#and its still not great but it gets the point across i guess

[mightbeamonster-blog]

I wanna take a second with this to delve into one of my obsessions and break down the origins of the idea of "seperating the art from the artist", and why I think people severely misuse it as a justification for their support of incredibly shitty people.

The earliest references to this idea of seperating art from artist (that I have encountered; if someone knows an earlier one please correct me!) come from an essay by William Wimsatt and Monroe Beardsley titled The Intentional Fallacy. A work of formalist criticism, The Intentional Fallacy rails against the focus on authorial intent that dominated critical discussion of text in the mid 1900s, with Wimsatt and Beardsley stating right up front in the first paragraph that "We [argue] that the design or intention of the author is neither available nor desirable as a standard for judging the success of a work of literary art." They certainly didn't beat around the bush. The essay goes on to detail their reasoning, but to be honest I don't see that as being all that important here (though the essay has some interesting ideas and I'll include a pdf of it that I got off the UPenn website here if you want to read it!); more interesting to me is the way that this opposition to authorial intent has been totally warped since.

What I think is really important to focus on here is their word "intention." By saying we should ignore intention, W&B aren't saying that it's okay for us to consume the output of garbage people, and if you asked them if that was what they meant then they probably would have looked at you like you had two heads because yeah. Instead, W&B mean that authorial intent is an inappropriate means with which to create arguments about a work of literature, because they saw works of art as self-contained devices that must work on their own merit, like (and these are the actual examples they give) Artifacts (which I take to mean machines) or Pudding.

While this might look like I'm disagreeing with Fanonical, or that this idea of disregarding intention runs contrary to Fanonical's point, I actually think it really doesn't. First, as time has gone on criticism has long since moved past its whole "obsession with objectivity" phase, and just because these two dudes said it like 60 years ago doesn't make it gospel truth. It's okay, we're allowed to have opinions again. Anyways, second, W&B's point is that we should ignore authorial intent for our purposes of criticism, NOT that we should ignore what's in the damn text itself. What we can extrapolate from that is if the text has antisemitic caricatures in it, then we can just stop right there and say that the text itself is antisemitic. We don't have to care if That Bitch intended transphobia in her descriptions of Skeeter, we can just say "this text is antisemitic/transphobic/racist/classicist" - which if anything further distances the origins of seperating the art from the artist from the way in which people use it now.

I don't know where I was going with this anymore. I guess what I'm trying to say is that from its very inception, even before Barthes and his Death of the Author thing, Seperating Art From Artist has NEVER been an excuse to be uncritical in our consumption of art; if anything, it was spawned from a desire for people to be more critical of the texts they were reading, or at least to be critical through a different lens.

For those interested in reading the W&B's essay themselves: https://www.sas.upenn.edu/~cavitch/pdf-library/WimsattBeardsley_Intentional.pdf

hey do you think you could expand a bit on separating the art from the artist? clearly you’ve done it with jk rowling but what are your thoughts on it as a general idea?

okay, but you’re not going to like the answer.

here’s the truth: you can’t separate the art from the artist. not entirely. HP Lovecraft was an incredibly talented, but much more incredibly racist man. It would nice to say you don’t agree with his views but you can enjoy his works without that leaking in but…. well, I’m afraid that would be misunderstanding his books entirely.

Consider, for a second, that Lovecraft’s works were horror stories about extradimensional alien monsters having mutant children with humans, they were about invasions from distant monsters, they were about the purity of quaint European towns being tainted. Consider how this may have all been inflicted by the fact that he just simply despised anybody who wasn’t white. Consider how is opinions on “mixing the races” might fight into this; consider why being unable to maintain the “purity” of white Europe was the scariest thing of all to him.

This extends to Rowling too.

I would love to say we can just acknowledge that she is an awful, racist, antisemitic, transphobic person and then say “but at least her books are good,” because, well, they are, aren’t they? I would say so, for sure. But to suggest that one can separate her from them is…. ridiculous.

Consider why an antisemitic woman wrote about a species of goblins who live among us, but who for the most part keep to themselvesand are maybe a little bit oppressed by the institution, but also hold all the cards, all the money, run the banks.

Consider why a racist woman would write about a species of slaves who loved being enslaved, who enjoyed working for no pay, and cleaning up after humans, with the only small caveat of that they didn’t want to be beaten. Imagine that only the most radical of their species wanted to be free, and he still spent the rest of his life working for no pay and helping out a little white boy and his friends wherever he could. Consider why the only person in the story who thought they should be free, that they should have rights, was treated as an overzealous joke, who was acting against the wishes of those slaves who really LOVE being enslaved. Consider that Rowling went on to say that she kind of considers that girl to be black, now.

Consider why JK Rowling, an open and proud transphobe, wrote Rita Skeeter as having a large square jaw, thick “manly” hands, and dressing incredibly gaudily with the most obvious fake nails and fake teeth and fake hair and fake everything. Consider why a woman who tweets about how trans women are “foxes pretending to be hens to get in the hen house” might write this Rita Skeeter to then illegally transform her body in order to spy on children.

Harry Potter is full of Rowling’s bigotry, start to finish. Not even tangentially, like, “oh the goblins are bad, Rita Skeeter is bad, the house elves are bad, but most of it’s good!” because the deeper you dig and the longer you think the more you realise the entire story is based on her prejudices.

