKA Nut - Oxygen
Nut is way different in his previous rolls, as the lead in both Oxygen, and Something in My Room. Same gorgeous voice and soulful eyes and Nut tends to play sensitive torn characters but the similarities end there.
In Oxygen, his acting is stiff. In fact, Oxygen as a whole is pretty stiff. I like it very much and it is a big comfort watch for me because of it's smooth peaceful softness, but it's flawed, slow and awkward. I did an episode by episode thing for that show (my first watch along).
Tumblr media
In his second BL, Something in My Room, Nut demonstrates improved acting and chemistry, but I don't recommend it. It's a touch of horror, built on the "my ghost boyfriend" trope, and it's quite sad.
So try Oxygen but if what you're after is more BL with a Way-like main character then I would recommend Moonlight Chicken or The Eclipse chewy BL with sensitive boys and some grey morality.
Tumblr media
Jeff AKA Pon - Starhunter Talent
Pon was with Starhunter before this and so has appearances in several of their BLs. He's demonstrated great natural acting talent, charisma, and good chemistry with all his pairs but because he often appeared in chaotic ensemble pieces has been easily forgotten (including by me). Starhunter chronically underused him but also utterly miss-applied him.
Tumblr media
Gen Y 2 is actually a master class in flawed casting. They put Pon into a triangle, where he plays a fated mate pining uke against a very stiff lead pair - but they expected us not to want him to be end game. Big mistake. Watch this mess if you just want to see how a good actor can eat up all the air of a bad pair, winning hearts and influencing fans.
Otherwise the Gen Y series is a bloated mess, and I can't recommend them. I trashed watched so you don't have too. While Pon demonstrates skills against a backdrop of ranging tallent, oddball story, and chaotic outcomes I wouldn't have bothered if not for the dumpster fire.
Pon's first BL is The Moment, and he's good in it, but it's a terrible show. Boring and plotless.
He's fantastic in Make A Wish but only a side part (despite what is said in MDL) and his arc is VERY sad. Still it's a GREAT under appreciated BL, I recommend it as the one to watch if you have to see Pon in something else. It's nothing like Pit Babe though.
Yeah our pathway for Pon ends here, so lets look, instead, at
Tumblr media
Alan & Jeff - Bed Friend
This was Sailub's first BL role, and I speak for all of us when I say... more please.
So instead of a watching a pathway for him, I'm gonna give you a few BL suggestions based on the assumption that this side couple was your favorite from this series (as it was mine).
What we had with this pairing was
older sensitive sweetheart sunshine seme + tortured dark scared tsundere uke.
FUN dynamic! Here are some options where this style took center stage:
Bed Friend
Between Us
Love By Chance (AePete only)
Triage
Tokyo in April is
I Became the Main Role of a BL
Tumblr media
Pete & Kenta - Word of Honor
Ah you like your boys troubled with money, questionable morals, and the slight inclination to pick at their fingernails with a knife?
Tumblr media
Neither Garfield nor Ping have done other BLs but here are my picks for BLs that feature this kind of character and dynamic, and we are leaving Thailand for these (since it's darker territory than Thailand usually handles... well).
HIStory 3: Trapped 
Long Time No See 
Irresistible Love
Word of Honor
Where Your Eyes Linger
Other familiar faces
Tumblr media
NORTH AKA Michael
North played by Michael was our big comedy insert for this show.
But all his roles prior to this were very serious. Till the World Ends and Call It What You Want are practically depressing, even his role in Oxygen is pretty dark. He actually has been in BL a very long time, he was one of Noh's friends in Love Sick at just 18. Frankly, that'd waht you should watch if you are gonna watch any of his back catelogue, but it's NOTHING like Pit Babe or his role in it, still it's the beginning of Thai BL and Noh is a little sunshine of chaos, and it's great so...
Where was I?
If you really want a comedic himbo lead character there are are quite a few out there, and it's a crazy playing field because Japan is in it to win it.
Tumblr media
Leaving aside high school stuff, here are some options:
Cherry Magic (Japan)
Ossan’s Love 
Mr Unlucky Can Only Kiss
Love Tractor
Bad Buddy
Love Stage!!
