#so that even with only your shape you were still giving an appearance of femininity and fashion and *drag* on stage
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TW: discussions of body image/eating disorders/fat shaming/etc. Rant under the cut. This is about drag and body image as it pertains to Drag Race in the United States.
Thinking about Drag Race in the US. 16 seasons of Drag Race, 7 seasons of All Stars (excluding winners’ seasons), however many Vs The World seasons, and there has *never* been a winner that isn’t skinny.
Oh, some competitors get close. Supposedly, drag is open to all body shapes and sizes (with the right padding and shape wear and makeup). Supposedly, no matter your body, you can shapeshift into something beautiful. Over and over and over again, Drag Race has competitors who pride themselves on being “big girls”; people who grew up fatshamed, but turned it into their brand. Many of these queens are incredibly skilled performers, artists, and entertainers. And yet.
And yet.
Somehow, when the judging gets close, the fat queen usually gets cut.
I think about RuPaul’s background before Drag Race, as a runway model. How the Tic Tac Chit Chat is a running joke; “oh, RuPaul can’t finish a tic tac”. How many queens on the show are *frighteningly* skinny, and this is seen as a compliment. Producers will stitch together storylines of queens recovering from eating disorders, and in the same breath, cut to RuPaul and Michelle Visage complimenting a queen on how small her waist is in that corset.
I think about how many of these queens have had plastic surgery. At least one a season, usually more. How queens will come back for All Stars and I can no longer recognize them, not because they’re painting differently, but because their faces have entirely changed shape in the past few years. Hollower cheeks. Larger lips. Shaved jaws. Cutting and slicing for some proportion that makes them look slimmer and more feminine. How Morphine won the finale Lalaparuza Smackdown, with a $50,000 prize, and excitedly told the camera how she was going to “invest in her body”. “You get a BBL, you get a BBL, everybody gets a BBL!”.
Some of that is gender-affirming surgery, or other medically necessary surgeries. Detox got reconstructive surgery after a car crash, for example. A lot of it… isn’t. A lot of it is an “investment”. Part of the job.
I think about how a queen walked a runway with a look critiquing plastic surgery, all nude illusion and dashed lines, carving away at her waist and hips and butt. How Michelle Visage called it “overdone”. So many queens have talked about that already. It’s not new. It’s old news. Step up your game and talk about something more compelling.
16 years and not a single fat queen has won.
My friend and I aren’t watching seasons in order, but rather by how much they like a particular season. We’re working through season 7 right now. Violet Chotchki wins that one (sorry for spoilers). Violet also spends the entire season focused on emphasizing her body. How young she is. How skinny she is. Look, her “Death Becomes Her” runway is just her in the tightest corset possible, with an IV drip stuck into her arm. Cinched to death. The judges coo at how her waist is *so* small-
How many queens have come onto this show and bragged about losing 50 pounds? How many queens come back for All Stars, gleeful that they’re not a “big queen” anymore? Just “thick and juicy”, just “don’t need any padding”. You can have fat… as long as it’s in the butt or breasts and looks sexy enough. Otherwise it’s a hurdle to cry about in the cutaways. You can be as fat as you want on this show, sure, but if you lose weight you’ll get a camera in your face talking about how much “healthier” you are.
I think about how fashion runways are infinitely, horrifically worse. How most of these winners would, should they walk the runway, be put into a boring pencil skirt in the “plus size” category. They should be so lucky.
I think about Latrice. I think about Ginger Minj. I think about Eureka. I think about Mistress. I think about Megami in the Lalaparuza Smackdown. All these queens that get *so fucking close*. But some little thing-
Some intangible, unnameable thing-
Some unspoken qualia just barely makes their slim competitor stand out enough to take the crown.
I love drag. I really enjoy watching Drag Race. It’s a pocket of explicitly queer media I don’t get to see much of anywhere else. Disabled queens have won multiple seasons. People of color have won multiple seasons. Trans people have won multiple seasons. Just this year, the first East Asian queen won Drag Race in the US. Drag Race is incredibly inclusive to people from all backgrounds who are talented artists showing off their skills-
RuPaul makes another joke about skipping meals and getting surgery to maintain a queen’s “girl body”.
I turn the TV off.
#blue chatter#this makes me want to chuck rocks a little bit!!!!!!#this is not the only issue with the show by far; part of this is that it’s reality TV and they play up cultural biases and such for drama#I know that#there’s also plenty of examples of pervasive racism and classism on this show#even forms of queerphobia#and I understand that this is a show about a very particular subculture of queerness and that expecting it to be unproblematic isn’t fair#the reason I’m talking about drag race specifically is bc my roommate loves it and I’ve been watching a lot of it bc of that#so I’m more familiar with it and better able to call out what I see#please do not start discourse in my notes. I am aware that having a show like Drag Race continue to air is incredible#but please for once can there be a queen who looks like me who doesn’t have to talk about her weight constantly#I don’t think fat queens get judged fairly. I think there is still an association between fat and ugly that shows up in judging decisions#And I think there is a very real danger of encouraging behaviors that are harmful to the queens on the show and the viewers#yes I know part of this art form is being able to alter your shape. I don’t take umbrage with corsets and padding and such.#I do take issue with larger queens getting told they need to do more than their skinny competitors to attain a ‘flattering shape’#violet chotchki walked that nude illusion runway with literally no clothing and won that challenge#despite putting no effort into her look. that gets under my skin. that speaks to me that skinniness gets rewarded over talent#yes it absolutely takes confidence to walk the runway naked that’s not the point. the challenge was focused on altering your body shape#so that even with only your shape you were still giving an appearance of femininity and fashion and *drag* on stage#the most Violet did drag-wise on that runway was tucking. but because she was skinny and attractive it was feminine enough to win.#that makes me upset.#anyway. bat; meet wasp nest.
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Oh yes of course!!!
I meant specifically like her very early concept art (blue haired) and like, one of the first ones where she has short hair (but still with those 2 loose locks at the front)? I hope you know which one I'm talking about lolol
BUT if you wanna speak your thoughts on like. All of them. I want to hear 👂❓️
( @ellivcca asked what I thought about Maya's concept art and I replied in priv if they could be more specific)
Let's talk about Maya's designs! ✨
I will skip the blue-haired art for now, since I have more to say about her other early designs. They're in a few Japanese AA Guidebooks, but "逆転裁判2 真相解明マニュアル", or "Gyakuten Saiban 2: Fact-Finding Manual" has the most in one place. There are blurbs that discuss the designs, and I'll do my best to summarize them. My Japanese isn't amazing and I had to mostly rely on machine translation + cross referencing dictionaries, so it's possible I may be inaccurate. Also, I'm a novice at Japanese culture, so if I'm misrepresenting anything please bring this to my attention and I'll correct things accordingly!
The book acknowledges that Maya was intended to be of high-school age, hence the the sailor suit artwork. They seem to suggest that the loose socks was a hint at Maya's spunky personality.
When they began to explore her as a spirit medium (1), they wanted her to come from a wealthy, noble family. It looks like a lot of these explorations made it to Franziska's design, with some of the shapes of the shoulders and the jabot-looking neck wear, which is interesting!
As they kept exploring in the second round of sketches (2), they stressed traditional/folk dress as being an important part of her design. They noted they had her carrying something on her back at the time, which I think hints more to her "folksy" feel.
The beaded necklace she's wearing in (2) are drawn from Mala bead necklaces, which are prayer beads rooted in Hinduism and Buddhism and are said to help focus the mind during meditation. They seem present in a lot of spiritual figures in Japan.
Later (3), they explicitly comment drawing inspiration from the Matagi, a group of hunting clans in the northern Japanese mountains (be careful looking them up, they do bear hunting and there's a lot of explicit imagery, even on the wikipedia).
They comment on that this version of her early character might be very athletic. She also seems to be more stoic in these explorations.
Then, for (4) and (5), they evolved the design to make it look appear more feminine, giving her long hair, but making a note that her look isn't typical of modern people.
The large orbs in (3), (4) and (5) I think are supposed be drawn from "Yuigesa"(結袈裟), or harnesses decorated with pom-poms worn by Shugendō practitioners, hermits who live in the mountains and practice asceticism.
Then in (6), they added the magatama and committed to her having black hair. They note shortening the hem of her costume from design (5).
The magatama addition is pretty significant! Magatama necklaces are used by noro priestesses of the Ryukyu Kingdom from the islands in the very south of Japan.
Their religion broadly speaking, involves ancestor worship and the relationships between the living and dead, gods and spirits. It seems to me like the culture in Kurain Village draws a lot from the Ryukyuan people--and you can even see this with the beads along with the magatamas.
But there seems to be a lot of generic imagery of Spirit Mediums that I've been able to find in Japanese media which have shared elements of design in Maya's final design. The most interesting of these to me is "ほんとにあった!霊媒先生", or "It Really Happened! Spirit Medium Teacher". The design similarities are striking (and make me wonder if Maya was an inspiration?)
So, to summarize it all up, it seems like the early designers (and there were only two! Kumiko Suekane and Tatsuro Iwamoto) wanted a character who was different, folksy, feminine and spunky that displayed unique spiritual power to aid in the narrative/game mechanics of the games, and they explored the different facets of their own culture--from the northern Matagi clans to the southern Ryukyuan people--Japanese iconography, and tastes into Maya's final design.
And I think that's Real Neat. :)
Thoughts about other designs (Blue-Haired/SoJ Maya) under the cut cuz oh my gosh this post is already huge.
Blue haired Maya!
What's interesting to me is that a lot of the design language on this early Maya art seems to have been carried over to Ema's design (glasses, boots, coat/skirt). She also has similar vibes to Lynne from Ghost Trick.
I definitely enjoy Maya's final design a lot better, but I like the triadic color harmony and spunk here!
And then her design update in Spirit of Justice! These concepts are from "逆転裁判6 公式ビジュアルブック", or "Gyakuten Saiban 6: Official Visual Book". :)
Takuro Fuse (the character designer) comments that he never drew Maya before when he took a stab at updating her, so he wanted to get that down first before tackling the designs. He wondered how she would change over the course of 11 years, and first experimented with a design, thinking about how Mia would look like as a spirit medium. He thought it would be interesting if Phoenix wouldn't be able to tell if Maya channeled Mia. (Me too tbh.)
I feel like this design has a bit too much going on, but I do like the longer cream colored sleeves!
Takuro talks more about how he was exploring all sorts of designs before landing on something more simple. He wanted her to have what he called a "traveling costume" and was very fond of the hat. These designs seem to pull from similar places I've discussed with Maya's early designs, as well as Japanese pilgrims.
As fun as the additions and changes to her design are, I think it was very smart to just add subtle changes: the longer robes, jacket, and the additional beads to her necklace. The shawl is a nice touch, too. This reflects how post-7yg Phoenix and Edgeworth also have subtle changes to their designs as well, which I love and I think were very smart moves from a design-perspective as well as personal taste. Their designs are very iconic and I think it was a service to maintain that iconography.
This was a very fun thing to explore! Thank you kindly @ellivcca for the ask!
#maya fey#ace attorney#maya may#fixy writes#fixy writes about lore#real life lore?#sorry this is like two days late I was lost in the research sauce 😭#ace attorney art
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Hart shaped things.
I have this odd mild loathing of heart shaped things. It’s the twee side of it and how cute they can be. That single heart shaped pretty necklace thats supposed to signal love to everyone around feels like there’s horrible under tones to me.
I got to see little girls like me wear those lovely little pendants as the only decoration they were allowed because too much was too much and the church didn’t like over doing it. Little girls with their hearts overflowing with innocent love.
Children at eight years old being made to make a covenant when they still hadn’t grown out of that cute stage. Boys and girls both not knowing what they got into.
They grew to twelve years old and boys got the kind of power in the church where they had more power in their little finger than their grandmothers will ever have or have had.
Lessons with undertones of punishment though teens that men are men and women are women. Each needing to act accordingly and dress accordingly. Those heart shaped pendants for the ones that noticed became like weights around our necks dragging us down. We had to appear feminine enough and cute and unthreatening enough. God didn’t want women acting like men. I didn’t want ether. Into my teen years I was being told I had to wear makeup and stylish clothing. Women needed to look just nice enough to be interesting to men but not to interesting. You have to be feminine enough to attract a good man but also men are the huge monsters in ally ways and car parks. Men were the enemy you had to let into your life and run it because god said so. It wasn’t who I was. Hearts began to signify that forever innocence women were supposed to have. They were worn like shields against gods wrath just in case a woman were to show a bit of strength or stand up for themselves. But they were never worn much only just enough. Women had to be modest and cover enough of themselves that their bodies felt foreign to them and didn’t belong to them but show enough to show they were still ladies.
And then I got to see adult women after years of having men run their lives tired and sick. All being told they aren’t bringing enough children into the world wile they had so many they didn’t keep track of the ones they had. They worried they couldn’t do enough with ‘populating the earth’ which terrified me. All that modesty enforced with garments so now the church dictates and mandates under clothes.
Then much older women beaten down and unable to fight back every time a man spoke or communicate what they want because men run things to them. Some were obviously abused and some were willing submissive.
But wile all this was going on I was told I was a special spirit and I’d never find a man anyway unless he was the bottom of the pile. The meat market of young single adults never interested me. I wasn’t the best looking, I was disabled to the point I couldn’t just try to be better and somehow look normal to the right guy. Men and women were forced into roles that made them interchangeable in so many ways. Faith in god was supposedly all you needed for a good marriage. What was left as far as characteristics went for anyone to pick what they wanted from? Appearance. Ugly girls got treated with pity. Ugly girls like me. I was told I could fix it if I basically wasn’t me.
It all started with a heart symbol that even people out of the church wear but to me I can’t separate it off from outdated hairstyles, being made to keep my ‘natural’ hair colour, no other subjects being ok but bitching about the unfaithful, skirts you can’t run in but you have to wear them anyway, not being allowed to wear certain colours because they are too bright or give the wrong message, white T-shirts under anything that showed of shoulders or collarbones, lace up to the neck to the point of being choking, not being able to stand up for myself when I need to, being told I couldn’t stand out in any way in my own community but to outsiders I had to look a certain type of strange, being told I had to keep pure but if a priesthood holder said something I better listen even if it wasn’t a good idea, not being allowed to be me but having to be some image of a woman that everyone else wanted me to be, seeing men as both saviours i needed to get into heaven and the demons we were meant to fear and if we showed off our knees men would go from one straight to the other.