Harry Potter pretends to be an aracial story about found family, but if that were true, why are Harry’s distant ancestors important to who he is today even in the seventh book? Why does Harry have to live with his cousin and aunt and uncle? Because magic inherently prefers blood ties. Whilst Rowling was writing a story that seemed to say, “your heritage is not that important and doesn’t make you better than others” she was still writing a story about a boy who got all of his money through his bloodline, who was protected by living with his bloodline, no matter how evil, who was uniquely able to stop Voldemort because his bloodline passed down the invisibility cloak for generations and generations. Any step Harry takes he is compared to his perfect parents who were exactly like him — he looks just like his father, but he has his mother’s eyes, you know! — consider WHY a woman who is racist might’ve written a story like this. A story that on its surface, condemns a blood caste, but still in every step it takes, validates the idea that blood is thicker than water, and your geneological origin is what makes you special.

You can enjoy Harry Pottwr, of course you can. There are fantastic parts. I love a small group of teenagers deciding to become anarchies rebels and train to fight against fascism in secret. I love the murder mystery plots, I love how the series tells kids that it’s a good thing to be brave, and a good thing to fight injustice, and a good thing to challenge the government. But I cannot separate it from its author because it is such a product of its author. All of the structures of the world, the way things work in the universe, and drenched in Rowling’s beliefs, her bigotries. Of course they are: she made them.

Again. This doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy it. But I think we are past the day where we can pretend that disavowing a bigoted author is enough, and that that somehow separates the text from its bigotry. I think we are past the day where we can pretend that Harry Potter isn’t a deeply, inherently bigoted piece of media. Even the bits we love. I think we are beyond the day where we can truthfully pretend to separate it from her, because she is present through all of it. We MUST recognise its flaws. We MUST admit that she is in every part of it.

[scarletmika]

The White Witch pt. 1 : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Avenger!Witch!Reader

Summary: Bob knew who the Avengers were, who you were; he grew up watching them save the world time and time again. Now, he was one, but none of that could prepare him for what it would be like to meet you, or the instant connection that seemed to flow between you both.

Warnings: soulmate trope, fluff, little bit of mental illness talk, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, feminine description of reader, this is only part one

Word Count: 2,377 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

Earth’s Mighiest Heroes - The Exhibition

Designed by the government with input from former SHIELD employees, and housed in New York at the Museum of the City of New York, this special exhibition shed light on the endless battles that The Avengers had faced since the moment of their conception, commemorating all they did to protect the world. Still 2 months out from opening, the museum had personally invited Bucky Barnes to tour the exhibition and provide any input on changes that needed to be made before opening.

That, in turn, meant a field trip for the Thunderbolts, or as they were now known, The New Avengers.

“Look at the battles in which this great team of heroes fought, the glory they achieved!” there were sighs through the entire group as Alexei’s yell reverberated through the entire exhibition. His arms were thrown wide, pointing up to a large photo hung on the wall to their right. “Look! A moment captured here in this great city as Captain America fends off the strange, weird little aliens from space-”

“Yes, Alexei, there are photos like that everywhere,” Yelena was exasperated as she threw her arms out, gesturing around the room. “That’s the point of the exhibition.”

“THIS is what we can become! The heroes, celebrated in museums, toys lining the shelves of stores around the world…”

Bob found himself further away from the group, silently looking at the photos and artifacts from these battles sitting throughout the room. Bucky was off to the side, speaking with some of the museum curators, and caught his eye for a moment. There was a silent question in the super soldier’s glance, checking that Bob was okay, and he gave his friend a quick nod before focusing back on everything before him.

These moments seemed so far away when he was growing up, things he only ever saw on television before his father had turned it off, shouting something political he didn’t understand. Or in headlines across newspapers littering the dining room table. Now they were directly before him. Worse than that, Bob was part of the team meant to replace the ones who came before, the heroes who had saved the world countless times, and he’d never felt like more of an impostor than in that moment.

He stood in front of the wall that commemorated Sokovia, the city that had found its way into the crossfire of a fight against Ultron. Bob remembered some of the details of the fight, specifically the robot created by the late Tony Stark that went rogue, but it had occurred during a particularly drug-use-heavy period in his life.

There were photos of every moment of the battle, it seemed, collected from eyewitnesses who were on the ground. The city on fire, the God of Thunder, Thor, and Captain America, ushering civilians onto the SHIELD ships to get them off the crumbling, floating city. Iron Man destroying one of Ultron’s bots in the middle of the air, more flying in behind him. Bob’s eyes caught on one photo, in the middle of the wall, of who he knew was called the Scarlet Witch now, Wanda Maximoff, fending off a group of incoming Ultron bots as streaks of her red magic enveloped them. Beside Wanda was you, a woman that had been just about his age at the time, holding tight to a child as a wall of white magic formed a wall between you and the bots coming after you both.

“It’s weird looking back on this all, isn’t it? Feels like another life,”

“K-Kind of,” Bob was still entranced by the photos, never looking over toward the voice now speaking beside him as he answered, pointing at the photos. “I’m uh, not really used to this type of thing. These guys…t-they’re heroes.”

“To the world. To them, they were just people with the power to help and felt obligated to,”

“I-I always thought of them as heroes,” Bob smiled to himself, pointing directly to the photo of you and Wanda that day in Sokovia. “I always liked them, their powers are cool. I-If I could have magic, I would. Can barely control m-my own powers, though, so maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea…”

“Take it from me, magic isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though I’m curious what it is that you can do,”

Bob chose then to finally look over to the voice speaking to him, and his jaw went slack immediately. You weren’t the young woman you’d been in those photos on the wall, grown up now just as he had, but you looked just the same. You didn’t stand next to him in that same white and grey suit that you donned in so many of the photos in the room, instead dressed down like a civilian, but the tiny smirk on your face as your eyes glanced over him had his cheeks flushing.