My Day
History 4: Close to You
KIM AKA Benz
Benz who played Kim has also done BL before, En of Love: This Is Love Story, but it is not good and not worth watching.
While I want the queer Falling Into Your Smile or Love O2O or Appledog more than anything, that doesn't exist. We have yet to have a true gaymer BL. (I mean come on, nerdy queer is practically a stereotype at this point, where is it?)
Tumblr media
All of which is to say if Kim was your favorite... I don't know. Our Dating Sim maybe Semantic Error?
WINNER AKA Pop
Pop has lead out a BL, it's a very slow, very queer, very unwatched piece called La Cuisine.
Tumblr media
@heretherebedork and I loved it, but it's hard to imagine anyone else enjoying it. You have to be a hard BL stan to tolerate the pace and pulp quality of that one. He's a completely different character but if you really like the actor try him in La Cuisine, I think he was better cast for that than Pit Babe.
Tumblr media
I just enjoyed the show in general, what's next?
In general, if you really enjoyed Pit Babe itself as a series (and it's multiple couples and chaotic noise and erratic concept) you're in the KinnPorsche camp of Thai BL. I actually made a "watch next" pathways and rating guide for that show, which might work for you.
Specifically I would say Manner of Death. It's a little more focused in character and plot but still a wild ride. And MaxTul are the Kings for a reason.
You might also try Not Me, Never Let Me Go, and 3 Will Be Free although all of these, coming from GMMTV, are lower heat levels than Pit Babe.
Finally, seriously, try The Sign. I know it was airing "in competition" but there is room in your heart for both shows. I promise. They have the same wild sexy energy, and are loads of fun.
(source)
130 notes · View notes
qc-wiggles · 5 months
Text
they say write what you know and what i know is academic stress and yearbook pain. so anyways it's a yearbook club au!!!!
YEARBOOK CLUB MEMBERS:
supervising teachers: gertrude and leitner. they become uncontactable like a week into the project (do they die? do they resign? tim has a running theory that they eloped.)
elias: head of yearbook club. dips unexpectedly in the middle of the entire thing (something about an optical surgery) and forces jon to take over. his dad paid for the adobe subscription they’re using 
rosie: treasurer, she’s very efficient, they’ve probably exchanged like 3 emails in total and she’s gotten everything funded. knows well enough to stay out of the dumpster fire that is yearbook production otherwise
jon: de facto head of yearbook club. thinks it should have gone to sasha instead. hes a bit incompetent but plans like it’s doomsday the next week so they are always in a wealth of excel sheets. writer, editor
tim: joined partly because he wanted an excuse to get out of football fixtures. also because he is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked him. he has a tiktok. marketing, editor
sasha: joined partly to impress gertrude (she’s looking for her to write her letter of recommendation as head girl in sixth form). also because she is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked her. she still uses livejournal. designer, writer
gerry: sixth form, occasionally helps out with networking at gertrude’s behest. tim is a bit starstruck over him. he saves their asses many, many times
melanie and georgie: got unofficially roped in as photographers. why you ask? manuela dominguez may have the cutting edge cameras but she is simply too scary to approach. melanie has a youtube channel that all the girls and tim are apparently subscribed to. 
martin: there is not one single picture of him. apparently he didn’t turn up for photo day, neither was he involved in any school events. even the people who have shared half-remembered facts about him seem to forget about him when questioned a second time. where did he go?
PLOT:
it’s the month before the yearbook is due to be sent in for production, and the team have discovered numerous issues with the draft: pictures of random people keep getting swapped over like they’ve been photoshopped, some pages are illegible and distorted unless they are physically written out in hand and scanned, one paragraph is a leitner. and nobody can find martin blackwood so they can get his picture in the yearbook. what will they do.