The overly cuteness of the little heart symbol jewellery was a part of femininity I never resonated with and for a long time because of that I felt like I was nothing. Now I know there’s just nothing for me in a church that only allowed me one way to express myself and kept telling me what myself was when it wasn’t that at all.
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Shared Secret
Echo x reader (soulmate AU)
Sum: It takes suffering for Echo to find his soulmate.
AN: You ever start a fic and just keeps coming out wrong. But you've already put the time into it but it just doesn't work no matter how hard you try so you just wrap it up and post it to get it out of your head?
Yeah, That's what this is.
I might have accidentally used feminine pronouns for the gender-neutral reader. If you mind them please let me know.
Echo should have been considered defective long before joining clone force 99. Unlike the other four his mutation wasn’t as noticeable; just a little shape, something akin to a squiggle behind the shell of his ear.
Clones didn’t have soulmates: They’ll never get a mark, never have a partner, family and never be anything other than a trooper for the Republic. Echo has been told this multiple times over the years. Not that it stopped him or any of his brothers from talking about it in whispers or drawing little designs where no one could see them.
Fives had found the mark when they were cadets.
“You do this?” he asked while giving Echo a haircut.
It took two mirrors and quiet a bit of frustration before Echo saw it for himself. Back then he was excited about it. Keeping Fives awake for most the night talking his ear off about the thing. What his soulmate looked like, where they could be, maybe that he could meet them someday?
“They could be a jedi or something.” Echo had said under the covers with his best brother.
“Don’t bring that up to General Ti. Don’t bring it up to anyone actually.” Even under the darkness of a blanket and dimmed lights Echo saw how Fives’s face dropped. “Long-necks will know that you’re…” Fives hadn’t wanted to outright say defective. “and they’ll decommission you. You gotta keep this a secret.”
That was the last time Echo had talked about it. Sometimes he’d think about it, about the one out there who was marked as his. It was easy to get lost in those daydreams about the impossible.
He’d see them just before going to sleep, their appearance changing every time to match every possibility. On transport to this or that he wonders what they could do: not just the expected fun stuff but general life to life. A lot of vids show the husband getting breakfast ready before work; he could do that. He could kiss them before they leave and hug them when returning. He daydreams about the negative things too. Like arguments, because of course there’d be some kind of argument. Even then he could do that, because at least an argument meant that they were there.
Echo had plenty of time to enjoy these fantasies while in stasis. He wasn’t aware of really anything on Skako Minor. Dreams of his one and only mix with memories of explosions and strategy meetings. Eventually it’s impossible to separate his fantasy from memories. By the time Rex is in front of him it takes a moment to that it was really happening.
“Take care of him,” Echo heard Rex say inside the medical wing of Anxes where Echo was immediately forced onto a gurney. “Please. He’s been through enough.”
This was your first introduction to Echo. Where you looked down at malnourished man with concern but smiled when looking to the captain.
“And I won’t put him through anything else.” You told Captain Rex.
Like all clones Echo was polite to you and the staff. A lot of “yes, ma’ams,” “no sirs,” and “Thank you” s when a normal person wouldn’t have done the same.
“Nice to feel another human’s touch after so long.” He said when shaking your hand.
Hours after being pulled from stasis and Echo was still freezing to the touch. You tried to ignore this during the handshake, but you had to pull away quicker than necessary. Immediately apologizing when Echo’s faced dropped at your reaction.
“I’m sorry, that was rude.” You say, hand reaching up to toy with the mark behind your ear.
This mark touching was a common habit throughout the galaxy. Like some part of our brains think that touching our mark was close enough to being comforted by a loved one. A dead giveaway about your emotions but it seemed to work on some level.
Echo felt a tingle, or a small shudder, when you did this. He could just blame it on where your hand had gone or just being overly sensitive with everything that has happened. But he still looked up at you when it happened, only now remembering his defect.
“Echo?” You ask, seeing his face disassociate and go blank.
He blinks and shakes his head a bit. Coming back to himself to answer. “It’s alright. Really, I’m just…”
“Tired?”
“Sleep is the last thing I need. But I am kinda hungry…”
It hurt when a clone said they were hungry. Their rations gave the bare minimum in nutrients, just enough to get the job done. It tasted awful and was likely the reason most troopers could be considered almost underweight. What’s worse was how most would never taste anything other than those rations.
Not that any of your patients would ever be one of them.
“I’ll get you something good, okay?” You said, leaving his room before he ask what it would be.
Wherever you were deployed the necessary supplies would come with you. Like other doctors this consisted of medical supplies and tools. You were special in that it included noodles, space-tomato sauce, and rounded meat.
A simple recipe that had countless variations throughout the galaxy. A lot of children had this as their favorite meal. After most of the clones get a taste they tend to say the same. Echo was no different: Sitting up straight in his bed when you entered with a steaming bowl in your hands.
“If you don’t like it I can find you something else, no problem.” You said, although he already had a mouth full.
“Even those rations bars would taste good right now but this…” He said spinning the fork around. “Thank you.”
“Your welcome, Echo. If you don’t mind I would like to do a quick examine.” You said, taking a step sideways to look at his back.
There’s a slight pause in his eating when you say this. Although he nods there is a distinct tensing in his muscles when you first touch him. The spaghetti in his hand acting as a distraction from your hands.
Echo wasn’t just going to need a doctor; he was going to need a mechanic to take a look too. The metal was heavy and would ting when tapped. He could decorate himself with magnets if he ever wanted a new look. Those would be jokes to save for later.
Following the metal up to his head you were gentle on his skin. He’s still freezing like no man should ever be. Although you were basing this on touch it’s surprising that his heart was still beating. Once upon a time Echo was darker like his brothers, experimentation and manipulation had made him paler. The only one you’d seen lighter was Crosshair. Maybe that would be something he could bond over later; at time you start with the magnet jokes.
His hair is gone and would likely never return. Metal was wrapped around the back of his head in a single line. It’s impossible to say how deep it goes into his head without a scan. Echo is going to need more than a doctor to help. You made a mental note to get someone from robotics in here later.
He flinches when you get close to his ears.
“Sorry,” You say but don’t let go. “Are you in pain?”
“No just…You can keep going.” He says, and you do.
It doesn’t take long to see why he had flinched away. His mark was better hidden than others, but it wouldn’t be hard to find on accident. Especially when it was in the same exact spot as your own. The same almost silly squiggle shape in a faded blue color. Like it was decided last minute to give the two of you a mark. Leaving no time to design anything cool and just slapping whatever on your skin. In this moment that squiggle was the prettiest thing in the galaxy.
It was hard to try and explain everything to Echo. All he saw when you stood and looked down at him was a smile. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, thankfully staying silent while you leaned forward to show the back of your own ear.
While Echo was smiling his had a certain layer of concern behind it. The smile eventually leaving completely as his mind starts to fall in on itself. Already becoming overwhelmed at the thought of how his life would affect you. How you were now part of his secret and not just a face that changed with every fantasy.
He wanted to laugh at the universe for making him suffer just to meet you. He wanted to cry for the future he could have had with you if things were different. He wanted to scream in fear that you were now part of a secret that could put you both in danger. Most of all; he wanted to hold you, to be held by you. He wanted so much…
At least you could do was give him a touch. Your hand, warmer than any star, against his cheek. Saving him from his own thoughts. He blinks slowly and looks up at you.
“Clones don’t have soulmates.” Echo says. His eyes dreamy but voice sad.
The cot groans a bit when you sit down. Now eye level with Echo who you still caress with one hand.
“I really don’t care what clones do or do not have. Because now I have you.” You say.
“I have you.” He repeats, using his only human hand to cover yours.
#Reader insert#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars imagine#star wars the clone wars#Echo x reader#Soulmate Au#Not beta read
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hiyaaaa i saw you were doing pairings, and i thought id go for it! i’d like you to ship me with one of our gorgeous cod/mw2 boys 🫶
my name is Aia, and I’m a student!
personality: to start off, i’m very introverted (ITSP). i need a lot of alone time to recharge, but i can manage to be around people even when im drained if i like them enough 😭
i have a tough outer shell - not tough in the way that i’m rude or stuck up, but i never really open up about my feelings, or about anything in general. i don’t like talking about myself much with people i don’t really know, and i’m very independent - id rather be on my own. i only open up with, and wanna be around the very few people that i trust - they get to see my softer, more relaxed and true authentic self. and they also get to see my much more energetic and funny side! it all depends on my mood, but it’s usually a mix of both.
i’m very understanding, and i’m VERY empathetic. i can empathise with pretty much everybody and i’m great at giving advice, or even just listening to people’s struggles if that’s what they want. but i can also be extremely blunt and honest at times since i really hate lying & sugarcoating things.
i’m really confident, yet humble. i’m an extremely secure person, and nobody’s words really get to me 😭 i absolutely do not tolerate disrespect and i will cut somebody off or put them in their place if they’re disrespectful enough. I am really humble, however.
this sounds so conceited, but i’d say that i’m really funny 😭 all of my friends describe me as funny, i’m known as the “funny friend”, and i always make people laugh unintentionally! i also laugh at others jokes a lot - i have a hard time taking many situations seriously because of my fkn clownery 💀
the thing that i don’t like about myself however, is that i can be very airheaded and a little like… gone? like very just… unaware and in my own bubble. sometimes i’m extremely clumsy and foolish n shit 😭 i can also be very stubborn at times.
temperament: i’m pretty sure i’m choleric and melancholic! i don’t know a lot about temperaments and such, but i think i’m those two. mostly choleric tho… i think i’m 60/40.
what type of person i am: i’m pretty sure i’m level headed and adventurous. i’m chill, understanding, confident, kind, passionate, and hardworking! i’m mostly logical, but i can be emotional when needed. i’m also extremely loyal and trustworthy.
hobbies: i have quite a few!
- gym/bodybuilding :p
i absolutely ADORE working out, and it’s my main hobby that i tell people about
- cooking & eating :)
- drawing & painting <3
- gaming!
- boxing c:
appearance:
for my body, i’m 5”2/158cm, and i’m normal weight. i go to the gym a lot, so my build is pretty muscular, but i still look feminine overall. my body is like, balanced, i’d say :) i just have an overall fit look!
my face is kind of hard to describe so bare with me! i’m kurdish, so i have very strong individual features, but theyre all in harmony.
My eyes are big, brown, and round. My nose is hooked. my lips are kind of thin, but not overly thin, and theyre kind of bow-shaped :). my eyebrows are thick and dark. my face shape is oval/upside down triangle! my skintone is like… medium? it’s for fair but not super olive either. my hair is thick and dark brown. it is kind of medium length, a bit below my collarbones, and i like to keep it straight, but it is naturally wavy. i have curtain bangs too :)
that was all!! tysm <333
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (a/n thank you for submitting! I love the amount of detail you put in this and I hope I did you justice!)
How you met: Civilian As you sat in the relief of the cool fan breeze on your face, you re-wrapped your hand with your light blue handwrap. In recent months, you started to train in the ring more often and you loved the gym you found. The air smelled of sweat and the sound of grunts and punches filled the room but it satisfied your competitive spirit. "Aia, you're up!" your trainer called and you walked to the ring to find your opponent. While he was taller and more muscular than you, his kind smile made you feel a little bad for the ass beating you were about to deliver. You had see him around before but this was the first time you would have a session with him. "Kyle," he said as he approached you and gently shook your hand. "Aia," you exchanged and soon took your stance. It was clear when you started that Kyle was a pressure fighter, bombarding you with a barrage of attacks then retreating out of your reach. While his goal was to exhaust you, you were an out-boxer and focused on anticipating his attacks and returning them with a long range punch. Most out-boxers were taller than you but you were able to methodically plan your attacks and kept Kyle on the offensive. You danced around the ring, making intense eye contact with his dark brown eyes until you finally managed to land a winning punch to his sternum. As he fell, you stood above him in victory. "Good match," you complimented as you held out a hand and helped him up. "That was one hell of a punch," he said as he massaged his chest, "I definitely have to train with you more." "Looking forward to it," you replied and exchanged numbers with your new gym buddy.
A peek into your relationship: When you weren't going to the gym with your boyfriend, you enjoyed a nice night in with a cookbook and drinks. Tonight, you and Kyle were attempting to make creamy garlic chicken pasta, a recipe he had suggested. You danced around the kitchen as Kyle took care of the chicken and you handled the pasta. "Babe, this is a great chicken," you said as you peeked a head around his torso, "some might call it im-peck-able!" Your corny joke was met by a hearty laugh from him as you kissed his cheek. "That was bad," he replied and you rolled your eyes as you finished draining the pasta. "I'm just eggs-centric," you said with a smile and this one was met with groans. As Kyle tossed the pasta, he kept poking fun at your humor. "You know, love, if you just told me one of your jokes I probably would have doubled over laughing," he said and sat down on the couch next to you with two bowls. "True but I would never have found the best gym partner," you countered and he nodded in agreement. As you ate your dinner and exchanged more dad jokes, Kyle was happy that he had found the perfect person to be his best friend and to kick his ass at the gym.