“...I-I just made a fool of myself uh, didn’t I?”

You laughed at that, and Bob’s heart fluttered almost instantly. Pretty, that was the only word he could use to describe you as you stood next to him. 

“You didn’t, it was kind of cute,” you shot back with a tiny wink in his direction. “I’d introduce myself, but it seems you already know who I am.”

“The White Witch,” Bob said immediately, nodding his head feverishly. “Yeah, I uh, I know who you are. I-I’m Bob.”

You smiled at him, holding out your hand. Bob quickly took it in his, and his breath hitched the second his skin touched yours in even the slightest. 

He didn’t know how to describe it, the way the colors of the room seemed to get a little brighter from just that simple touch. The way his anxieties, always on high alert, seemed to be soothed by this blanket of just pure calm. He didn’t miss the way your head tilted to the side, curious and a flicker of white magic dancing past your irises for a moment, as your hands finally pulled apart after a beat of silence.

“Just Bob?”

“Technically uh, Robert Reynolds. B-But yeah…just Bob,”

“Bob with powers?”

“Uh, sometimes,” he’d laughed awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Can’t really control it. R-Remember that thing…in New York a few months ago, the…the ‘void’ thing? Yeah…that uh, that was me- kind of, in a way.”

Bob was mentally cursing himself for the word vomit that seemed to be flowing from him, but he somehow just couldn’t stop his mouth from talking the second he started to. Now, he waited with bated breath for you to give him that same look of pity that the others did at times, to pull away from him with a flicker of terror in your features at the thought of what he’d done.

You didn’t, though. All you did was shrug at him, a smile still on your lips.

“My best friend accidentally enslaved an entire town in a hex while, at the same time, I was living in my own hex out of grief in the middle of the mountains where my entire former team was still alive,” Bob stared at you as you dumped the information on him while you laughed lightly at yourself. “So…we’ve all got our shit. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Bob blinked for a second, just looking at you.

“S-Sounds like we both need medication,”

Once again, you’d laughed, and the weight that was sitting on Bob’s shoulders dissipated almost immediately. He’d just met you, and somehow being around you, hearing your laugh, seeing you smile…the way that Yelena had described ‘making the darkness feel lighter’ truly made sense finally.

“You’re funny, Robert Reynolds. Even if you’re a little awkward around the edges,” you teased him, getting a tiny laugh elicited out of him this time.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all, you remind me of someone I used to know,” that smile on your face seemed to grow reminiscent, eyes seeming far away as if stuck in a fond memory. “I miss him a lot.”

Bob watched you for a moment. It was almost as if he could feel that hint of sadness in you, feel the emotions radiating off of you in that moment.

“I’m sorry. D-Did you…lose him?”

“Kind of. No one remembers him, but I do,” it was a vague answer, but Bob didn’t want to push his luck. He could feel it, the shift from sadness into fondness in you, and it had him tilting his head. Bob was never great at reading other people, so why were you so easy for him to read?

Something similar must’ve been flowing through you as you mirrored him, tilting your own head as you examined him, trying to find an answer yourself.

“Well…this is a surprise,”

Both you and Bob turned, Bucky now standing just a few feet away with an easy smile on his face, something Bob really hadn’t seen from him before. He was starting to believe that you had a way of just calming everyone around you, but that feel of your hand in his still had his head reeling. Your smile brightened as you looked at Bucky, stepping up to tug the super soldier into a hug.

“Looking good for a hundred-year-old man, Buck,” you joked, clapping him on the shoulder as you pulled back. Bucky laughed, yet another foreign sound to the team, and it quickly drew the attention of the rest of the New Avengers.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you, not since the Karli incident,” Bucky commented back as the rest of the team gathered around. His smile dropped momentarily. “How’s…how’s Sam?”

“Nope, I’m not getting in the middle of this lovers’ spat,” you shook your head, and Bucky relaxed slightly with a small laugh.

“Fair enough. How long are you in town for?”

“Until the exhibition opening in two months, or until Joaquin calls to say that life without me around is boring,” Yelena chuckled the loudest at that comment as you looked around at everyone else who had suddenly appeared. “Well…you all must be The New Avengers. Nice to finally meet you, Yelena. Nat talked about you a lot.”

Yelena gave you a warm smile at that, and Ava was quick to introduce herself afterward. Alexei made a show of shaking your hand for entirely too long, droning on and on about your accomplishments, something that made you laugh once more. Your gaze flickered over to John, your smile seeming to tighten a little when you looked at him.

“Nice to see you, witchy,” John commented, bouncing between his two feet for a moment as if anxious to be around you.

“Walker,” you only gave him a curt nod in response, animosity still clearly lingering in the air between you both as Bucky stepped between you to cut off the glaring eye contact. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you all. When they asked me to come in and give the exhibition a look, I was hoping I’d get to meet you guys.”

“And?” Alexei chimed in, gesturing down at himself and the Red Guardian suit that he insisted on wearing to this walkthrough, even though the rest of the team dressed casually. Yelena muttered something to herself in Russian under her breath at his actions. “Are you impressed by this powerful, heroic team we have built, young Avenger?”

Your eyes flicked to Bob, who hadn’t been able to look away from you since the moment he’d touched your hand. Another smile crawled across your lips as you locked eyes, his cheeks flaring bright red.

“Yeah, I’d say I’m impressed,”

“Well, if you’re going to be in town for a while,” Yelena cut in, not picking up on the lingering glances between Bob and you. “Think we could talk about this copyright lawsuit Wilson filed.”