SIDE CHARACTERS:
annabelle cane: current head girl
mikaele salesa: somehow knows literally everyone, involved in the funding of yearbook production
mike crew: uneasy alliance with gerry in their pursuit of jurgen leitner 
oliver banks: had a mental breakdown sometime during his gcses but hes fine now
david from research: nobody says it to his face but he has genuinely the most atrocious clothing choice in the entire school apart from michael shelley, and even then michael shelley makes work
grifter’s bone: the band of the school, except no one actually knows anyone who’s part of it. their shows are legendarily terrible. manuela says ambulances were phoned. 
daisy and basira: prefects, currently invested in making sure yearbook club remains LEGAL and not STALKING ANY STAFF OR STUDENTS, JON
jmag: principal. boo. what a creep
julia montauk: apparently her dad went to jail. but who is she living with now? i don’t know, manuela told me. how does manuela know? julia told her in a sleepover during year 6. and she’s telling other people? wow. that’s messed up. is that old guy her grandpa? why does he carry a rifle around
jared hopworth: prejudiced gymbro, but importantly, NOT a homophobe.
the admiral: what else needs to be said
FAMOUS ALUMNI:
agnes montague (campus celebrity from literally decades ago) (her relationship with jack barnabas is mythicised)
jude perry (allegedly caused some fire-related, agnes-related events)
edwin burroughs (allegedly commited atrocities during one year’s christmas dinner)
jane prentiss (left for uni a year ago, allegedly brought many live organisms onto campus) (keeps talking about this guy called jordan)
eric delano (he did WHAT to his eyes)
MISCELLANEOUS POINTS:
daedalus crew is astronomy club
breekon and hope are the manufacturers for much of the schools equipment and stationery
jon keeps finding notes from gertrude stashed in random places about yearbook difficulties its like a fun cool treasure hunt
they cant figure out where a computer they were initially using for yearbook club is from. it says ‘ushanka’ on the bottom of the display and the keys are slightly crusty
what the hell are the drama students actually up to 
255 notes · View notes
jewbeloved · 1 month
Text
How would the guys confess to you on Valentine's Day 💌
Note: This is 3 days late I know, I was on a writers block and I was having a fever and I kept throwing up in the progress while my stomach hurted and I missed a day to go to school on Wednesday to do my test because of that. And now I got a massive headache, everything is just spinning at once I can't take it anymore. 😭
Warnings: Absolutely none.
Characters used: The main boys.
Gender: Neutral
Tumblr media
💙 Stan Marsh 💠
Tumblr media
Man wants to confess to you on Valentine's Day, he literally be eyeing his calendar and keeping track of the days leading up to Valentine's Day.
But when the day actually comes?
Oh sh!t, he's already in a panic. He doesn't know what to give to you or how to even approach you in general to confess.
He went to Kyle for advice and even practicing his confession for you with him. He knows Valentine's Day can be a really special day for your friends and s/os.
He doesn't want to mess up or make things awkward by vomiting all over you like how he did when he was with Wendy :(
He probably might go with basic presents such as: chocolate, teddy bear, etc.
He will confess to you behind the school just in case his confession goes up in flames and he doesn't want other people to see.
"Uhm, Hi..(Name)...I know it's Valentine's Day and all....and I was just wondering if you wanted to be my valentine...". 💙💙💙💙💙💙
💚 Kyle Broflovski ☘️
Tumblr media
Jews aren't supposed to have valentines-
Just kidding.
But seriously though every time this boy has a love interest it always ends up in a complete dumpster fire for him. (Not Cartman being the man cause for it anyways).
You and him have been good friends for a good couple of months and Valentine's Day has finally arrived.
This is his moment to shine and he won't let anyone ruin it for him, not even the fatass-.
He already got a big 4ft sized teddy bear with a heart box that has your favorite candy or sweet inside it. He also got you both matching outfits to wear if you accept his confession.
He probably might want to confess to you in the park near a big tree. (Yeah, classic romance confessions)
Please accept this boy's confession, it will literally make him the happiest jew in south park.
"Hi (Name)! I hope nobody else has confessed to you...or maybe they have. But I just wanted to ask you if you could be my valentine for this holiday".
❤️ Eric Cartman 🔥
Tumblr media
Cartman is mysteriously preping for something and not being an ass as his usual routine?