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so, gender dysphoria + body dysmorphia + general body insecurity regarding... boobs (because i don't technically know what to classify it under)
as detailed in my story about growing up with weight and eating issues, i became slightly overweight just before the start of puberty. i don't know if that was a contributing factor, but, whatever the case, when i developed breasts, they got covered in stretch marks. i quickly grew into a C cup at age 13, and the stretch marks were so severe, they looked like fresh scars—red and inflamed.
inevitably, because of this, my chest became one of my deepest insecurities, in tandem with my weight insecurity. one time, my little cousin, maybe around age 5 at the time, saw the tops of my scars when i was wearing a tank top, and she asked me (innocently, because she was just a child and didn't know it would upset me) if i got into an accident. let's just say i never forgot that encounter on a scale of 'interactions that forever changed my perception of myself.'
i would say this was one of the reasons i started only wearing tops and swimsuits that covered my entire chest, but, tbh, i ascribe that insecurity to the struggle with eating disorders and general BDD. i had this notion that if a top was too low cut and exposed too much skin, it would make me look too wide. i also thought my pale chest skin didn't give enough contrast to my face and brought out my dark facial acne spots in comparison to my white chest. i still carry these ideas and base my wardrobe off of them to this day.
having stretch marks was just the icing on top of every BDD and ED based decision.
also, i never had a, ahem, "perky" chest shape. and being surrounded by the perfect-skin-having, skinny, braless 2000s media forced a realization on me that my chest just did not look like the pretty people's, fairly early on in life. not only that, but my whole entire body didn't look like the pretty people's.
then, the gender dysphoria aspect mixes in to the insecurities already present and blurs the lines of ascribing which behavior to which diagnosis.
when i was 15-16, i had an era where i wanted to identify as straight and cis as possible (i didn't know what trans and cis, etc. was back then, but you know what i mean: hyper-feminine.) during this time, i was already struggling with ED, and had already been open about my sexuality and interest in masculine gender expression. i don't know what aspect pushed me to reject my former identity and sexuality explorations—the ED? the BDD? gender dysphoria?—i have no idea.
regardless, even when i was hyper-feminine, i still wanted to have small boobs. every time i would go to VS, i would think the A bras were so much better looking than the larger cups. was it because they were smaller and brought up the association of small = skinny? was it because of my previous insecurities with stretch marks and chest shape? did i think being thinner would change the shape of my breasts? was it gender expression issues bleeding through the hyper-femme appearance? do cis gender people even think about their own boobs this much!?
i don't know!
so fast forward to now, the color of the stretch marks have long since faded (they faded around age 15), similar to an old scar. and, i don't know if it's age+gravity, the weight loss, the muscle loss, or the years of binding, but the fat of my breasts sits a lot lower now, which, weirdly, made them..."perky". like there's way more fat that rests beneath the nipple area, which pushes them upward. you can even see the progression of my breasts sitting lower on my body in where my stretch marks are now. my stretch marks used to only be on the swell of the breast itself, now the tops of them rest on the flat of my chest bone.
now that's all wildly funny, because when i was younger and ashamed of my non-perky chest, i would google how to get a more perky shape. and i remember reading "always wear a bra! if gravity pulls your breasts down over time it will get worse!" and like, mate...lol. the opposite is true, at least for me. but i took that shit to heart as a teenager. i slept in my underwire pushup bras. they did not leave my body except to shower.
but! i am still very unhappy and ashamed. because while this shift in my body did give me a more "perky" shape, the old stretch marks also...wrinkle...when i bend over. like a damn plastic bag. and that definitely was not an issue before.
i've fantasized about many different types of chest reconstruction surgeries throughout my life: breast reduction, breast implants, chest reconstruction (feminine and masculine). and i just think...i'll never be happy. let's say i got reconstructive skin grafts and replaced all my stretch mark skin, i would still have scars of that surgery. there's just no escaping the fact that i will have scars no matter what.
i suppose i can only accept what it is. not be happy with it. but accept it.
so yeah, there's my lifelong chest insecurity story.
(also, now that my chest is smaller, i wish i had a chest that looked more like tana or brooke. lol. i guess it's true: what you don't have is always better. ((but seriously, how do fit/thin people with larger chests like brooke exist? my boobs were the first to go when i lost weight.)))
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THE MEETING.
The old wooden floorboards creak with each step. World weary eyes take in the dark chapel, every inch memorized like the back of his hand.
How many years has Gabriel known this place. Too many, some would say. Perhaps even Gabriel would say so.
He leaned against a pew for support, stopping to rest and take in some breaths. He was old. His body was failing. Even the short distance from his rectory to his chapel was enough to wind him. And yet he did not fear his impending death. Each moment brought him closer to it, he knew, he had been ready for it since the day he dawned his collar. If it came tonight, he wouldn't mind. He hoped The Creator and Mother would take mercy on him.
Gabriel began slowly walking up toward his altar, but stopped in his tracks again. A brisk wind picked up, despite it just being dead still seconds ago. A breeze blew past him, lighting the candles that rested atop the altar, flicking in the breeze.
A sign?
"HAVE YOU COME TO PRAY?"
The voice was everywhere and nowhere, in front, behind, in his head and out loud. Masculine. Feminine. High pitched, low. Echoey. Hard to place.
From the shadows, eyes appeared, looking everywhere before focusing on Gabriel.
Gasping, Gabriel stepped back, as the figure fully materialized, a vaguely humanoid looking thing, blacker than the darkest night sky, dotted with eyes. Teeth were visible, shaped into a wide smile.
It looked at him. It looked into him. It saw him for what he was.
"I KNOW YOU, GABRIEL. I'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU."
Shaking, Gabriel muttered, "W-what do you mean?"
"YOU DON'T TRULY WANT TO DIE, CHILD. YOU FEAR IT. YOU CAN LIE TO YOURSELF ALL YOU WANT BUT WE BOTH KNOW." It seemingly glided over to him, towering over the elderly priest. Gabriel stared at it, fear coursing through his veins as it continued: "BUT I CAN GIVE YOU STRENGTH AGAIN. I CAN RELIGHT YOUR FLAME."
"R-relight my f-flame? You mean-"
"I CAN PUT OFF YOUR DEATH. FOR AS LONG AS I WISH." It giggles, tilting its head and leaning in awfully too close for comfort.
Frozen in place, unable to move away from the being, Gabriel asks, "What's the catch?"
"SIMPLE TERMS, CHILD." It moves away, circling behind Gabriel, placing a cold hand on the priest's shoulder and whisks him up to behind the altar, making it so Gabriel could look out on the empty church. "I WILL PROLONG YOUR LIFE," It leaned over his shoulder, grinning still, finding amusement in whatever ultimatum it decided. "IF YOU SHRUG OFF YOUR WORSHIP OF MY SIBLINGS. AND WORSHIP ONLY ME."
It clicked in his brain immediately after, who this being was. The Rogue God. The God Gabriel was taught of ever since he was a young boy, not to trust, not to even think about. And here it was. After decades of being good, what did Gabriel deserve to be suddenly met face to face with it?
"I HAVE SEEN YOUR WORK, GABRIEL. YOU ARE A VERY CAPABLE PRIEST. YOUR FLOCK IS LOYAL. TRUSTWORTHY. YOU ARE A GOOD MAN. THEY WILL FOLLOW YOU."
"Why? Why choose me?"
The Rogue God giggled again, "I HAVE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS MOMENT. FOR YOU. FOR A PRIEST WITH THE FORTITUDE AND STRENGTH YOU HAVE."
"Strength? I have no strength," Gabriel interrupted it, surprised it could even use those words to describe himself.
"YOU DO NOT SEE IT YET. BUT I WILL SHOW YOU JUST HOW STRONG YOU CAN BE. THE POWER YOU HAVE IN THIS SOCIETY IS IMMENSE. YOU WILL LEAD HUMANITY INTO A NEW ERA. ONE NOT SHACKLED BY THE OPPRESSIVE REGIME THAT YOU DESPISE."
The words weighed heavily in Gabriel's mind, what it said was true. Gabriel hated the theocracy that controlled his country's every aspect. He has seen too many innocents killed or imprisoned just for loving who they loved. Being who they truly were. He already welcomed so many "undesirables" into his church. He had protected so many-
"AND YOU CAN PROTECT THEM MORE." The God finished his thought, turning Gabriel once more so he could face it. "I SEEK TO CHANGE THIS WORLD. MY SIBLINGS HAVE BLINDED THEMSELVES TO THIS WORLD'S SUFFERING. BUT I AM SICKENED BY IT. WE CAN CHANGE IT."
"But I am just one man!" Gabriel exclaimed, "I cannot change the minds of hundreds of people- I cannot lead them-"
"I WILL BE WITH YOU." The Rogue took Gabriel's hands in its own and placed them against his chest, Gabriel feeling a warmth unlike anything he's ever known fill his chest, spreading to the rest of his body. The weakness he had felt earlier was gone, an unknown strength taking over. "WE WILL RESCUE THIS WORLD. TOGETHER."
"Yes. We will." Gabriel replied, with that Rogue laughed triumphantly and faded into the shadows once more.
"YOU WILL BE MY PROPHET, GABRIEL. YOU WILL SPREAD MY WORD."
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Okay so can I ask for some general headcanons for a Fem!MC in twst? The game has gender-neutral pronouns for the MC so far and it's an all boys school. How do you think the characters reaction/interactions would change if the MC was female? (if all are too much you can just pick your faves, maybe just include the octa and Savannahclaw dorm?) Just your thoughts and some brainrot💖
I think the boys would definitely be a lot more flirtatious to fem!MC!!! (I just wanna call her FeMC so I could say… fem… with a c at the end LOL). This is an all boys school, what do you expect?!
These are mostly short I’m sorry! I wanted to try to fit everyone in!
Ramshackle
Grim would lay at night curled up beside you. On days when your period hit, Grim would sense you in pain and get near your abdomen and purr. He feels like it’s an instinctual thing to do and if if helps out his minion, he’ll do it! Plus there’s tuna in it for him, right? Pet his ears too!
Heartslabyul
Riddle would definitely blush when you are around, but not too heavily! Sure he finds you attractive but it won’t stop him from fulfilling his duties as a dorm leader! He can’t help himself when he gets flustered talking to you since the only woman he grew up around was his strict mother. Since you’re different compared to her, he can’t tell but feel warmth from you which he wants to keep in his heart.
Ace and Deuce would make jokes at each other’s expense, both of them sorta going neck and neck trying to compete for your attention! They know you guys are just friends… unless..? 😳 Ace would make the snarky remarks while Deuce would threaten to beat Ace up.
Trey would act the same towards you, knowing he has to be a respectful upperclassman! You ALMOST can’t tell he sets aside the cupcake with more fruits or decoration on it for you at the Unbirthday party. Trey would give his signature smirk and wink as he sets it down in front of you.
Cater would take you on shopping sprees and outings to have so many photo opportunities with NRC’s only female student! Girls would flood his comments asking if you were his girlfriend, but he never answered. He secretly hopes you like him back so you could do cute couple things together like match outfits!
Savannaclaw
Leona would still call you herbivore and treat you the same as always. Still as lazy as before. However he can’t help but show off when he plays Magift and you happen to be watching. He lowkey stares at your features and shape of your body when you’re not looking 👀
Ruggie would also mostly act the same towards you, but he would bump into you on purpose so he can have an excuse to touch or smell you! His body tingles when he can smell your scent on the blazer he accidentally knocked into you with! Still treats you the same as ever though!
Jack would be gentler towards you, he knows how rough and big his body is, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you! His personality is still the same, don’t think he’ll treat you any differently because you’re a girl!
Octavinelle
Azul would try to make shady deals with you to offer you protection against students who may be too forward with you since you’re a girl. In exchange? For you to work at the lounge! and spend time with him. He secretly likes you but would never tell you to uphold his reputation and he is also afraid of rejection ;w; Azul would also not mind seeing you wearing the lounge uniform, fufufu…
Jade would would act more like a butler type! You also find him nearby sometimes, feeling his striking gaze looking at you. He’s always there when someone is trying to confess to you and you look uncomfortable. “Oya oya, do you need some help, miss?” His voice teasingly echoes through the halls, scaring off the guy who was trying to hit on you. Jade would stretch out his hand and escort you to wherever you needed to go.
Honestly? Unless you had a super “girly” appearance, Floyd wouldn’t have noticed until he gave you a hug to squeeze you, noticing your body was different… more squishy... and your bone structure is different. Shrimpy is so squeezable!!! Huh? He has to be wary of your chest? He’ll just lift you up by your tummy! You being a girl doesn’t stop the hug train!
Scarabia
Kalim wouldn’t treat you any differently! He would still definitely invite you over as often as possible, not realizing his sweetness may come off as flirtatious! Might develop a small crush on you :) imagines all the pretty outfits he could buy you from his homeland
Jamil would at first be wary of you but once he realizes you aren’t a threat to Kalim or the school, he stops doubting you. Definitely isn’t the type to judge you differently based on your gender!
Pomefiore
Vil would smirk and think he finally has someone else to practice makeup on! He definitely uses you as a model to show off his products, whether it be makeup, skincare, clothing, etc!
Rook would be… protective. He likes you because you’re different, and he would subtly follow and stake you out to see what things you’re doing differently at NRC as a girl. Rook offers silent protection against those he sees as a threat to you before you can even notice.
Epel would definitely try to prove his manliness in front of you if Vil isn’t in the vicinity! Going out of his way to carry heavy items, be tough, etc. If YOU tell him he’s manly, it’s certainly gotta mean something right?!
Ignihyde
Idia thinks it’s like some sort of anime trope, you’re the female protagonist and it’s like a reverse harem because the whole school is full of boys! Cough cough breaking the fourth wall here! He would probably be more… nervous around you, not like he would ever get close anyways, but still! The idea of the only girl at school actually being friends with you and maybe becoming more makes his heart beat faster.
Ortho would not. Perceive you any differently LOL. He’d be intrigued would say like “A girl? Cool! The body analyses I’ve done from everyone around you reads their body temperatures higher and their hearts are all beating faste- MMPH!” He would be silenced by ADeuce…
Diasomnia
Malleus…. Once he knows how you don’t fear him and how you like him even without knowing who he is. All he can think of is how beautiful you would be as his queen. Who can blame him? He has priorities and he needs to think of these things! I can also imagine him picking petals off flowers and saying “She loves me… she loves me not…” because he’s romantic like that… my heart
Lilia would use his experience in his vast years of dating to his advantage, knowing what ways to talk to a woman best. He swears he is only flirting with you for fun! The way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment is just too cute to resist! He certainly doesn’t mind a gender neutral MC, but Lilia can appreciate the beauty in every gender and he certainly appreciates your beauty!
Silver said 😪😴 . You notice Silver has more of a knightly approach to you, offering to protect you when you need it. He understands how a situation between one girl and hundreds of male students could provide a sense of fear, so Silver would always be there to protect you if you need!
Sebek would blush when you’re around, but he thinks you’re trying to use feminine charm and wiles to seduce the young master, even though all you did was make a yawn noise, flip your hair, or put on a bit of makeup! You have to explain to him that you aren’t doing anything to try to seduce anybody. You just wanted to go to school. He is doubtful but finally agrees. Maybe he was becoming victim to your charm instead?