“Now that I did plan to hopefully speak to you all about,” you turned, following Yelena back toward the entrance of the exhibition as Alexei and Ava quickly followed after you both. “Plus, I have been dying to see what De Fontaine has done with my old home.”

Bob’s eyes followed you the entire way, heat flaring in his cheeks again as you glanced back at him from afar, that grin still on your lips.

He was broken out of his moment by John’s hand clamping down on his shoulder with a squeeze. He glanced at the soldier, whose smirk stretched wide, and then back to Bucky, whose lips were quirked up in the smallest of smirks as well.

“Looks like Bobby boy here has a crush!”

Bob groaned, rubbing his hands over his face with a shake of his head.

“Walker, p-please-”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s got a point,” Bucky joined in, nodding his head toward the doorway where you’d just disappeared out of. “She’s always been friendly, but she seems to have taken to you pretty fast.”

“She was just being nice-”

“Ah, yes, because ‘nice’ always means lingering glances and little smiles,” John continued to tease, walking backward toward the door the rest of the team had just disappeared out of as he pointed back at Bob. “Maybe I’ll captain this ship, I’m sure I can give you a few pointers on how to bag a woman.”

“Yeah, because that went so well for you, Walker,”

Bob couldn’t help the nervous laugh he let out as Walker flipped off Bucky, disappearing through the doorway of the exhibition. Bob’s gaze turned back to Bucky, who was just looking at him expectantly.

“She’s…she’s really pretty. And nice, and when uh…when she shook my hand i-it was like…I don’t know, it was like we were connected. I’m not uh, I’m not good with people. It’s like I could feel her-”

“She was also practically Steve’s little sister and is one of the strongest beings on this earth,” Bucky told him with a pointed look as they fell into step beside one another. Bob let out another sigh.

“T-This is going to be a long two months, isn’t it?”

“If you fall in love, Bob, just tell her, please. I don’t need to live through another Steve and Peggy situation. I’m too old for this shit,”

[tgcg]

an open fly walking

i didnt like this one but i thought id finally air it out since its been sat in my folders for months now

TG: hey karkat

CG: YEAH?

===

TG: you ever noticed you like

TG: walk weird

CG: WOW, OKAY.

CG: HAVE *YOU* EVER NOTICED THAT I DON'T GIVE A SHIT?

TG: pff

===

TG: no listen because i got my ears scoping that shit im like a scouter for dude activity

TG: ok maybe me mentioning it to you is gonna fuck up your ecosystem or something but

TG: you have the heaviest feet of the century man

CG: I DO???

TG: just thrust them straight down into the ground like youre trying to homebrew a san andreas fault

TG: viciously tamping on tectonic plates hoping for top score on the richter scale

TG: waging war against solid particles and the basic flow of gravity

TG: i could ID those footfalls out of a million i mean it

CG: SERIOUSLY?

===

TG: i mean theres nothing wrong with it but

TG: yeah

CG: I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW.

TG: im not fucking with you striders honor

TG: when have i ever lied to anybody about anything

CG: NOT UNPACKING THAT QUESTION WITH YOU TODAY.

CG: BUT SHIT, HOLD ON. LET ME SEE.

TG: yeah take the umbrella go over there and just walk to me

CG: ON IT.

===

===

TG: see you just kinda slam em straight down dude

CG: THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY RIOTOUS FUCKING JOKE OF A LIFE.

TG: dont your feet ache

===

CG: MOOT POINT. THIS MIGHT SOUND INSANE BUT I'VE ACTUALLY HAD MY STRUT PODS FOR A WHILE. ANY KIND OF PAIN THIS WOULD'VE BEEN CAUSING WOULD BE TOTALLY FILTERED OUT OF MY SPONGE BY NOW AS BACKGROUND NOISE.

TG: damn i didnt think that through

TG: my shades

CG: ALRIGHT, GET BACK UNDER THE SHITTING UMBRELLA AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME.

TG: look ive fucked myself over here too i dont have shit to clean these with

TG: ugh

===

TG: guess its karma

CG: HOLY FUCK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

TG: i dunno but im gonna assume having a dad thats a literal crab monster is probably a contributing factor

TG: im guessing thats not a great role model for this kinda thing

TG: just conjecture i mean

CG: YOUR ENVY IS OVERWHELMINGLY OBVIOUS DAVE. AS A DISCLAIMER, HE WOULD'VE ABSOLUTELY KICKED YOUR ASS.

TG: yeah probably

CG: THAT'S PRETTY MUCH ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER.

===

TG: but see bro had me stringent on feather feets

TG: i bet i could slip across a bike horn warehouse with nary a fucking toot

CG: HAHA. ASSUMING YOU DON'T MAKE A TOTAL ASS OF YOURSELF, AS PER USUAL.

CG: IF YOU WEREN'T CONSTANTLY RUNNING YOUR GASH ABOUT EVERYTHING AND BEING AN INIMITABLE CLOWN I SERIOUSLY THINK YOU COULD BE ON PAR WITH YOUR CUSTODIAN.

CG: THAT IS A MONUMENTAL "IF".

TG: well look at it this way

TG: im basically doing you all a favor by being a dumbass

TG: never gonna get caught off guard by the bozo patrol

CG: WOW. GOOD POINT.

===

TG: also screw this can i use your shirt

TG: this stupid hoodie is just smudging my lenses up

TG: i cant see dick

CG: UH

CG: SURE, I GUESS.