I wonder what's on his mind.........probably you.
He obviously doesn't know what to get you for Valentine's Day and he probably doesn't care so he will just get whatever he feels you might like. He forced his mom to buy the presents though! :3
He probably wants to confess to you because you're the only person besides his mom who puts with his psychotic behavior and rude nature.
And probably because you don't make fun of him for being fat😭
The confession will be in his room because he doesn't want the guys ripping on him for having a soft spot for you.
He will confess in the mostly lazily and cheesy way in the first half before actually being honest with his confession.
"So it's Valentine's Day huh? This makes me feel like I am gay if I was doing this for the guys, but since it's just only you (Name), I don't mind it. As anyone would tell their s/o, will you be my valentine?".
🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🧸
Tumblr media
He's poor asf how do you think he can afford even a gift for you?
He feels so sad at the times you give him something and he can't gift you anything in return due to him being the poorest kid in south park.
So instead of buying something, he tries to make a homemade gift for you with whatever he can find (He cleans the material he's using if he finds something useful out of the trash).
Definitely sneaked around alleyways and stole some spare changes from homeless guys so he can use it to at least get you a candy or snack he can afford.
Same as Kyle, he will confess to you in the park while bringing the homemade gifts and snacks he got you.
He wanted this confession to be special like the holiday itself so he took a bath in the river (without soap) and fixed up in his hair a little, not a lot though.
He decided to wear his Princess Kenny outfit afterwards.
"Mmmmm...mmmphmmmmhmmphmmmmmmmmhmmp!" (Im sorry Name...I know this isn't much since I'm poor and I can't gift the same amount you do for me and my family, but it's the least I could to repay my gratitude! Will you be my valentine?).
Tumblr media
A new banner for my new south park Masterlist that I will be making soon.
135 notes · View notes
cerastes · 2 months
Note
With the exception of Arknights what are your thoughts on gacha games?
I don't feel like I need to exclude Arknights from the statement, I can criticize things even if I like them.
In general, I don't like that their widely accepted and even defended business model is "Capitalize on FOMO, exploit gambling addictions, create dependent users". I also think that the use of the "game as a service" model, and one that needs to keep pumping content forever and can't risk to alienate the player, severely limits what can be done with the medium in terms of creativity, because you can't kill off playable characters nilly willy (I actually think Epic Seven was cooking with this, Epic Seven will kill off playable characters and remove them from the plot if it feels like it, or at least used to back when I played, don't know nowadays), relationships and dynamics with characters tend to be limited because otherwise your audience can feel like you are cucking them, and I wish I was kidding but just look at the absolute dumpster fire of a drama going on as we speak (22nd of January, 2024) in Girls' Frontline 2 over in China over one of the characters having interactions with a male NPC, and you can't ever bring a true sense of finality to any given arc because everything ends up having to be foreshadowing, set-up, build-up and so on and on and on. In many cases, you also have a mold cast of Must Have tropes in your playable cast: The Maid, The Idol, The One That Worships The Ground You Walk On, The Underage And Underclothed One, The Underage (But We Treat This One As A Precious Child!) One, Foxgirl, The Cold And Highly Analytical One (But Actually, Loves You), Chuuni, etc, so it feels like in every game I kinda already know at least a third of the cast minimum already and I'm kind of primed to not really want to know them, even though there's subversions I end up liking sometimes (Fenny from Snowbreak is an example of an Idol-type I ended up loving despite not liking Idol-types).
On the other hand, even with these negatives in mind, having a game that periodically updates and adds content, and that you can discreetly play pretty much everywhere on the go due to smartphones being their main 'console', games that foster community and something to talk about with your friends that also play and that will always have something new every couple of weeks, as well as inspire fanart, fanworks, analysis, and commentary, and that tend to be more risque and interesting with their designs is honestly good to have. I personally enjoy the community aspect of gacha games, I consider it one of the two most important aspects for me, because I know I can come here, for example, and see people talking about the story, the characters, the music, the gameplay, and more, every day, and the other important thing to me is how discreet they are, since I can just play a few maps or stages in my phone real fast midst a social situation at work, and then hop back in with a renewed social battery or when a topic I like comes up.