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst imagines#twst headcanons#heartslabyul#savanaclaw#octavinelle#scarabia#pomefiore#ignyhide#diasomnia#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x you#twst grim
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what about some headcanons for the reader seeing loki in her feminine form for the first time after they’ve been dating for a while
Comfortable
Rules Of My Blog
Pronouns: Not Specified (You) / She/They (Loki)
A/N: There’s no good gifs I could find for femme Loki that aren’t just Sylvie, but that kind of works — you get to imagine her looking however you please 💕 ALSO I’M SO SORRY I FORGOT THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS
TW: Mentions of wine/casual drinking, nothing too in depth.
You’d been with Loki for quite a while
The two of you had become quite unlikely partners, but neither of you would change it
The God was so smitten with everything about you
The pet names you used, how you seemed to cast away their “doom and gloom” demeanor, even the way you’d surprise them with flowers some days
Loki had no idea how to go about courting a Midgardian; and Thor proved to be of no help
It took a while before they accepted that they could trust you, and they could let go of the self sabotaging habits, but you two persisted
Which brought you to where you currently were; sharing a place in Manhattan
Your partner spared no expense and insisted that everything be decorated to your liking
Dark green and (f/c) adorned your personal palace, accented by gold fixtures and weaponry
The Avengers agreed to let Loki move out of the tower, so long as they were still close and could be overseen easily
It wasn’t ideal, but they were gaining the team’s trust
Most days while you were at work, Loki spent their time reading in your apartment
The book shop just a few streets down had grown quite fond of you two, always welcoming you with friendly smiles
If they weren’t reading, they spent their time walking about the apartment in one of their other forms
You knew Loki was never completely cis, and you knew about their female form, but you’d yet to see it
In the summer you had only gotten glimpses of their Frost Giant form, usually just hands or the arm that was closest to you; always keeping you from overheating
The night you saw their other form was one you’d remember forever
You were a bit later than usual getting home from work, the sun having long disappeared by the time you reached the apartment
The opening of your front door was masked by the sound of music coming from the living room
When you entered, you had paused in slight shock with what you found
A gorgeous woman dancing barefoot, in a long robe, a glass of wine in hand
Anybody else would’ve been scared out of their mind, but you’d recognize the long black hair anywhere
“Darling?”
A green halo appeared quickly, seamlessly moving up her body as she turned to face you, the more familiar form greeting your arrival
“I-I… didn’t hear you come in. How was work?” They asked, placing the glass on the nearest surface
You gave a speed run of the events, all mundane, and began to hand over the flowers
“I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner later this week?”
Their face lit up as they sniffed the flowers; you always knew how to treat them
“That sounds rather nice, actually,”
“I have tomorrow off. What do you say we go shopping? Maybe we’ll find a nice dress — only if you want to.”
A meek smile crossed your features as you took their hand, giving a reassuring squeeze to let them know it was alright
“You… it doesn’t weird you out? That I’m… well…”
“Of course not, love, why would it? I’ll admit, I’ve known about this form for a bit — I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to be open with me. And if you’re still not ready, that’s okay — I fell in love with you. Whatever that may look like, it’s still you.”
The shy flush had turned into a bright smile as the green ring appeared again. This time, you got to see everything happen.
Their jet black waves began to get longer, facial features rounding, and their height decreasing just slightly. The broad shoulders you’d become familiar with changing shape and tone; still muscular, but a bit smaller.
Before you stood your love like you’d never seen her before
It felt like your heart was attempting to escape through your mouth, a new heaviness stalling your words
Suddenly you felt like a lovesick teenager all over again
“Is it too much? I can change—” you noted the higher pitch in her voice, like music to your ears
“No, you’re just so gorgeous… I’m really at a loss for words.”
She smiled, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and pulling you to the couch to share a drink
The two of you raised your glasses in solidarity
“To you, my Goddess, and to me — for having the most attractive partner in all of the Nine Realms.”
“Oh shut it and drink with me, you moron.”
Like my stuff? I appreciate that! If you don’t know, I’m a male/gender neutral insert blog. Reblogs are greatly appreciated, as they help others find my content.💕
#marvel x male reader#marvel x gn reader#marvel x gender neutral reader#marvel x reader#loki x male reader#loki x reader#loki x gender neutral reader#x male reader#x gn reader#x reader
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why do you ship chell and glados if glados is basically her mom
Okay this is actually a pretty common misconception in the fandom that unfortunately a lot of people have taken as canon, but I’m feeling nice so I’ll answer your question.
Basically, anon is referencing a theory from around 2012 that Caroline is Chell’s mom. The evidence for the theory is as follows:
- The turret opera calls Chell “bambina”, which means “little girl” in Italian
- Chell’s name can be found on a Bring Your Daughter To Work Day science project
- GLaDOS references the possibility of Chell being adopted multiple times
- GLaDOS is significantly nicer to Chell after discovering she’s Caroline
And, anon, you’re right, it does sound like a pretty good argument at first glance. The problem is that a lot of these points don’t actually hold up to scrutiny.
For example, although “bambina” literally translates to “little girl,” it’s often used in the same way “baby girl” is used in English - it can mean child, but contextually it’s usually a flirtatious term. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)
For Chell’s science project, it doesn’t work as evidence for the theory because GLaDOS killed the scientists around 1998-ish, when Caroline had presumably been uploaded several years earlier and Cave was already dead. Also, Chell’s in her 20′s, and since we know from Lab Rat/Portal 2 that people don’t age in stasis, and that Doug put Chell at the top of the test subject list only weeks after the takeover, Chell was 28 at the time of the takeover. The science project is really only an Easter egg and doesn’t actually fit into the canon timeline let alone prove anything about Caroline and Cave.
GLaDOS talking about Chell being adopted is a pretty strong point, I’ll admit, but also it’s important to remember that maybe half of what GLaDOS says is true. And even if we take what she says at face value, she also says there’s a man and a woman in stasis with Chell’s last name, which could not have been Cave and Caroline because they were already dead at that point. And the official book Final Hours Of Portal 2 confirms Cave and Caroline were not married and could not have shared the same name anyway. It was also the 50′s, an an unmarried couple of two likely famous people having a child would’ve been scandalous, and yet we see no hint of something like this affecting their company.
Also, although GLaDOS is nicer to Chell after the Caroline reveal, that’s not necessarily indicative of a mother-daughter relationship, and neither is any of their interactions. It’s just. GLaDOS being friendlier.
Finally, when this theory was made (and let’s be honest - it still is happening) Chell was constantly whitewashed to hell and back.
Chell is Japanese-Brazilian, and Cave and Caroline are white, so it would be a near impossibility for her to be their biological child (and insisting otherwise is kinda. just. whitewashing). And although people will cry “adoption!”, based on what I’ve previously proven, that’s pretty much impossible. This theory that somehow she’s Cave and Caroline’s daughter erases an important part of her identity. [Disclaimer, I am white, but this is what I’ve heard from around the fandom]
With all that said, the idea that she’s the daughter of Cave and Caroline really doesn’t hold weight when you really analyze the canon. It’s surface level analysis that doesn’t hold up. And honestly? The idea kinda cheapens the story. It’s much more powerful that GLaDOS learns to care about Chell and becomes kinder than just. Oh, she remembered she’s related to Chell.
But to actually answer your ask.
Why do I ship them?
Well, they aren’t mother and daughter, I think that’s pretty obvious now. But if you actually look at a lot of subtext in Portal 2, without the lens of the mother theory, it’s actually pretty romantic!
I know that sounds ridiculous, but bear with me!
Now - it’s totally okay if you don’t ship them. I get it. Their interactions in Portal 1 and the first half of Portal 2 are toxic if not outright well. Y’know. Murderous. I completely understand why that turns people off from shipping them, and ultimately, shipping is a personal thing. To each his own.
But before you judge me, let me present my case.
Exhibit A: Portal
Portal is kinda gay. No, really. Chell and GLaDOS are enemies in this game, but the entire focus is on their relationship (good or not) and the power struggle between them. They are opposites, two sides of the same coin, different representations of opposite ideologies. People have analyzed Portal as a relationship metaphor, or as a metaphor about women’s role in society - either way, the heart of Portal is the complicated dynamic between Chell and GLaDOS.
That’s not necessarily enough to code a romance, but a lot of popular (and especially popular queer ones) ships begin with opposite ideologies, symbolic powers colliding. Portal cements their relationship as a toxic one, something on the verge of falling apart and hurting both parties in the end. The ending image, of Chell and GLaDOS side by side after the battle, reinforces the symbolic parallels between the two.
The companion cube is also pretty symbolically important to this interpretation. It’s literally a representation of someone’s heart, and you are told to protect it and preserve it under GLaDOS’ orders, and then you have to destroy it regardless of how you actually feel about doing that. You are destroying GLaDOS’ heart, so to speak.
There’s also the ending song, Still Alive. The lyrics speak for themselves.
They hint that GLaDOS’ feelings about Chell are more complicated than they may appear (if she’s not being sarcastic...) and she literally talks about Chell breaking her heart (also, think back to the companion cube. Yeah.). The entire song is structurally similar to many a breakup number, with the laments of “I’m glad it happened, but also leave.”
At the end, we also see that the long promised cake GLaDOS was supposedly lying about was real the whole time. Before Portal 2 came out, it was mostly interpreted as a stinger ending (along with the nicer lyrics of Still Alive) to make you question GLaDOS’ true motives and intentions.
She actually did have a real cake waiting for you. (Side note - not really evidence, but in Argentina, “torta” means cake in Spanish. It’s also a slang term for lesbians. So. Do with that what you will). The cake is what GLaDOS offers you to lull you into the sense that she cares about you, so discovering that “the cake is a lie” wakes you up to the realization that she doesn’t. Except then the idea is subverted one last time, at the very end, showing that the cake is real and at least some of what she said she meant.
You also see the companion cube. You know, GLaDOS’ symbolic heart?
Now, okay, you might be thinking I’m extrapolating a bit too much. And you might be right. But Portal is not the only game in the series, and if you’re asking me about Cave and Caroline you obviously know about Portal 2.
Exhibit B: Portal 2
If you thought Portal was gay, Portal 2 turns that up to 11.
Even before GLaDOS wakes up, you’re treated to some visual subtext. A few of Rattmann’s drawings representing the events of Portal 2 focus a lot on the relationship between GLaDOS and Chell, with more of the cake symbolism.
In this, you can see a face layered on top of GLaDOS. This could be foreshadowing about Caroline, and likely is, but also resembles his other drawing of Chell. It insists that Chell is a part of GLaDOS, or reinforces parallels between Chell and Caroline, hinting at something either way.
In this picture, we also see Chell standing on top of GLaDOS, in the same position where the overlay of the feminine face was, again referencing the parallel. It also presents them as opposites, fundamental parts of the same thing and both connected to the same basis, but on opposing sides.
When GLaDOS wakes up, she returns to her antagonistic role, but there are more hints to something deeper just like in Portal.
Here, in her awakening lines, she references Chell not unlike an estranged ex. Also worth noting that GLaDOS is pretty much the personification of testing (in a sense, she is testing since she can control all of Aperture like an extension of her body), and insinuates that Chell loves to test. And that she reciprocates that feeling.
In test chamber 10, she says this:
It’s supposed to be threatening, but it does read as almost... sentimental.
There’s also another chamber with companion cubes in Portal 2. I already talked about their symbolism in Portal, and the same pretty much applies to them here. However, GLaDOS says something interesting about them during this level:
Once again, meant to be intimidating, ends up coming off as “well, GLaDOS, why were you going to give Chell a heart shaped representation of yourself that says ‘I love you?’” And you might think I’m stretching the GLaDOS’ heart metaphor thing a little far here, and I might agree, if the companion cubes didn’t literally sing Cara Mia for you.
Cara Mia is the turret opera from the end of the game, which is all about how much GLaDOS cares about Chell. More on that later. But the companion cubes play a song called Love as A Construct, and when you get close to them, they sing a specific part of the song that has the tune of Cara Mia. These things literally exist to sing about GLaDOS’ feelings.
Which makes this line a lot more. For lack of a better term. Tsundere-ish.
Then, right before the escape, she starts talking about the confetti from her fake surprise.
I really don’t have to explain this one. What else does GLaDOS consider an inconvenience but might miss anyway? Or, more aptly, who else?
Then, during the escape, she teases a (fake) final test chamber in front of you, and forms the panels in the shape of a heart. No, really.
Up to this point, a lot of the points I’ve presented are interspersed with a fair amount of antagonization on GLaDOS’ behalf, more Foe Yay than anything actually hinting at something deeper than GLaDOS being conflicted about whether she loves or hates Chell. But things really ramp up after Wheatley’s betrayal, when the two of them are forced to team up. (I should also note here that “enemies to lovers” is a pretty classic queer romance trope.)
Here, GLaDOS is put on an equal level with Chell and they have to rely on each other if they want to survive. For the rest of the singleplayer campaign, GLaDOS becomes a lot nicer and even friendly to Chell. There comes a point where she starts referring to Chell as a teammate, calling them “we.” She begins to consider them one unit, two opposites unified. Here’s what she says after the lemon rant:
You can not only see her using we, but actively talking about how her and Chell are going to fight Wheatley together. There’s also that last line - “let’s explode with some dignity.” GLaDOS has fully accepted the very likely possibility that she and Chell might die together. That she might die on the same level, and the same team as Chell. And she seems... surprisingly okay with that, as long as she and Chell go together.
It’s during the Old Aperture levels that Chell and GLaDOS also discover that they have a lot in common. This is the part of the game where GLaDOS figures out she’s Caroline, that she’s human. Or, that she’s like Chell. And Chell discovers (from what we can tell anyway) that Caroline is kind, that she’s funny and smart and so many of these things she never noticed about GLaDOS before. Now also with the knowledge she is fighting alongside another human being.
You can also draw parallels between Chell and Caroline, both intelligent women ultimately betrayed by their seemingly innocuous male friends before being trapped in Aperture and forced to team up with one another in a way that will free both of them. We see that really, GLaDOS isn’t that different from Chell - she too has been imprisoned in this place against her will, but in a completely different way. Once again, the idea of two sides of the same coin applies here.