TG: cool

===

TG: so yeah i could be prowling around like a goddamn verbal assassin sniping convos left and right

TG: but no ive got the decency to go bunp in the night

CG: YEAH.

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY COMPOUNDED BY THE CONSTANT INANE RAMBLINGS.

CG: BUT

CG: IT'S ACTUALLY PRETTY RELAXING, Y'KNOW? IT HAS ITS OWN RHYTHM.

TG: see yeah i sound it off and

===

TG: wait really?

CG: YEAH

CG: I DON'T KNOW

CG: FUCK. HOW DO I EXPLAIN THIS WITHOUT WANTING TO CRAM MY FROND DOWN MY PROTEIN CHUTE.

===

CG: IT'S LIKE

CG: A SALVE FOR MY AGGRAVATION SPONGE.

CG: YOUR VOICE IS THE HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF ASPIRIN.

TG: uh damn karkat hold your hoofbeasts i was talking about the rhythm thing

CG: ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M TAKING US BOTH THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE REACHED THE BAD END OF THIS CONVERSATION.

TG: you think thatd be heroic or just

CG: IF I WAS STILL GHOSTING AROUND THE RUINS OF SGRUB'S ARCANE FRIGGIN GAME SYSTEMS, THE COMPLETE LACK OF SHIT AFOOT NOWADAYS WOULD BORE ME TO DEATH.

CG: LIKE. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME OUR THERMAL HULL LEVELLED UP, DAVE?

TG: hah

===

TG: but uh

TG: i mean we had aspirin on earth

CG: NO, NUMBNUBS.

CG: I'M SAYING YOU ARE MY ASPIRIN.

TG: oh

CG: YEAH, TAKE THAT TO THE BANK AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR 20-KARAT ASS.

===

TG: heh

TG: well get this

TG: i will literally talk at you forever for free

TG: you got lifetime priority seating for the davealogues

TG: never gotta go to the drugstore again you can just get doped up on my dulcet tones for the rest of time

TG: take that and some of this

TG: im packin punches

CG: OW, FUCK! NO! MY MIGRAINES!

CG: SWEEPS OF VEINCLOTTING AND NERVEFRAYING DOWN THE FUCKING GAPER. BECAUSE OF YOU.

CG: YOU ASSHOLE, THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

CG: AND YOU'RE LAUGHING.

TG: chuckle up it only gets worse from here

===

CG: BE HONEST WITH ME. DID FONDLING MY SHIRT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET EVEN DO ANYTHING?

TG: barely but yknow sometimes you just gotta deal the cards youre given

TG: ill just be astigmatic for a while its cool

CG: PFF… OKAY MAN.

[lastofdanny]

crossfire // manny alvarez x reader

summary: you're from jackson. he's a part of the wlf. everything about it was wrong, but an undeniable attraction keeps pulling both of you into a territory far more dangerous than everything you'd ever faced.

a/n: first of all tysm for all the love for under your skin pt 1 and 2 ♡ and YES another enemies to lovers with manny because i'm obsessed. of course none of those things from tlou happen in this scenario so let's just stick with this cutie version of manny. this is a one shot so its kinda long and english is not my first language !! hope u all enjoy it ♡

The first time you met Manny Alvarez, he had a gun pointed at your head. 

And he was smiling.

His dark eyes locked onto yours as if he could see straight through you, his tan skin under the dim light, contrasting with the wild curls that fell over his forehead.

“You’re way too pretty for someone who’s about to die,” he murmured, voice rich with mock sympathy. “What a shame.”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your heart raced, and the rush of heat that had nothing to do with fear.

With a soft chuckle, he lowered the gun, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did.

“Lucky for you, I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his grin widening. 

Then, with a wink, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, caught somewhere between relief and something far more dangerous.

─────────────────────────

The second time, there was no hesitation.

You spotted him across the street as the WLF and Jackson’s forces clashed. The dust and smoke made the air hard to breathe, but your focus was on one thing: him, his dark curls damp with sweat, rifle slung while his dark eyes scanned the chaos. 

In one fluid motion, you darted forward, knife slicing his forehead as he quickly jerked back, blood starting to rush down all over his face. 

“Guess letting you live wasn’t such a great idea,” he teased, swiping the blood away, his eyes still sparkling.

The smirk was back within seconds.

"Not bad, mi reina," he called out, his voice carrying through the chaos, full of mocking admiration. “But you’re gonna need more than that to take me down.”

─────────────────────────

Months later, you’d been guarding the outskirts of Jackson, keeping an eye out when you saw Manny behind an old rusted car.

“Well, well,” he said, a slow, teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I was wondering when I’d see you again. Been thinking a lot about you lately.” 

“Sure you want to finish that sentence?”

“It’s hard not to, you know,” he reached up, fingers lightly brushing over the scar you’d left on his face, his touch lingering as if he was savoring the memory. “Guess I’ll always have a piece of you with me now.”

You couldn’t help but notice how the scar had settled into his skin, and hated to admit it kind of made him look even more attractive –more tempting, even.

You tightened your grip on your rifle, aiming at him.

“You’re trespassing."

Manny ignored your words as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s such a shame we’re on opposite sides. We could have a lot of fun together, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you should let me in,” he said, the familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You’re not as clever as you think,” you said, and in one fluid motion, you fired a shot just past his ear, the crack of the bullet cutting through the tense air.  “Now get back. I won’t warn you again.”

Manny took another step back, his eyes gleaming with mischief, clearly enjoying the game. “I’m not the enemy you think I am, you know. But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just become one.” 