I fully get when people showcase their disdain for gacha, yeah, but if we really want to be nitpicky, the majority of the game industry is kind of a cesspool of toxicity, which is not to say "stop bashing gacha" and instead say "bash the whole thing if you're going to be bashing it anyway" (and we should! Game devs and other personnel in the industry have been crying for better conditions for years now!). Either way, if someone decides to sit at the gambling den, it becomes their responsibility. I want there to be more safeguards for people with actual addictions and to protect them, but with this in mind, if anyone still decides to sit at the den, it's assumed they are going to take responsibility for their actions and financial decisions.
So all in all, yeah, predatory games that suffer in quality due to their own trappings, but also good sources of community, inspiration, and effective at being discreet games you can play anywhere and that get periodic updates (this isn't necessarily exclusive to gacha but it is an aspect of them that bears mentioning, which I point out since no doubt people will want to point out there's good non-gacha smartphone game options out there)
167 notes · View notes
dreadsuitsamus · 4 months
Text
Teacher's Night Out | Satoru Gojo x Reader |
author's note: i just imagined a silly lil night like this with him haha he honestly would be so much fun for sooooo many shenanigans
pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader
warnings: au verse, gojo and reader are college professors, small mention of nsfw topics but nothing remotely explicit, looooootsa kissing
Tumblr media
"Your movie is in theater five. Enjoy!" The teen attendant smiles, pointing your way to the left of the crossroad of the theaters.
Satoru grins and leads the way, practically dragging you down the hall. It takes all of your coordination skills just to stay on your feet as the overexuberance from Satoru threatens to remove your arm from its socket. "Why are you so eager?? This movie is supposed to be really bad!"
"You answered your own question." Satoru looks back at you for a wink and pretty smile, tugging you closer to his body as he urges you into the darkened theater that's already playing the previews. "You never have quite as much fun watching good movies as you do making fun of bad ones!"
Letting slip a quiet laugh, your earrings gently knock against your cheek as you shake your head at such an intention. It's not shocking, not one bit, to think Satoru would genuinely rather watch a terrible movie than any other, though roping you into it was something you foolishly didn't expect. It was meant to be an after work thing, nothing more than colleagues spending some time together outside the confines of the time clock, but with the way nobody else showed up and Satoru wasted not even a minute waiting for your other work friends, not to mention how touchy he’s being, the inkling that Satoru is up to something starts nagging a bit more.
The fact that you don't mind is awfully telling to both you and him.
Satoru quickly ushers you both to your seats, the theater so laughably empty that, even though you're a bit late, you can still get the absolute best seats in the house. He slips a few boxes of candy from his pockets, offering them up to you like cards. "Pick any! Except the Sour Patch Kids." Those long fingers swiftly pluck the box from your selection, and you laugh and take another.
"I appreciate you sneaking in candy, but I'm gonna go get a drink from-"
"I'll do it!! Keep my seat safe!" With that, Satoru is quite literally leaping across the rows of seats to the exit, and you can only stare in awe.
He's truly an idiot, and somehow the most decorated professor at the college you're both employed at. It's said by nearly every student he's had how they simultaneously regretted and did not regret taking his class. The curiosity alone makes you wish you could experience the teachings of Gojo Satoru for yourself, though knowing him on the other side of the desk is much more ideal.
It isn't long before your colleague returns, two large sodas in hand that have your brows practically rising to your hairline. “Jeez, Satoru, there's no way I could even dream of finishing this!”
“And these are the medium cups! I was this close to ordering large, just to see how much of my hand and forearm would fit.” He places his drink in the cupholder to his left as you set yours to the one on your right, the one between you left to house the little boxes of contraband he's snuck in. Satoru quickly swaps glasses, leaving the more tinted ones in their case as he opts for his regular frames, not that he plans to actually watch the movie— he's already seen this dumpster fire of a film, and it wasn't even fun to make fun of!