I’ve written another meta about this before, but I also think the whole idea of repressing a part of your identity and hating it, before bonding with another woman and then realizing that it’s okay to be like her and to be on her side. It’s okay to be yourself and meeting her is what helps you discover this new part of yourself. Is kinda inherently gay. GLaDOS’ discovery of her own humanity just fits so well into a queer realization narrative, to me at least.
Then, Chell and GLaDOS escape Old Aperture and have to get through Wheatley’s tests.
Here, GLaDOS isn’t just begrudgingly on Chell’s team. She’s actively helpful. She wants to help Chell solve tests, defends her from Wheatley’s insults, and makes jokes to lighten the mood. Things that can really only be explained by her caring about Chell, especially the part about the insults. See below.
After the two escape Wheatley’s testing track, right before the boss fight GLaDOS has a few other things to say.
GLaDOS is not going to betray Chell, because of some kind of conscience. But she could easily ignore that back in her body, and yet? Here she’s deciding not to, and for no good reason. She didn’t have to say that to Chell, but she did, because she cares and she wants Chell to live.
And then, moments before the fight:
The final lines imply that GLaDOS does not think of Chell as an enemy anymore, and that it doesn’t matter what Chell thinks because they are in this together and they are getting revenge together. It’s pretty heartwarming to be honest, to know that even in a fight that will almost certainly kill you, she is there rooting for you and caring about you, even if you don’t feel the same way about her. It no longer matters to GLaDOS whether you even reciprocate - you staying alive, you making it through is enough for her.
So Chell fights Wheatley and sends him into space, all well and good, and at this point, GLaDOS has the option to kill Chell. But not only does she not, she actively saves Chell, and holds her hand in the process. If you don’t believe me:
And not only that, but when Chell goes unconscious from her injuries, GLaDOS sits and waits for her to wake up. It’s also implied that GLaDOS carries her to the elevator, since it’s where she wakes up but not where she passed out. In the scene where Chell blacks out, you can also hear the part of Love As A Construct that sounds like Cara Mia. Yeah. Yeah.
If you think that this cannot possibly get any gayer, you are wrong again, because then GLaDOS makes her final speech. Which is really just a love confession, let’s be honest.
The “surge of emotion?” Do you mean love, GLaDOS? And the idea of GLaDOS considering Chell her best friend, despite everything these two have done to each other? The idea that GLaDOS, out of all people, forgives someone?
Except this isn’t even Chell’s final send-off. GLaDOS writes her an entire opera of turrets, that sing a literal love song. (Note what I said earlier about the use of the word “bambina”).
It really can’t get any more obvious than that. “My (affectionate romantic term here), my dear, I adore you.” How. Is. That. Heterosexual. In. Any. Way.
So Chell goes to the surface, set free by GLaDOS (think of the saying “if you love something, set it free), and you think that’s the end. Until GLaDOS gives you a companion cube so you aren’t alone on the journey, and from the burn marks, you know it’s your first companion cube. Her original heart, her first gift to you, a piece of her that she wants you to carry with you to remind you that she does care about you after everything. It also gives the lyrics to Still Alive a much more genuine meaning.
Portal 2 ends, and then the ending song, another GLaDOS number plays. Just like Still Alive, Want You Gone is structurally a break up song and very obviously about GLaDOS missing Chell and “counting on” (read: caring about/loving) Chell’s tendencies and quirks.
She’s accepted Chell completely, and yet also given Chell the one thing she wants most. Only wanting Chell gone can mean GLaDOS not wanting Chell in her life anymore, but can also mean she wants to give Chell the freedom she’s wanted for so, so long. It’s the best thing she can give.
In the co-op campaign, GLaDOS also references still caring about Chell.
And that’s the end of the Portal series. Except. Brace yourself. Despite the games being over, there is STILL more subtext somehow. It gets. Even gayer.
Exhibit C: Supplemental Evidence
Valve has made a lot of extra/cut content for the Portal series, and I’ll be looking at some of it below.
This official valentine from Valve shows GLaDOS offering a romantic partner cake, which as we’ve established before, is very symbolic of GLaDOS’ feelings about and/or relationship with Chell.
There’s a lot of other concept art and official art that emphasizes their relationship too. See below.
There’s also some cut GLaDOS lines that are even gayer than the source material and again, sound like confessions or references to a breakup:
The idea of “discovering things about someone”... how much more obvious can it get?
The developers have even confirmed a lot of my commentary on Chell and GLaDOS’ relationship in The Final Hours Of Portal 2. See these quotes from the book/this post:
The devs literally describe it as a romance. They use terms like “cheating,” they wanted to write a romantic duet, JoCo purposefully wrote the endings like love songs. It is literally, blatantly said by the creators of the game that their relationship is interpreted romantically. By the creators of the game.
And if Word of God confirmation isn’t enough for you, have a song written for a cut alternate ending by GLaDOS’ voice actress, Ellen McClain. The song is literally nothing but GLaDOS talking about caring about Chell, about not wanting her to die/leave GLaDOS alone, about wanting to bake a cake with Chell, about waiting for Chell to wake her up. It’s so genuinely sweet and sad, and really, really romantic in the most heartwrenching way possible.
JoCo also came back for the Portal levels in Lego Dimensions, writing one final breakup song for GLaDOS to sing about Chell. It comes off as GLaDOS not wanting to admit she misses Chell even though she obviously does, trying to replace their relationship but failing, and even explicitly forgiving Chell/wanting her to come back.
Also, the “finally I understand,” as if only now GLaDOS understands just how deep her feelings for Chell are... What else can I say?
In Lego Dimensions, GLaDOS also outright rejects anyone who isn’t Chell.
In Conclusion:
Why do I ship Chell and GLaDOS?
Well, ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether I ship them.
Because I think it’s glaringly obvious Portal does.
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Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader
Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match. (~5.1k words)
Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex
A/N: Part of @cherrytenko’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!
---
It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.
It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day -
A date.
“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.
“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly.
Sure, never any obligations.
As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.
You hate this.
This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale - not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.
In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.
Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.
There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.
Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.
There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself.
You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.
The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.
You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.
The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.
“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall.
He’s not here.
You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.
You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit.
The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room.
Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense?
You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.
For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you.
“My apologies, Ms. ___.”
You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry.
You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.
“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”
He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle.
Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.
Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.
“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.
You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”
“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool.
Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.
“Please order anything you like.”
You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.
Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior.
Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts.
But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think.
When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.
You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.
“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.
“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.
Maybe you’re the one staring.
“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down.
You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.
Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.
But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.
“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.
His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.
You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?
You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.
“What do you do outside of work?”
His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.
“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”
A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.
Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.
“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”
You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.
“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”
It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.
Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?
He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”
You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.
---
“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”
You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you.
Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?
The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips.
When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.
So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.
---
You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.
“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.
You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.
---
“Miss ____?”
Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.
“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.
“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf.
You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.
“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.
---
“Was the sex at least good?”
Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.
You begrudgingly say yes.
“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.
“He’s missing out, though.”
“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.
---
Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.
Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.
You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.
A curt email from a crucial business partner read,
We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.
Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?
Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.
“What happened?”
“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”
This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.
Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”
“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call.
“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click.
Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.
The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.
How embarrassing.
You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.
It turns out he did.
“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”
His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.
“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”
There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”
“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”
He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.
“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”
You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.
“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”
Finally the lightbulb went on.
“Oh, that was you. Hm.”
If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.
“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”
“Excuse me?”
That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call.
“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”
“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”
Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?
“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh.
---
The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.
There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.
I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.
Respectfully,
Ushijima Wakatoshi
Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.
Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying.
You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.
---
It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.
Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.
Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.
After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor.
And snatching your dignity in the process.
It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well.
“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.
“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”
She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.
You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.
“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”
He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new.
You hate that he looks good.
“Apologizing and requesting your company.”
He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.
“Please leave.”
He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you.
“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”
“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.
“I… got busy.”
“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.
He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.
“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”
You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Why would you think that?”
His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him.
“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”
Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.
“So…?”
“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”
You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?
His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.
“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.
“I’m bad at starting conversations.”
You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.
“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”
You purse your lips.
“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.
You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”
He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.
“No. I just like you.”
Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.
You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.
Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.
“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”
---
A couple months later...
“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.
“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.
There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.
This isn’t a good look.
“I-I can’t…” you whine.
“You can,” he assures you.
He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.
Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.
“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.
He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either.
When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him.
Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.
“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.
“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.
He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.
#ushijima x reader#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ceo!ushijima x reader#ceo collab#ushijima wakatoshi smut#ushijima smut#haikyuu smut#not sfw#fic: power struggle#mae.writing#hqintheclub
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You know, not to be that person who constantly posts about wedding-planning-related-things, but this post is mostly just about style and fit and shopping for formal dresses in general, not just wedding fashion.
I think the way people talk about 'dressing for your body type' is often really skewed and misleading, and also boils down people into 'body types' in a way that's not really applicable to real life! Anyone else feel this way when it comes to shopping for clothes, especially special event gowns?
Before shopping for my wedding dress (which I did months and months of research before doing, because I was cooped up in a pre-vaccine pandemic scenario when I got engaged), I always struggled to find dresses for special occasions but also was never sure how to articulate WHAT I didn't like about them or why I didn't think they worked. Shopping has always been stressful for me, and it tends to be hard to find things that fit well because my proportions are a little funny, but I'd always see dresses that looked great on the hanger and then when I put them on, I was never fully satisfied. Sometimes I bought them because they were the only thing that really fit well or didn't make me feel horrible about myself, but I still wasn't thrilled with the overall fit or look. I always struggled to articulate what it was that I was looking for or what I thought looked good on me.
There are so many moving parts to juggle when you're shopping for a fancy dress: not just length and dress size, but what silhouette is the skirt, where is the waistline on it, what's the neckline like, how much support does it give, are there sleeves or straps, what type of fabric is it, blah blah blah blah.
If you're like me and tend to be a little self-conscious about your appearance, it can be overwhelming and I think the temptation is to think about things in terms of 'how will I disguise, cover up, or hide this part of me?' You'll be so focused on trying to avoid your deepest insecurities that you completely forget to think about what details would actually most flatter and highlight your appearance. If you just dwell on covering up the negative and don't accentuate the positive, you'll end up with a dress that makes you feel mediocre.
And I partly blame those style guides that you can look up for tips. I was recently looking up recommendations for the best bridesmaid dress gowns for different body types, because my bridesmaids have pretty different body types and I wanted to help suggest some possible styles that might make them feel good. I was shocked by how negative the advice was, even though they tried to write it all with euphemistic wording.
For example, I specifically remember that for “athletic bridesmaids,” it talked about trying to find ways to ‘create a cute, curvy, feminine silhouette,’ like saying that an athletic bridesmaid, presumably someone who would ostensibly be proud of her body because of its athletic abilities, would want to disguise it to look more curvy and feminine. I was really expecting it would give tips for dresses that would highlight an athletic bridesmaid’s strong arms and back, not ‘here’s how you can look softer and more feminine!’
The dreaded ‘apple shape’ and ‘pear shape’ are always deployed in terms of ‘how can we disguise this shape to look more balanced? How can we make you look less like an apple or less like a pear?’ Instead of just... what styles of dresses best fit and complement and are comfortable on the body you have now? For example, I’d think a bustier bridesmaid might want a dress that gives good bust support so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Advice on what kind of straps and necklines are best for that seem like more useful advice than ‘here are styles of dresses that minimize your bust if it’s large, and here’s advice on how to look fuller-chested if you’re not! No matter your size, there’s something wrong with your chest and you need to flatter it by making it look different!
When I think about what outfits really make my friends shine, I’m not thinking in terms of, “Wow, this really made me forget that my short friend was short! It effectively disguised her petite-ness and made her look tall!”
Another thing that’s complex about all of those comparing-people-to-a-piece-of-fruit guides is that they seem to assume you only have one trait. “Do you have wide hips? Wear this type of dress to make your hips look narrower. It doesn’t matter if you wear size 2 or size 22, if you have A cups or GG cups, if you are short or tall, if you have a proportionately narrow waist or straight waist, if you have the muscular arms and shoulders of an Olympic rower, no matter what, you are a pear shape and that is the only recommendation we will give you.” An ‘apple shape’ who wears a size 4 but doesn’t have much of a defined waist may not feel like fashion guidelines recommending how to ‘minimize or conceal’ her tummy are very useful. A ‘petite’ bride who is 4′9 might find that the description also assumes she’s very thin, when she may be both petite and plus-sized.
I remember shopping for prom dresses in high school and stuff and thinking, “I don’t want the dress to be clingy to my stomach, I don’t want to show cleavage, I don’t want people to see my back acne,” I ended up with a series of empire-waisted halter dresses because they don’t show much cleavage, even though I don’t think halter necks look good on me at all, and I picked several dresses that hit me in the totally wrong place because I was too focused on avoiding fabrics that were too clingy in the stomach and not looking for flattering silhouettes. I was never really happy, but at least they matched the criteria I was looking for, I thought?
So when I actually went shopping for my wedding dress, like I said, I’d done a lot of research about what different styles were out there and what I liked. But instead of focusing on the parts of me that I wanted it to hide or distract from, I went in thinking, “I want a dress that will show off my waist and shoulders” and made a list of adjectives I wanted to look in the dress (elegant, regal, classic) that made me feel SO much less self-conscious and negative when shopping. That is REALLY REALLY REALLY what I would recommend for anyone shopping for any kind of fancy dress in the future, whether it’s for prom, bridesmaid, formal dance, awards ceremony, wedding, whatever!
I wore this dress to an award ceremony in high school. It was technically the right size, but I feel like the fit did nothing for me, and I do not look confident or happy wearing it. The image below it is me shopping for a wedding dress 12 years later and feeling a lot more confident!
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A Matter of Admiration Alpha Gang Orca x Omega f!Reader
Hello Hello! Here is my very VERY late submission for the SFW portion of Spudcorner's Valentine Blood and Chocolate Collab. This was meant to be a two page drabble. 13 pages later it's a bit more than that. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy!
Sequel/Epilogue Here
Content Warnings- Omegaverse, SFW, Insecurities, Misunderstandings, Pining, Fluff, Lots of food mentioned, Kugo being very down on himself, very minor mention of blood and stitches needed.