You narrowed your eyes, tightening your grip on the rifle. “Keep dreaming.”

“That a threat or you trying to seduce me?” he teased. “Either way, it’s working.”

His lips curled into a grin again, and without another word, he winked and disappeared into the shadows.

─────────────────────────

From that moment forward, the encounters became more frequent. Manny kept showing up no matter where you were, always with that smirk and those irritatingly charming words. And day after day, the attraction between you both grew. 

One day, his figure emerged from behind a crumbling wall and his eyes locked onto yours almost immediately. He was alone, no WLF backup, and he simply stood there, studying you like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?” You couldn’t hide the frustration in your voice, though part of you knew, deep down, it wasn’t really what was getting to you.

Manny’s lips quivered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’m just trying to get your attention.”

“You’ve got it. Now leave.”

There was no hiding it now. The tension between you two had grown to something impossible to ignore, and you weren’t sure if it was the way he always flirted with you, or how his presence seemed to make your skin tingle, but you knew it was becoming harder to pretend you didn’t feel it.

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be the enemy, you’re kind of hard to resist,”  Manny said, taking another slow step toward you.

You pointed your gun at him. “Easy,” he said, grinning. “Just want to talk.”

“You sure? Might be your last conversation.”

He should’ve been pissed. Should have raised his own weapon. But he only laughed instead.

“You ever relax?”

“You ever shut up?”

“I could. If you kissed me.”

────────────────────────

You knew it was wrong to let him take up space in your mind. But every time Manny came across with that cocky grin and some ridiculous flirtation, you cracked a little more.

You’d found yourself thinking about him way too much, remembering the moments when his dark eyes sparkled with mischief, the way he moved just a little too close, as if he already knew exactly what his presence did to you. 

He was the enemy, and yet your patrols started drifting closer to the places you knew he’d be. You told yourself that keeping eyes on him was necessary, but the truth sat heavier each day: you weren't just looking for him anymore – you were hoping to see him, and started to feel disappointed when you didn’t.

You knew he was trouble, dangerous even, and that it was wrong to want him, to crave his attention. But every time you replayed the sound of his voice, low and teasing, or remembered the way his gaze lingered just long enough to leave you breathless, something twisted inside you.

You weren’t looking for him the next time you met, but still found him on a construction site, blood crusted at his temple, dragging a broken rifle and muttering in Spanish. You should have left him, but something pulled you forward.

Again.

“You look like shit,” you said, stepping into the open, gun aimed at him.

He turned toward your voice, too slow, too tired. And then he grinned.

“Well, well” Manny leaned like he had all the time in the world. “Didn’t think you’d miss me that much to come all the way here."

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t draw your gun. Not yet. “Why are you out here alone?”

He stepped forward, hands half-raised in a mock surrender.

“Scavenging. Or maybe just hoping I’d run into you.”

You didn't answer, and he stared at your gun.

“You gonna finish the job this time, cariño, or just keep admiring the view?”

“You’re lucky I haven’t ended this yet.”

“Well, you never do,” he says, smiling wider. “What does that say?”

“That I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“Or maybe,” he says, taking a slow step toward you, “You’re starting to see what I’ve seen this whole time.”

You didn’t answer. Because part of you already knew. You just didn’t want to face it.

─────────────────────────

Manny stepped out of the shadows again a month later, calm and cocky as ever, gun rested loosely in his hand, now more like an accessory than a threat.

You caught his movement and your rifle was up in an instant, aimed dead at his chest.

“Are you following me now, Alvarez?” you snapped, stepping into the open with your finger brushing the trigger. 

He stopped, hands out to his sides in a lazy show of innocence, the familiar smirk already in his face. “Well, you do make it hard to stay away.”

“Don’t you think it’s funny that I had plenty of chances to kill you, and never did?”

“I had the same chances,” you said. “You’re not special.”

Manny laughed, closing the distance between them with a few easy steps. 

“But I know why I haven’t pulled the trigger," He stopped just a breath away, his eyes locked onto yours, the smirk fading into something quieter. “What’s your excuse? What’s stopping you, cariño?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, not when he was looking at you like he already knew everything.

He leaned in slowly until his lips hovered just a breath away from yours. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, barely there. Then he paused, lips twitching into a crooked smile.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You knew exactly what he meant, but still couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. You were from Jackson. He was from the WLF. Everything about you two was wrong – everything about it was dangerous.

You stepped back, trying to maintain the distance between you, but Manny was quick. In one fluid motion, he was right back in front of you.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,"

“You’re a terrible liar,” he whispered, his breath warm against your face. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

Your pulse quickened as his lips hovered near yours, his words sending a wave of heat through your body. The world around you seemed to disappear, and the WLF, Jackson, the fight – it all faded into the background.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

You didn’t.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, like both of you had been waiting for it far too long. Manny’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you blinked, trying to clear your mind. What had you just done?

─────────────────────────

You didn’t see Manny for a while after that kiss, as you started avoiding the routes he used to show up and skipping outposts you knew he might be near. He was WLF, after all, and no matter how much that kiss haunted you, getting close again felt like crossing a line you couldn’t afford. 

But then you started finding the notes.

A bottle by the barn: “Miss me yet?” 

A note under a bike tire: “Bet you can’t stop thinking about it.”

And another one between the gate you used to patrol: “Can’t keep running forever, cariño."

Each one, signed only with an M, sent your heart into a familiar spin.

You were doing your best to brush them off, but then you found one that was impossible to ignore, a torn piece of a map with a red “X”:

“Midnight. I’ll be waiting.”