Your gaze flicks to the large screen, briefly wondering just how many previews for much better movies, and maybe much worse, you'll have to see before what you paid for starts to play. Satoru’s slender fingers brush your jaw, gently urging you to look back at him instead. His brilliantly bright blue eyes look at you in earnest, a little smile on his lips as he chews a gummy. “I'm glad you came to see this with me.”
“Of course, Satoru. Especially since the rest of the 'invitees' didn't show.” Your voice is dripping with suspicion, lips curving and a giggle following at the completely unabashed look on his face.
“Guess that cat's out of the bag. But come on! Can you imagine Nanami at the movie theater?! What a bore!”
Another laugh bubbles up despite your best efforts to stay somewhat hushed up. There are a few strays here, after all, and you'd hate to end up in someone's viral Twitter posting for being rude in a movie theater. “Satoru! Kento is a fine man; he can be more relaxed than you give him credit for.”
“Oh?” Satoru’s brow raises and he leans in closer, as if to whisper conspiracy in the dead of the night, his nose nearly tapping the tip of yours. “Have you and Nanami been spending extracurricular time together?”
“You do know we run the creative writing club together, don't you?”
“Literature nerds.” Satoru snorts, his breath fanning across your skin. “What kind of smutty, filthy things does he write, hmmm?”
“Gojo!” You scold, plucking his chest and just barely being able to keep your heart from pumping out of your chest with his awfully close proximity. Boundaries have always been a tad wavy with Satoru, personal space becoming less personal whenever he's around, but he's never quite… unabashedly close to your lips with his own.
“What?? Fine, fine. Keep his secrets! I’d rather hear about what you write anyway. That's the fun stuff.” Satoru leans in closer, his soft, pink lips a mere hair’s breadth from yours— half of an exhale and they'll be touching.
“Come to this Friday's meet then.” Your whisper isn't out of consideration for any other attendees of the movie, as the lights are drawn down and it's begun to play now. “We're doing poetry this week.”
“I can think of far better ways to spend a Friday night.” Satoru lowers his own voice to a murmur. “How about we have our own little meet, you and me?”
“Isn't that what this is?”
“What, you can't make a little more time for me?” Satoru pouts pathetically and you begin to suspect that he can cry on command after seeing how sad his eyes seem.
“I’m a busy woman, Satoru. You know the life of a college professor.” Your tongue darts out over your lips, tasting the vanilla cupcake flavored gloss you slid on tonight.
“So let's make the most of this time then.” Satoru's knuckle taps your chin up and then he's pressing his lips to yours. It's a gentle kiss, an ultimate test of your boundaries, but one he's confident will go his way. He notices the little things about you, the way you linger for him at the end of the day, just to walk to the parking lot together. You have his Starbucks order memorized, make him delicious sweets all the time and do plenty of other soft gestures that make his heart beat.
Warmth floods your face at Satoru's kiss— never in your life did you think things would get to this point between the two of you. All that time pining for him was surely wasted, wasn't it? You certainly could have made a move months ago, and he'd have received you eagerly. It's you that deepens the kiss, encouraging Satoru’s tongue to lick at your sweet lips and, little by little, remove the tasty gloss from your lips.
Satoru’s teeth gently dig into your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth for a moment, letting go soon after. The armrest between you is quickly flipped up, your poor candy boxes sent flying as Satoru moves in further, bracing a large hand on your back as he lays you back in the seat. A rumble echoes in his chest as your fingers find their place in his hair and gently thread through the white locks, spurring the professor’s kissing into something more frenzied, more desperate and with a tinge of neediness dabbled in too.
Your concept of time is muddied by the time Satoru pulls his lips back, your lip gloss smeared between both of your faces in a messy display of actions that you'd expect teenagers to do rather than adults past thirty. Satoru smiles down at you, eyes beautiful crescents to match the gorgeousness of his grin. “So you'll meet up with me again soon, right?”
Satoru can hardly register your snort before your arms are around his neck and pulling him down for more.