“Really? Again?”
The large alpha seemed to shrink under your judgemental glare.
“I am sorry, Y/N. The fight got intense and it slipped off. Someone must have stepped on it.”
You sighed heavily, your gaze turning to the workbench where the shattered remains of your creation sat. This was your seventh attempt at outfitting Gang Orca with a communicator headset. It was dangerous for him to keep fishing for a handheld during the heat of battle. Unfortunately, his lack of outer ear made keeping a headset on him difficult. Shaking your head, you gave a small smile.
“Not your fault, Sakamata. We knew this was going to be tricky. Though at this rate I’m tempted to just glue a headset on you and call it a day.”
Kugo snorted, his posture relaxing. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I hate to see your hard work go to waste.”
“It’s not a waste if I learn something from it. This one lasted a couple weeks of normal patrol work, so that’s an improvement. We just need to figure out what was different about this fight. So, sit. Talk.”
Kugo shook his head with an amused huff. He admitted he had been slightly dubious when you had first come to his agency. He’d encountered many hero support workers claiming to specialize in mutation quirks that seemed to be looking for lab rats for their creations. However, you always listened to what he said, and made suggestions that would actually make his job easier. You made sure your support items not only were functional, but comfortable at well. If the few years you had worked for him, he was pleased to say you had become good friends.
“I can’t right now, Y/N. I need to get cleaned up, then complete my report before I forget the details. I’ll come back first thing tomorrow.”
You frowned, tapping your foot. Kugo fought to keep a neutral expression. You’d never forgive him if you knew how much he enjoyed your expressions when you were annoyed.
“Alright. Fine. First thing tomorrow. But make sure you get some rest tonight, you’ve been working too hard lately!”
Sakamata waved a hand in answer as he walked out the workshop door. He’d try to follow your request, but a hero’s work is never done.
~~~~~
Gang Orca shuffled through the door to his agency with an aura of gloom about him. In the past five days, he had broken five more communicators, gotten into several serious fights, and had allowed a villain to escape. And that was just his work life. Some of his friends had set him up for a speed dating session. He didn’t blame them for trying, but it ended exactly how he knew it would. Most of the omegas who had been present were scared of him, and those that weren’t were clearly only interested in his pro hero paycheck. Kugo trudged toward his office, his thoughts gloomy. A man with a quirk like his would never have a normal courtship. It hurt sometimes. How nice it would be to come home to a sweet smelling omega. What wouldn’t he give to home filled with pups, and laughter and love? He sighed softly as he swung his door open. Such a life was not meant for him, so no point in even dreaming.
On autopilot, he hung his coat on the coat rack, and turned to set his briefcase on his desk. However, the desk was already occupied. Kugo tilted his head as he stared at the object resting on his desk. It appeared to be a large bento box, wrapped in a rather feminine handkerchief, patterned with some sort of flowers. Kugo set his briefcase down on a chair before coming closer to investigate. Gingerly, he untied the knot, setting the cloth aside as he looked at the contents curiously.
First and most obviously, was the strawberry shaped sticky note attached to the top. “You looked like you had been having a rough week. I hope this can make it better!” The writing was… painstakingly cute. The “i”s were dotted with little hearts. Each letter having just a little bit of flourish, while still being legible.
Kugo hummed quietly to himself. Clearly this had been left on his desk by mistake. A bit awkward, considering his name was on the door, but there was no other explanation. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered his options. He could take a guess at who the bento was for. There were several popular alpha heroes working for him that got their share of gifts from admirers. The soft omegan scent coming from the handkerchief that had wrapped the bento was a solid clue the gift was likely meant for one of them. But really, there was no way to tell for sure who it was supposed to end up with, and he really didn’t want the hard work to go to waste. Yes. Best thing would be to eat the bento, and place the box in the break room with a note inside the box apologizing.
His course of action decided, Kugo opened the bento, quietly sucking a breath as he saw what was inside. There were sausages cut to look like little octopi. A large slab of teriyaki salmon. Rice balls shaped like teddy bear heads, complete with little seaweed faces. He tried to tamp down his delight at seeing over half of the bento was dedicated to tamagoyaki. While he lived up to his stereotype of loving fish, the egg dish was a secret favorite of his; something his mother had made for him whenever he had a bad day when he was growing up. The second layer of the bento had even more. Rice, vegetables, and surprisingly a small but adorable piece of cake. Kugo put the bento back together with a small smile on his face. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him, but it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy something like this- cute and homemade, clearly filled with a great deal of care. He couldn’t quite feel guilty as he looked forward to lunch. He could pretend, just this once, that a sweet smelling omega had put so much care into something for him.
~~~~~~
Later that day, when most of the day team had left, Kugo made his way to the common break room. He carefully cleaned out the bento box in the sink, setting it to the side to dry. He folded the handkerchief it had came in, and placed it next to the box before sighing. He was in the process of scribbling a brief apology note when he heard a cough. He glanced up to see y/n leaning against the doorway.
“You okay, chief? Thought your shift ended an hour ago.”
Kugo nodded as he placed his note on top of the handkerchief. “Yes, just had a few things I needed to wrap up. What about you? I know you were supposed to be done several hours ago now.”
You fidgeted, embarrassed, shrugging your shoulders as you glanced away. “Had an idea for how to improve a few items and, well, you know how I get when I have a project. But what have you got there? You never struck me as the homemade lunch type.”
It was Kugo’s turn to look uncomfortable as he shuffled from foot to foot. “It was left on my desk this morning by mistake. I had no way of knowing who it was actually meant for, and I didn’t want it going to waste, so I ate it.”
You frowned as you walked into the room, opening cupboards and starting to retrieve things to make tea. You held a mug up toward Kugo in a silent question, grabbing a second one when he nodded. You were quiet for a few moments, going through the motions. After a while you asked “How are you so sure it wasn’t for you?”
Kugo snorted, leaning back against the counter and gesturing at himself. “Omegas aren’t exactly lined up around the block. I don’t place high on the ‘heroes that look most like villains’ list every year for no reason. Some unfortunate omega got confused about whose office was whose. It’s a shame I couldn’t give it to whoever it was meant for, it was a beautifully crafted bento.” Kugo doesn’t mention the note. Kugo especially doesn’t mention the note had found its way into his desk drawer to save as a memory of how nice it had been to receive the bento, even if it was an accident.
You laughed, passing him a steaming cup of tea, made just how he liked. “Sakamata, don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re big, strong, and prime alpha material. You’re one of the top heroes! And even more importantly, you’re a gentle kind man that any omega would be lucky to have. I’d bet good money that that bento absolutely was made just for you.”
“A nice thought, but I doubt it. You’ll see. In a few days I bet a bento will make its way to who it was meant for.”
~~~~~~
Kugo stood stock still in the doorway to his office. Sitting on his desk was another cloth wrapped package. Once was a mistake, clearly. But two days in a row? Why on Earth was there another bento on his desk? He approached the desk and slide the bento to him. He untied the scented fabric with care. A cat shaped note greeted him.
“I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear before, Sakamata. I wanted to make this for you because I admire you so much. I’m not always great at saying my feelings, so I hope my cooking says enough.”
This was… for him. The bentos… were for him? He sat in his chair, leaning his head against his hands as he regarded the innocent looking lunch. If it wasn’t a mistake, then what could it be? Probably a fortune hunting omega trying to get in his good graces, if he went off his past experience. Though usually those types of omegas were more likely to offer favors of a different sort. Kugo winced as another thought occurred to him. There was a good chance this omega pitied him. Ugly, intimidating, unmatable. Someone had seen him and decided he needed looking after because clearly he’d never get someone on his own. Yes. That had to be it. He should leave the bento in the break room and end this farce as soon as possible.
His mind made up, Kugo picked up the bundle to do exactly that. The subtle smell of the contents hit his sensitive nose, causing him to salivate. Tempura? Definitely egg. Well, it would be a shame to not even look inside to make sure.
Clearly just as much care had gone into this one as the last one. The rice balls were shaped like little cat heads, to match the note. An assortment of tempura seemed to be the main dish, cute cat shaped food picks stuck in some of them. There were even paw print shaped gummy candies for the dessert. Every inch of the lunch was absolutely adorable. And it was all done for him. There was no way Kugo could let it go to waste. It hurt to know it was a gift given out of pity, but maybe, just for a while, he could pretend there was someone out there who loved him like this. The omega would grow tired of this eventually. Until then, he’d let himself enjoy this.
~~~~~
It was surprising how easily this had become routine. Every day when Kugo walked into his office, there was a new bento waiting for him. And every day he’d unwrap the bento, indulging a brief moment in the cutely patterned handkerchiefs. Every bento was unique and cute. They seemed to show a good understanding of his tastes and preferences. It was a pleasant break on the quiet days and a welcome comfort on the rough days. Each day there was a sweet written note that Kugo gently stored in his desk drawer. It was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
~~~~~~~
Kugo hated attending charity events. It wasn’t the charities, he always supported good causes. It wasn’t the dressing up, or the fancy atmosphere. It was the people. While a few of his friends were around somewhere, there were many many others who didn’t know him well. Others who were intimidated by his appearance. Others who apparently had no idea just how sharp his hearing was.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe Gang Orca is here.”
“I know! Well, I suppose he is a hero. Allegedly, anyway.”
“Did he come with anyone?”
“Of course not. I mean ew. Look at him. Can you imagine cosying up to that at the end of the day?”
“I know! And those teeth! If he tried to bond someone, he’d take their head clean off!”
“As if anyone would want to bond with that.”
“I don’t know. He’s in the top ten pretty often. He has to be loaded, right?”
“Would have to be a lot for me to even consider it.”
“It could be all the money and I still wouldn’t!”
“Oh don’t say that! Poor bastard can’t help he’s unmatable.”
Kugo walked away from the refreshment table as he tried to tune out the unkind comments and mocking laughter. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. He knew full well what he looked like. He had had enough failed courting attempts to know exactly what omegas thought of him. But it still stung. Stung more than usual, actually. The daily bentos with their scented cloths and cute little notes had almost made him forget. The only omegas who were interested either pitied him, or wanted his money. He could never forget that.
~~~~~
What he could forget, apparently, was that the number two pro hero was scheduled to be at his office the morning after the charity gala. Kugo stifled a sigh when he saw the red winged hero waiting outside his agency’s door. Of course he’d have to deal with this on a day when he wasn’t in the best of moods.
“Orca! My man, good to see you again!”
Kugo nodded as he held the door open. “Hawks.”
“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party last night. You know how it is. Go to one of those things when you're single, and you get swarmed.”
Kugo gave a non committal grunt. No, he didn’t know. He just wanted this morning to be over with. He perked up slightly as he saw you hurrying down the hallway toward them. Hawks gave a low whistle. “Who's the babe?”
Kugo half growled. “That is Miss Y/N. The support item engineer you allegedly came here to see. You will be respectful and refrain from flirting with my staff.”
Keigo held up his hands and laughed. “Hey now big guy, don’t mean any offense. Just saying you’re lucky to get to work with that every day.”
Kugo jerked his head in an abbreviated nod. You slowed down your quick walk as you got closer, not wanting to interrupt the heroes’s conversation. Kugo waved you closer. You smiled at him so brightly as you joined the group. Yes. He was lucky to work with a friend such as you. Kugo’s nerves started to cool a bit as he introduced you and the three of you began to make your way to his office. Hawk’s casual questions were more inquisitive than flirty, and Kugo knew from long experience just how much you enjoyed being able to talk in depth about your work. He was smiling by the time he opened the door to his office, ushering the two or you in. Hawk’s next words hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face.
“Dang! Either you got one hell of a cafeteria service at this agency, or Gang Orca has himself quite an admirer. Delivered right to your desk, pretty bold, man! That’s exactly why I keep my door locked. There’s only so much lunch a man can eat, am I right?”
The bento. He had forgotten about the stupid bento. There it sat, as always. The handkerchief was especially cute today, some sort of pattern with teddy bears hugging and kissing. Any other day, the sight would have calmed him. Any other day he would have sat down and quickly poked through to see what surprises lay inside that day, would have read the note meant just for him with a smile.
But today was different. Others were in his office. The number two hero, handsome and popular. His support engineer, pretty enough to probably have plenty of suitors of her own. And then there was him. Large. Scary. Consistently told he looks like a villain. Has never had a relationship that wasn’t pitying or profiteering. Kugo remembered the whispered remarks from the party. Usually he’d be able to brush off Hawks’s commentary. But today…
Kugo snarled, his scent agitated as he swept his arm across the desk, knocking the bento roughly into the trash. “They are a nuisance that need to cease! I’m so tired of some desperate piting omega shoving their unwanted, unneeded efforts at me! Enough is enough!” At the end his voice was raised to a shout. He was dimly aware of his nails digging deeply into his palms. Kugo leaned on the desk, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. He could hear the others shuffling behind him awkwardly.
“Come on,” You murmured and lightly tugged on Keigo’s sleeve. “How about I show you my lab and take some measurements before we get started.”
“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” Keigo allowed you to lead him away. You softly closed the door behind you. Kugo remained, hunched and breathing raggedly. It took him several minutes to calm down. It took him a few minutes beyond that to gather the nerve to make the trek down to the support lab. He slipped into the room as inconspicously as a man with his fram could manage. You were taking measurements off of Keigo and muttering to yourself as you tapped out notes on your tablet. Keigo noticed Kugo’s entrance and greeted him cautiously. “You good?” Kugo nodded. “I… apologize. It’s been a rather trying week, but I should have composed myself better.”
Keigo waved him off. “No worries, man, no worries. Y/n was just telling me she thinks that she’ll be able to rig up something for me that would help slow my fall in situations where my wings get damaged.”
You hummed an affirmative, taking a few more measurements before you started describing your process. Kugo couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look his way. You looked at the ground, at your tablet, at Keigo, but you were clearly avoiding Kugo’s gaze. He mentally winced as he settled onto an out of the way stool. It was rare for him to have that kind of emotional outburst. It probably could be heard even from outside his office. He’d make sure to apologize to you better when he got the chance. But for now, it was looking like it would be a long, awkward day. Goodie.