Still, curiosity, and something else you weren’t ready to name, got the better of you.

The place was far from the patrol routes. An isolated cabin you’d only ever hear whispers about – a risky spot, but you trusted him. Mostly. 

He was already there when you arrived, leaning casually against the weathered porch when he saw you.

“Well, well,” Manny drawled, hopping down. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“You’ve been annoying me with those stupid messages for days. When are you going to stop?” you asked, crossing your arms. 

“Ouch. Didn’t like my love letters?”

“That’s what you call stalking now?”

“I prefer the term dedicated admirer.”

“What do you want, Manny?”

“Too see you," Manny smirked, stepping closer. “But I wasn’t sure you’d actually come, since you’ve been avoiding me lately and well, you do have a lot of reasons to stay away from me.”

“So do you,"

"You’re right," he said quietly, his voice taking on a seriousness you hadn’t heard before. “We both have reasons to stay away. But we can’t. And we don’t have to.”

“Don’t start, Manny. You know this can’t happen again.”

He stepped closer. “Why not? I mean, you sneaked out in the middle of the night just to see me," He paused, then added, voice low, teasing, “That’s something, right?”

You shoved him lightly, but didn’t step back when he caught you again.

“And you know what else I’ve figured out?” he asked, leaning in. “Every time I’m around, you act like it’s an accident. Like it just happens that we cross paths. But it’s not, is it? You're looking for me.”

You kept trying to think of an answer, a pushback, anything. But nothing came.

Manny smiled again, softer this time. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” you muttered.

“But you are. And you wouldn’t if you didn’t want it as much as I do.”

That night, every movement between you was slower. Deeper. There was no rush, just the quiet understanding that this was the only place either of you could be honest.

─────────────────────────

It didn't end there.

You started sneaking away at night, meeting Manny in quietest and abandoned places you knew no one would look at.

One day it was behind an old greenhouse, where vines had overtaken garden rows.

“Told you this place was romantic,” Manny said, holding up a wilted flower with a mock charm.

You snorted. “Trying to impress me, Alvarez?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“Not really.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re already in love with me.”

─────────────────────────

Then near the river, where an old campfire pit sat unused. You found Manny drawing something in the dirt with a stick when he heard you approach.

“Planning something?” you asked.

“Mapping escape routes,” he teased. “In case you finally admit you want to run away with me.”

You snorted. “I’d get sick of you before we made it three miles.”

Manny’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Three miles?” he challenged, taking a slow step toward you. “You know I can keep you entertained for way longer than that.”

─────────────────────────

Every time it became harder, riskier. The fear of getting caught got you both, but neither of you could stop. It was dangerous, reckless, but every touch, every glance, pulled you both deeper in. 

The risk was a part of the excitement at first. But as the days passed, the weight and meaning of what you were doing kept growing heavier.

It was the way Manny would ask you to stay a little longer, the way the time with him never seemed to be enough, and how you started wishing everything was different. That the rules that kept you apart didn't exist.

You almost didn't make it a rainy night, but managed to find him waiting beneath the half-collapsed roof of an old tower.

“You’re very late. I was starting to get worried," he said, his tone light but with an underlying edge of frustration. 

“Were you scared I wouldn’t come?” you shot back, but the teasing smile on your lips betrayed you.

“Nah. I knew you’d show," he murmured, lips touching your neck. “Can’t stay away from me.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed him as if the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Later that night, you lay side by side, staring up at the sky through the broken roof.

“I did get scared you wouldn’t come,” Manny said, barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around you, but his eyes refused to meet yours.

“Why?”

He hesitated, still looking away, as if searching for the right words. “Thought maybe wouldn't want to risk being around me anymore. Keep doing this for real."

You leaned in, your hand gently cupping his cheek, making him finally look at you. “I’m all in, Manny. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What if you change your mind?”

"I won't," you said firmly, your eyes locked with his. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

His lips pulled into a faint, almost relieved smile. “Yeah?” He leaned closer, the vulnerability in his eyes slowly giving way to something deeper. “Good. Because I don’t think I can walk away from this.”

“Neither can I.”

You smiled back, kissing him, letting the moment linger. As you pulled away, the question that had been hanging between you finally slipped out.

“You ever think about what happens if someone finds out?” you asked as your fingers touched the scar along his face, the same one you gave him the first time you met, which now seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Every time I see you,” he said. "But it’s always worth it.”

It was dangerous. Reckless. But in the darkness, when it was just the two of you, you didn’t care. All you wanted was him. And he felt the same.

The war might never end, but maybe you and Manny had found something that was worth fighting for, too.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

third time's a charm. l Joel Miller

bio : you tried three times to tell him that your lives would change.

request from: @kellyxo1

warnings: angst, sadness, tears, pregnancy, argument, Benji shows up, Tommy, Ellie, Shane; happy ending, I guess

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[Joel Miller masterlist] [my masterlist]

You weren't sure what you were feeling, what you were thinking. Your mind was completely blank as you held the pregnancy test in your cold hands. This was the third positive result. Maybe they were all bad? They were old, after all. But you couldn't lie to yourself any longer – morning sickness, missed periods, increased sleepiness. These symptoms were obvious.

You were pregnant.

After five years in Jackson, life had calmed down considerably for you, Joel, and Ellie. The safety of the city, solid meals, and restful sleep gave you a sense of normalcy. That wasn't a bad thing. You loved Joel. Your life was peaceful and flowed at its own pace. But you weren't trying to expand your family.