Tumblr media
“Wait, wait, wait!” Satoru turns his head to the screen, his brows knitted as he witnesses a scene that certainly wasn't there when he actually watched this movie before. “We're in the wrong theater!”
It's a tad hard to explain to the manager on duty that there's been a mistake when the movie you were actually in was ten minutes from its end, but somehow Satoru manages to talk his way into a showing of the film you'd actually paid for, giving you just enough time to slather on some more lip gloss before Makeout Paradise 2: Electric Boogaloo.
168 notes · View notes
ecoterrorist-katara · 10 days
Text
Katara would’ve been such a good diplomat (it’s canon)
everyone rightfully hates on the ATLA comics because the politics are baffling and the characterization is even more so…but if there’s one thing we can take away from the dumpster fire that is The Promise, it’s that Katara was BORN to be a diplomat and an international force for peace, okay? Especially since her besties, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, aren’t actually very good at this.
If you haven’t read The Promise, the Wikipedia summary is pretty good. The TL;DR is that Zuko and Kuei agree that the Fire Nation colonies need to be returned to the Earth Kingdom. The colony of Yu Dao is not happy about this because the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been mixing together (under inequitable conditions) for more than a hundred years and “just kick out the Fire Nation” is not as straightforward as it seems, since there are blended families now. Zuko refuses to kick out the Fire Nation people from Yu Dao, Kuei wants to play hardball, and they almost launch another war. Oh and there’s a weird plot about Aang debating whether to put Zuko down like a rabid dog
For all that the Wiki page does a good job of summarizing the events, it forgets some key facts: 
It’s Katara who first starts thinking about new solutions after witnessing the situation on the ground, and then comes up with the idea that Zuko and Kuei should meet and talk about the colonies:
Tumblr media
It’s Katara who tells Kuei that Zuko has legitimate concerns (without saying that Zuko is right), when Aang tries to hedge and sugarcoat the truth: 
Tumblr media
And it’s Katara who says to Kuei, wait, what the hell do you mean that you have no idea what your people want, that Yu Dao is just a dot on the map for you? We’re getting you out of this stupid blimp and you’re gonna talk to people before you make a decision that affects their lives, you coward
Tumblr media
To recap, Katara demonstrates some pretty freaking key political skills, like: 
finding out what people want before making a decision for them 
seeing people as people first and foremost, not as fire nation or earth kingdom 
encouraging her loved ones, the Avatar and the Fire Lord, to resolve a conflict by beginning negotiations instead of brawling like a couple of drunks at a bar / kids on the playground (both analogies fit btw, 13-17 is a weird combination of ages)  
realistically reporting tricky disagreements without sweeping them under the rug
kidnapping a king to the middle of a battlefield to give him a reality check about listening to the people he’s trying to rule
Anyway, Katara is hyper competent at both war AND peace! We see this in the show, with her compassion for the prisoners of the Earth Kingdom (by inciting a prison riot) and the suffering people of the Fire Nation (by committing ecoterrorism), only now that compassion is backed up not only by her fighting prowess and speeches about hope, but actual ability to manipulate the levers of power. 
And have I mentioned that she has the ears of both the Avatar and the Fire Lord and her dad is Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? Even if Katara didn’t get a diplomat position based on her skills, or her status as a war hero, she could nepo baby her way in. The fact that she does not pick up a career in international diplomacy is a crime & a colossal oversight from the creators. At minimum you know Katara would’ve established Healers Without Borders or something. She deserves to be yelling at people at ATLA UN and then drafting world-changing resolutions. 
And as a bonus, Katara demonstrates her gift for diplomacy by not smacking Zuko up the head for attempting to legitimize colonization through the argument of economic progress…
Tumblr media
…and by not smacking Aang up the head for seriously considering anti-miscegenation as a viable political solution: 
Tumblr media
This patience is a new development because show!Katara did not have this in her, but maybe this is what growing up is all about and not just yet another strike on the “comics are wildly OOC” tally
TL;DR: ATLA boys lost their brain cells post-canon. All hail Katara, Sugar Queen of international diplomacy. 
104 notes · View notes