~~~~~
Kugo growled under his breath the next morning when he saw the cloth wrapped bundle sitting on his desk. Yesterday’s embarrassment was still fresh in his mind as he stalked forward. His thick fingers quickly untied the surprisingly unpatterned piece of fabric. There, under the cloth, on top of the box, was a note as there always was. Kugo’s anger was cooled by confusion when he saw it, however. The paper was a plain yellow post-it note. Instead of the painstakingly cute handwriting with the heart dotted “i’s, there was a clearly hasty scrawl.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you. This will be the last one.”
Kugo frowned, shifting in his seat. Clearly the bento maker had heard about his outburst from yesterday. That was… unfortunate. But perhaps for the best, since he had no way of directly telling them to cease their nonsense. Unconsciously, his hand balled up the handkerchief and as he had been doing for a while, he scented it.
The cloth had a slight smell of salt to it. Tears, Kugo realized uncomfortably. The smell of tears slightly diluted the normal soothing smell of whoever had carefully packaged these bentos. He had little appetite as he looked over what was there. Tempura. Salmon. Vegetables. A large portion of tamagoyaki. But the part that caused an uncomfortable weight to settle in his chest was the little red box, filled with slightly clumsy, clearly homemade chocolates. Kugo closed his eyes, sighing as he set the box to the side to wait for lunch. This was good. This was what he wanted, to be left alone instead of some kind hearted omega taking pity on him. He had lived a long time without homemade bentos and little notes. He certainly didn’t want the small offering of chocolates. When lunchtime came, he certainly didn’t linger over the food longer than usual, savoring each bite. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best. That this was what he wanted. He refused to think about why he tucked the handkerchief and the box of chocolates into his desk drawer instead of leaving them in the break room as usual.
The next day as Kugo opened his office door, he looked toward his desk out of habit; searching for the lunch that had been left. His chest gave an uncomfortable lurch when he found the desk was bare. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. This was fine. This was what he wanted. The sooner he forgot about all this nonsense, the sooner things would return to normal. He settled into his chair and began sifting through the paperwork he had to deal with. No better way to take his mind off his troubling thoughts and distract the whine of his inner alpha. He was certain. Things would be back to normal soon.
Two weeks later, Kugo listlessly picked at the limp lettuce of the poor excuse of a salad that he had picked up at a convenience store. He sighed, putting the lid back on the barely touched meal resolving to throw it away when he next passed a garbage can. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed the carefully planned meals. Wondering what cute surprise was going to be next. It was nice that someone thought he might enjoy seeing animal shaped onigiri and cheesecake flavored kit kats. His alpha whimpered when he thought about the contented omega scent that gently perfumed every handkerchief, except the last. But just as the note had said, he had received nothing since that last bento. His thoughts remained gloomy as he entered the agency, quickly making his way into his office, locking the door behind him. He knew better than to hope as he looked towards his desk. Bare, once again. Sighing heavily, he slumped into his chair. He gently pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. Carefully nestled into it was the cleaned, empty bento box from the last meal, the small box of dwindling homemade chocolates, and that last precious handkerchief.
Kugo carefully removed the handkerchief. He brought the cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply. Stabbing pain shot through him as he realized the scent was barely there anymore. The faint scent of tears almost completely overpowering the last lingering trace of distressed omega. His hands clutched the fabric tightly, squeezing until he realized the stress he was putting on the fabric. He quickly placed it on the desk and tried in vain to smooth out the wrinkles. After a minute of fussing, he gently refolded it and placed it back in the drawer. Kugo stared at the contents, unblinking before slowly sliding the drawer closed. It was almost gone. Everything was almost gone. And he didn’t know how to get it back.
With a low growl, Kugo pushed himself up. Today was a rare day where he hoped for trouble on his patrol. A fight would certainly take his mind off things, and just maybe calm the whining alpha that echoed throughout his entire being.
~~~~
He really needed to be careful what he wished for. Kugo winced as he limped toward the support lab. He had gotten a fight alright. He had gotten three fights, a twisted ankle, and a once again smashed communication headset. It wasn’t his fault that he had gotten thrown backwards into a rather solid concrete wall. Y/N was going to kill him.
Kugo pushed the lab door open, stepping inside. His forehead creased in worry. The lab felt off. Wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately place a finger finger on. Well, he’d have to think about it later, he decided as he made his way to where you were sitting. You were at your workbench, tapping your pen on the table and staring at nothing when he settled down on the stool next to you. You glanced over as Kugo sat down, did a double take and let out a small noise of surprise.
“Sakamata! What happened to you?”
The large man shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “The usual. Villain didn’t behave exactly how I thought, and I paid for not being vigilant enough. Nothing too bad. Twisted ankle and roughed up a little. Unfortunately though…”
Sheepishly as a scolded schoolboy, Kugo pulled the shattered remains of his latest communicator out of his pocket and placed them on the workbench.
“Kugo!”
He couldn’t help but smile. He loved the times when you got worked up enough to call him by his first name. He watched as you gingerly sifted through the sad shattered remains.
“What did you do, hit it with a rock?!”
“Concrete wall, actually.”
You stilled before turning to look at Kugo, sharp and suspicious. “And I assume you were wearing it at the time?”
Kugo had the decency to look embarrassed as he nodded. Suddenly he was being fussed over, gentle hands touching his face and turning his head this way and that. An exclamation and curse left you when you found a large, sluggishly bleeding gash on the back of Kugo’s head.
“You! You Alpha!” You huffed as you started digging through the pockets of your lab coat. Kugo got a brief glimpse of colored fabric before the handkerchief was softly dabbing at his wound. Kugo hissed, only half listening as the scolding continued about how knot headed alphas needed to learn to go to the medical ward first before worrying about stupid replacable tech. He was brought back to the present when a hand, so much smaller than his own, grabbed his hand. You easily maneuvered him so that Kugo was now firmly holding the handkerchief over the cut. You hummed, satisfied for now.
“Now Sakamata, please hold that there until you can get medical to look at it. Doubt a hard headed man like you has a concussion, but might need stitches. I’m not exactly an expert. Don’t worry about the headset. I should be able to get a new one to you before my replacement takes over. And if not, I’ll be leaving some blueprints behind anyway.”
What?
“Replacement?”
You stilled, looking away from him. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just… I never found the right time to tell you.” You fidgeted, rubbing your thumb over your knuckles. “I’m going to be going to America soon. I’ve gotten a good offer to work with a few heroes over there that need someone specialized in mutation supports. It would do a lot to boost my career…”
Kugo reached out, grabbing your hand, and stopping your nervous motions. He tried to find words in his stalling brain. “This is really sudden, Y/N.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” You wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He gently shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “Not scolding you. Just, is everything alright? Is something going on?”
You pulled away, digging your hands into your hair with a sigh. “You know me too well.”
Kugo gave half a smile. “I would hope so. I like to think we’re friends. Is there anything I can do? Are you in trouble in some way?”
You shook your head. “No. No, nothing like that. It’s kind of embarrassing. Just… A courtship that really didn’t turn out well. And I just… I could really use some time away to get my head back on straight. Eagle Pride’s office has mentioned wanting me to go over and collaborate with them for a while, and what better time than now?” Your laugh sounded bitter.
Kugo sat silent and stunned. He hadn’t known you were courting. Being courted? Honestly, he wasn’t even sure of your dynamic. If you weren’t beta, then you certainly hid your scent well. He cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly.
“I certainly won’t stop you if you truly wish to go. It is an excellent opportunity. Might be a step in having your own support company if you wish. And if not, you’re always welcome here, Y/n. You must know that.”
You give a small smile, finally looking him in the eye. His chest tightened when he saw tears there. “I know, Kugo. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’re a good friend for putting up with me.”
“There’s no putting up with. I enjoy your company, always.” Kugo reached out slowly, but you turned away and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. He frowned, placing his hand back in his lap. “And you sure you’re alright, Y/N? No one is threatening you, are they? Someone unsafe taken an interest in you?”
You snorted, “Nothing like that. And people think I’m the dramatic one. No. I just got rejected is all. I miscalculated. Thought they were interested, but they made it very clear they aren’t.”
“Then they’re an idiot.” The words escaped Kugo before he even realized what he was going to say. But it was true, he was sure. You were beautiful, kind, smart. Anyone would be beyond lucky to hold your interest. On the rare days he allowed himself to dream, he often thought he’d love to have someone like you as a mate. Someone who knew him well and cared for him as much as he cared for them. He felt pains in his chest and his eyes widened as realization hit him in the face like a wet mackerel. Oh. He was jealous. He was jealous of whoever it was that y/n had tried to court. And he was angry. Furious that some fool had rejected her. Hurt her. But he was glad she was still here. Yet she was going to leave. Going to leave him here alone. His thoughts swirled and tumbled, and he swayed slightly in his seat. And hand on his shoulder stilled him and he looked up into your concerned eyes.
“Hey, you’re not looking too good. You really should get to medical. Do you need me to help you?”
“No. No. I can make it down a few hallways, thank you though.”
Kugo stood, and tried to give back the cloth he had been pressing to his head. You pushed it back, gently scolding him. “I said leave it there until someone can look at it. If you insist on returning a silly old rag, you can wash it and give it back later.”
Kugo nodded and mumbled out a goodbye. He had a lot to think about as he slowly made his way to medical. So. He liked you. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed to him. He’d liked you for a while. Things were always easy with you. But now, you’re leaving. He couldn’t stop you, and wouldn’t even if he could. You clearly felt like you needed to go.
He was still ruminating on his thoughts as the doctor ushered him to a bed. He was poked and prodded. Kugo managed to mumble out what must have been coherent answers. In the end, he did end up needing a few stitches. And just like that, he found himself fixed up and back in his office. He snorted a laugh at the absurdity. How can a day like this somehow manage to be just another day? Kugo sat in his chair and twisted the cloth in his hands absently. He brought it to his nose and sniffed out of habit. Oh course, the scent of his own blood was the most dominant. But underneath that was the usual calming scent of omega. His shoulders relaxed as the tension ran out of him. He pulled that cloth away, idly looking at the pattern. It was cute. Floral. Reminded him of the cloth that the first bento had been…
Wait.
Wait.
He hastily brought the handkerchief to his nose again. There was no mistaking it. He knew that smell. He had missed that smell for weeks. It was faint. But it absolutely was there. Omega, soft and sweet. Not any omega. His omega. His bento maker. His y/n.
Y/n.
Y/n who had seen him toss her courting gift in the trash, who thought he had completely rejected her, and who was moving to America.
Kugo was on his feet in an instant. He’d never made the trip to the support lab that quickly before. You jumped when the door flew open, hitting so harshly that the doorknob dented the wall.
“Sakamata! What?”
He dropped to his knees before you, arms wrapped tight around your waist and his head pressing against your stomach.
“Kugo?” You asked softly, hesitantly stroking along his fin. “Kugo, what’s wrong?”
“You’re the best thing life has ever given me. Please don’t leave. Please.”
You made a soft, wounded sound. You kneeled slowly, and took his face in your hands. Kugo leaned into your touch like a man who had been starved of affection his whole life. You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks.
“Kugo, I’m going to need you to speak plainly, so I’m sure I don’t misunderstand. What’s going on?”
His large hands came up, taking both your hands in his.
“I’m an idiot.”
You snorted and tilted your head, confused. He met your gaze as he continued.
“I’m an idiot and I love you.”
You inhaled sharply, looking at him in disbelief. He pulled the crumpled, bloodstained handkerchief from his pocket.
“I’m an idiot because I love you and yet I never even noticed that you loved me too. You showed me every day. You knew I like eggs just as much as fish. You cared enough to make them cute. You gave me extra sweets on days when I was working a double shift. I loved every bento you made me. I have every note saved. And I might be an idiot, but I’d be an even bigger idiot if I let you go without saying something. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I love you and please don’t go.”
“Kugo.” You smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I already promised I’d go.”
Kugo inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes lowering to the floor.
“But,” you used your hands to lift his chin. His gaze snapped back to yours. “It’s just for six months. Six months, and then I’ll be right back here. With you.”
“With me?”
“Mmhmm.” You gave his nose a quick peck. “Always. You’re the best man I know. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world for me.”
Kugo groaned and pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. From here, although it was very faint, he could smell your soothing scent. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me I can’t have you here for six months!”
You chuckled as you hugged him close. “Well, we have two weeks before I leave. We have a little time. And once I’m back? We’ll have all the time in the world.”
“Even that won’t be enough time to spend with you.”
“Dork.”
He hummed his agreement. “But it’s true. Eternity would be enough time to spend with you.” Before you could protest, he pulled you in for a gentle, but determined kiss.
#gang orca#gang orca x reader#kugo x reader#kugo sakamata#kugo sakamata x reader#Alpha gang orca#Alpha kugo#omegaverse#bnha omegaverse#reader insert#bnha reader insert#female reader#omega reader#omegaverse reader insert#collab piece
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kamukomahina gender/body headcanons
a bit of a ramble about my body, gender, and general appearance headcanons for them bcuz someone sent me a curiouscat prompting this 3k words of hyperfixation nonsense
Komaeda:
- He has a naturally lithe body, with a thin waist, broad shoulders and hips, which give him an hourglass. and a rather andrognyous body, which is "lucky" for him, because I hc him as nonbinary and gender non-conforming
- Gender-wise, as I said, I think he's nonbinary. Usually I do view Nagito as AMAB but I indulge in transmasc Nagito from time to time depending on my preference and how much I wish to uh, well, project, lol. But either way I think he would use he/they pronouns in a western sense. In japanese, however, they don't use third person pronouns that other people refer to them with, and in canon he uses the first person pronoun "boku", which is a "soft" masculine pronoun, in comparison to the "hard" masculine pronoun, “ore” (which Hajime uses btw!) which fits quite nicely, in my opinion! Also, in Japanese, you can be 'fluid' with your first person pronouns depending on the situation, so I think he could use more neutral or feminine pronouns should he desire it, too, to play on his gender non-conformity.
- Komaeda is very secure in his gender, regardless of being AMAB or AFAB. He does not care about stigma, or discrimination, he does not care about being "accepted" by broader society. Broader society is sort of meaningless to him, the average person and their ideas about gender and presentation and effeminity mean NOTHING to him. Whether or not a random person the street genders him correctly or treats him with respect is sort of, pointless? Because to him, most ordinary people are pointless nobodies. Their thoughts do not matter to him. I think he is still prone to insecurity, however, when around his "betters" but I just struggle to think he would degrade himself in regards to gender. to him, it's the least of his problems. what he cares about is hope and talent. He could dress femininely or wear makeup or straight up crossdress and not mind it, really. He thinks people would find a problem with it are the problem, because why does it even matter? It speaks to the way Komaeda is detached from societal norms & "normal" people, he did not grow up in normal circumstances, so he doesn't interact with the world normally by any means. he can mask and act normally to the best of his ability, often unintentionally?, but he simply does not fit into broader society and doesn't seek to.
- Komaeda loses weight really easily, and doesn't gain weight that well. This is mainly due to his many illnesses but also the medications he's been put on. He has a low appetite and burns weight rather easily, even though I headcanon that he eats like garbage (mainly junk food & takeout, since he obviously cannot cook). This makes him overall, health wise, not very healthy, and stick thin because of it. A stiff breeze could knock him over, tbh.
- He has a lot of faded scars, self-inflicted or not.
- Pre-despair (in HPA) he is fairly healthy but still lithe, and progressively his body deteriorates through his 2 years of hopes peak before the Tragedy begins.
- During the Tragedy itself, his body is at it's worst. he is almost nothing but bone at times, barely kept together by a need to live so he can see hope triumph. His weight fluctuates but he's very unhealthy. He's not anorexic or on death's door, but he's not well off, either.
- After being put into the neo world program, right after waking up, he's very, very thin and gaunt. he was in a pod on feeding tubs for an indiscernible but at least probably a month's worth of time? So he's just very weak, like he could collapse if he moves too quickly.
- But a while after waking, he goes into remission, and starts to gain more healthy habits due to being rehabilitated and cared for by Hinata, and gains some weight, finally at a healthy, normal weight. I still think he would struggle with putting on too much weight, but I am slightly fond of the idea that he gets a bit of healthy pudge after a while. To him, it's so foreign being healthy, that he honestly think something's wrong with him at first.
Hinata:
- Hinata has a very... average body, true to form. His hips and waist aren't too pronounced but he has a loosely "hourglass" shape, too, just not as exaggerated as Komaeda's in comparison.
- Gender-wise, I am EXTREMELY fond of transmasc Hinata. While I think I portray AMAB Hinata more than transmasc Hinata (in art and writing), I still firmly prefer transmasc Hinata. The reason I think portray otherwise more is just out of comfortability, but I've been getting better at comfortably portraying FTM Hinata. I have some reasons I prefer it and think you can extrapolate it from canon, but let's get into that
- Hinata, in my eyes, has an arc and story that fits perfectly into him just. Being trans. His desire to be someone else, someone better, someone he can proud of, and the way he overcompensates for himself and has an extreme inferiority complex would easily lend to him having similar feelings about his gender. To me, Hinata is a trans man who overperforms his masculinity out of insecurity and a need to pass. I see him as someone who would strictly use "he/him" in a western sense, which is lended to by his use of the "ore" pronoun in canon, which is almost hypermasculine.
- Even if he were AMAB, I think it still works, I think he's still someone who's insecure and tries to assert himself more strongly and therefore performs masculinity in a way to appear more confident than he is.
(side note: I actually read a bit about queerness in Japan and how it relates to gender performance and the use of pronouns, and read a bit about how queer women in japan tend to use "boku" and "ore" to perform masculinity, which I find neat. “Ore” was also sometimes used exclusively to show anger and dominance, which is why it's categorized as a "rough" pronoun. I think Japanese language, gender, and expression, and how those all relate to one another, are extremely interesting and if you get the time you should read about it lol)
- Body-wise, pre-despair, I think Hinata would. not have top surgery, obviously. I think he has a fairly average but leaning a little on the hefty side chest (pre-op) and binds it, hence the '91 cm' (but also he still has 91 cm post-op because bazongas). I also just think he leans on the "twunk" side of things at this point, not buff but not stick thin or without muscle, just kind of average with average strength and all, though I think Hinata would've tried to do sports and stuff to find his talent so he's in shape :)
- My personal, kind of amusing, but also kind of... thematical? Headcanon, is that during the Kamukura project, he also underwent gender transition. to be honest, while it may not make sense in modern Japan, I think we can suspend our disbelief for fiction, and also make the argument that Hinata's "transition" into Kamukura CAN be read, in some part, as relatable or at least familiar to the trans experience. Iit is not out of the realm of possibility, either, to assume that because many bits of society in Danganronpa are advanced (specifically science, is extremely ahead of our understanding, almost sci-fi like at times) certain attitudes about gender and sexuality can be smoothed over more in a Japanese context.
(side note: I also think that science-wise, we can suspend our disbelief, and assume that top surgery and bottom surgery are much more advanced in this universe, given the almost unbelievable levels of science in Danganronpa, such as memory wipe, mind control, completely realistic virtual simulation, um literally everything about Kamukura which is body modification and brain modification to an extreme, etc. I think it's kind of fitting within these to assume that... Hinata/Kamukura could just, gain a functioning penis, lol)
Kamukura:
- Kamukura would have a. "Perfect" body. it's stated, I'm pretty sure, that they modified not only his brain but his body, because he needs to be able to perform every talent under their belt with ease, and his strength, instincts, technique, are all superhuman. So it's clear to me he'd have a buff body. toned muscles and all. He wouldn't really feel a need to keep it up, though, but I think since they're very... artificial (basically fucking steroids?) they wouldn't fade from a lack of keep-up.
- Kamukura also rarely ever is injured, but when he does, his body heals rather fast and can care for himself adequately, because again, his body is modified to a point of almost inhumanity.
- Gender wise, Kamukura genuinely does not care. however, I am not one to think that Kamukura is "a different person" from Hinata, rather, he is separate from Hinata, but an extension of Hinata as well, proven that he experiences some of his emotions even if subconsciously and without understanding them. he isn't a different personality or person developed in Hinata's body, but a very traumatizing, repressed, and manipulated version of Hinata given a new name, with memories repressed. He's like Theseus's ship in human form---if you get rid of everything that makes someone themselves and replace it, bit by bit, is it the same person? Technically, yes, but... truly? Who knows.
Because of this, I think Kamukura would have a leaning toward masculine gender performance (in canon, in fact, he uses the soft masculine pronoun "boku" in stead of "ore" like Hinata) BUT I think he is still very nonbinary. In a western sense, i think he would use he/they pronouns, but not really care if someone mistook him for a woman, I suppose.
- His appearance, unironically, is very nonbinary or "he/they" to me because he's wearing a suit, the archetypal form of masculinity, but has extremely long hair, which is considered feminine, and speaks softly (dully). Of course, the bishounen "pretty boy" appearance isn't uncommon or considered less masculine in japan, I think, but there is still a different between soft masculinity and rough masculinity in japan, which lends itself to being interpreted sort of gender non-conforming by western audiences :)
- Kamukura, due to his apathy, struggles with self-maintaining, but as we all probably know i am extremely attached to KamuKoma and thus headcanon that Servant helps him, sort of like a royal servant would royalty in the old days, take care of himself by bathing him, brushing his hair out, grooming him, etc. partially out of duty, partially out of appreciation for Kamukura's body, and partially out of maintaining his sort of "perfect" look since Kamukura, especially post-Junko death, is perceived widely by the public as the new leader of the ultimate despair, even if he is ambivalent to such a title.
Post-DR3 Hinata/Kamukura combined:
As I rambled on about previously, I don't think that Kamukura and Hinata are separate people or personality, I really dislike the interpretation that they are like a "split personality" or operate like DID, because they do not "form" like DID, but also in canon, are not portrayed as separate people.
In post-dr3, Hinata instead says that he is both of them, because he is. Kamukura is Hinata, always was, but had been given a new, false identity, had been stripped of his previous self, his memories, his personality, and crafted into something new. but that did not "split" his brain into two people. It simply repressed who he once was, and made him someone he now was. But when Kamukura regains his memories, his past self, through the means of the new world program by restoring his own memories after SDR2 concludes and he wakes up, as well as doing the same for everyone else, he decides to be "Hajime Hinata" who he always was, but carrying and shouldering the weight of what "Izuru Kamukura" had been, become, and done. Hinata *is* Kamukura, he answers for Kamukura's wrongdoings, his crimes, as something he had done as a different person who's mind operated differently, due to being artificially suppressed, modified, into an apathetic tool for the scientists who made him, and later and aimless, bored individual who simply sought meaning he did not have in the unknown of what despair would be at it's climax. And if hope could overcome it.
As such, I think, when Hinata's self is brought back into the mix, and he now deals with Kamukura's apathy and boredom in part, but much less consuming and much less often, I think hinata is less staunchly "masculine", does not overperform it anymore, and is trying to understand what his past means to him, what his present is, and what his future will be. I think that Hinata would still primarily use he/him (or still use "ore" in Japanese, as it's also a means of his personality, which is a bit rough around the edges and blunt), but be more ambivalent to rigid gender expression, still finding comfort and idealness in masculinity, but not be made dysphoric or feel frightened, uncomfortable, with non-comformity or anything like that. being boyish, masculine, is what he enjoys, but he's comfortable in it now, doesn't need to prove himself or overperform it. He can explore nonconformity without feeling like his gender or masculinity is at threat, even if it's not his preference outright.
Body-wise, I think it's safe to say he retains Kamukura's muscle and all, but Kamukura didn't put much effort into the everyday machinations of being a human being in general, and Hinata is much more fond of food than him now, eats more often, and I enjoy the idea that he gains a little pudge and has a kind of "dad bod" almost, post-DR3? lol.
Both for Hinata and Kamukura I don't see their bodies as “bara” or overly buff, masculine, but a kind of comfortable middle ground between twunk and hunk, lmao. I think they're also averagely hairy, not overly so, very lightly. kind of well groomed, and all. Hinata, pre-despair, put not so much effort into his appearance but still some, especially in trying to pass. (In fact I think his hair cut looks like a home job, all choppy and stuff, which fits him in my opinion, something done by his own hands even if messy and imperfect, he still prefers to be in control of it. also fits the trans headcanon tehe).
Izuru put very little if any effort into himself, only the bare minimum necessary to function, but servant helped him upkeep it to a perfect standard. Hinata, post-dr3 now, finds himself putting you know, an average amount of care into himself and his body, enough to be healthy, but not overly critical and conscious of himself.
Komaeda i have always seen as someone who takes a good deal of care about himself, merely if to alleviate the "disgust" of his appearance and body, by practically preening himself. He is someone who is good at cleaning and seems to appreciate clean and well kept spaces, so I think he would have a similar attitude toward himself. even if he is insecure, and of course, struggles with mental health and may slip at times in his routine in keeping himself well-kept, I think he still maintains an appearance for the most part, at least in his later years (teen to young adult). An argument can be made that he cared less in his adolescence because he had much more apathy about the world, but when he gave himself a purpose with hope and talent, I think he would care for himself a little better, even if his was spiralling mentally.
His hair is always washed, it is just very curly and prone to mess, so it often looks like perpetual bedhead, even when he combs and brushes it. His skin is soft even if a little worn by his tendency for accidents & injury, it's still soft and almost luckily so, and he takes pride in moisturizing and cleaning himself. His skin is a little sickly, still, and I think that despite having blemishes, scars, etc. Komaeda manages to look pretty in a strange way, not conventionally beautiful, but almost ethereal? He's just *pretty*, there's no way to explain it, he is nice to look at even with all his "flaws" and imperfections. Even when he's sickly and bony, even when his cheeks are gaunt or his hands shaky and weak, when his hair is a tangled mess or his clothes are dirty, he's nice to look at in a way that's nonconventional, and it's sort of mesmerizing.
Hinata I think is very average but also in a way that's nice to look at it. He's not ground-breaking hot or conventionally attractive, he has a good body, a nice face, and hair you could play with a little if you wanted. I think what's appealing about him is his normalcy, he's not trying too hard or "gifted" gene wise, but he's just kinda nice to look at, he's enjoyable to be around, an understanding person, or at least tries to be even when he fails, and despite having flaws, insecurities, blunt, he is someone you're drawn to because he's one of those people that's just, easy to talk to? An emotional anchor, almost. The kind of guy everyone kind of knows and has talked to at least once, even if you're not friends with him personally, not because he's cool or popular or anything, but because he's a normal dude who's easy to trust and talk to.
Kamukura, on the other hand, is intimidating, appearance wise and personality wise. he looks, strange, anything but normal, his eyes are red and his hair is this dark cloud that envelops him. His face may still be that plain one Hinata has but faces can be changed by the surrounding attributes as well as expression and such is true for him, with his apathetic and cold expression as well as otherwordly characteristics, he comes off as much more beautiful in a dark way, kind of? In a way that's intimidating or a little daunting, but he's still very beautiful. mesmerizing.
okay, thats my ramble. ty.
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Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)
Spotify Playlist (collaborative)
Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.
Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)
Word count: 3,715
(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!
So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.
“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.
You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.
“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.
“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”
“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.
His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.
“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”
“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”
“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.
You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”
As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.
It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.
Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?
“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.
You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”
“We can go with you-”
“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”
Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”
Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).
Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”
You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”
He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.
Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.
Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?
You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.
Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.
As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.
Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.
The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.
She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.
Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.
“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.
You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”
Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”
Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.
You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.
Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”
“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”
You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”
“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”
She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.
“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”
A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”
Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?
Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.
Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.
She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.
“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”
“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”
You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”
“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”
“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.
“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.
“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”
“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”
You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”
“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.
Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.
“Where are you going?!”
“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”
She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.
She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”
“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”
She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.
She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.
“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.
The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.
“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”
“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”
“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”
“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.
“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.
“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”
You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”
She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.
The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.
As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”
Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.
“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”
“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”
He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”
Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”
You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.
You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.
You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”
So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.
“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”
“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.
“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”
“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.
“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.
“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”
“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”
You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.
However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met.
It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.
“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.
You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”
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Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):
#philza x reader#technoblade x reader#mcyt x reader#dream smp x reader#destiny written in begonias#female reader#x reader#wlw reader#tw: swearing#tw: violence
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