Joel often complained about getting older, about his back and knees hurting. But all those aches and pains disappeared when he took you in his arms, kissed you, and caressed you as you made love.

But life had other plans for you.

You watched as Joel patiently showed Benji a map of Jackson and the surrounding area. Their fingers glided across the paper, describing every location, every detail.

"Here are the walls, and here?" he said, pointing to the building.

"Hospital!" Benji said cheerfully, recognizing the symbol.

"Good job," his uncle praised him, and you smiled over your cup of tea. "Will you show me where your house is?"

The boy's sharp eyes began to read the map with interest, trying to find his home while Joel glanced at you.

"You seem worried about something, honey," he observed, looking at you over his glasses. "Is everything okay?"

You nodded slightly. "Yes, I'm just... thinking."

"Something nice?" The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"About how good you look with Benji," you replied, setting down your cup. "You're taking great care of him."

Joel chuckled. "Easy if you can get him interested. Right, kid?"

Benji nodded vigorously, but you weren't sure he was even listening, he was so focused.

Maybe this was the right time to tell Joel about the pregnancy? You thought about it, trying to figure out how to tell him. But as soon as you opened your mouth, your heart pounding, you heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, and a moment later, Tommy appeared in the doorway.

"Do you know if I can find my son here?" he asked, and a moment later, Benji's shout echoed through the office.

"Daddy!"

The boy slid off Joel's lap and ran around the desk, leaping into his father's arms. Tommy easily lifted him and kissed his temple.

"I hope he wasn't too tiring for you," he said, watching Joel lean back in his chair.

"Never," he replied. "We were reading the map."

"Practical skills, huh?" Tommy laughed, then turned to you. "Maria wants me to remind you about the party tonight. And to bring that grumpy old man with you."

"I'll try." You glanced at Joel as he rolled his eyes.

You knew he'd rather stay home, but at the same time, he knew perfectly well how much you enjoyed these kinds of parties. So he wanted to tease you a little before you went.

Music filled the room, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the Jackson residents. Your hands rested on Joel's neck, your fingers playing with his hair, which fell down his back. It was pleasant, even romantic. You danced, as did many people around you, though you felt as if you and Joel were in your own bubble.

His solid body was close to yours, and his strong hands rested on your hips. Closeness was something Joel had always craved, and you were the best at fulfilling that need.

"You're still thinking about something," he said, brushing his rough cheek against yours. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Nothing," you replied.

"It's not nothing if you're still thinking about it," Joel observed, tenderly brushing his lips against your temple. "Tell me, please."

You took a deep breath. "It's just..."

The sudden noise faded. You looked around, and after a moment, you heard the voices of Dina, Ellie, and Seth. A shiver ran down your spine, but you didn't even have time to look at Joel before he was gone. He reacted like any loving father would. Just like the man you loved would react. Even though he and Ellie hadn't been getting along very well lately, that didn't change anything.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” the girl screamed, and you caught Joel’s eye. He was hurt, broken.

He walked away before you could get to him, leaving you confused.

You spotted him sitting on the porch with his guitar. Faint notes drifted to the gate. Joel looked like a broken man, which hurt your heart even more.

“Hi,” you said quietly, stepping onto the porch. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I was…”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupted calmly. “It was… intense.”

“Yes.”

You bowed your head, trying to gather the courage to tell him what was so important to both of you. Maybe you hoped it would help him, maybe you wanted to finally not be alone in all of this. Joel's fingers plucked the guitar strings again, and the familiar sounds echoed in the darkness.

"I'm pregnant."

Your words cut through the silence like a knife. The music faded.

"I'm pregnant, Joel. And I'm so scared, but..." Your voice trembled, and your throat tightened. "I'm happy about it. I've been waiting for the right time to tell you, and this is definitely not it, but I couldn't wait any longer. We're having a baby, Joel. Please say something."

But he didn't speak. His gaze was fixed on the darkness beyond the porch, his chest rising and falling steadily, but he didn't say a word. Tears welled in your eyes. You couldn't stay there any longer. Hearing approaching footsteps and guessing it was Ellie, you stepped into the house, closing the door behind you. Your heart was breaking into pieces, and the tears brought no relief.

Yes, you were angry. But not just at Joel, but also at yourself, the world, and everything that was happening. Emotions were raging inside you, and for your own safety and the safety of others, you decided to avoid Joel. It wasn't hard, because he was clearly avoiding you too. He went to bed when you were asleep and got up first. You didn't try to change that.

Just a few days later, the door to your house slammed shut earlier than you expected. You were making dinner and hadn't expected Joel and Ellie to arrive so early.

But heavy, familiar footsteps headed toward the kitchen, and soon you heard his voice.

"Hi, honey."

The sweet nickname fell quieter, as if Joel wasn't sure he could still call you that.

"Dinner's in about an hour," you said, not even turning to look at him. You weren't sure how you'd feel when you looked at him.

"I...I wanted to apologize," he replied. You tightened your grip on the knife. "Are you sure you're..."

"Pregnant?" you finished for him. "Yes, I am. And don't worry, I won't force you to do anything if you don't want to."

Silence fell. It took a moment before you heard his voice again.

"I'm sorry, honey. I failed." You put the knife down and covered your mouth with your hand to hold back a sob. "You came to me so vulnerable, so fragile, and I acted like an asshole. It hit me like a wall."

"Me too," you replied with difficulty. "I tried to tell you that, but I couldn't. And when I finally did... Damn. I didn't plan this either, Joel."

Within a few steps, he was at your side. His hands wrapped around your shoulders and he turned you toward him. You saw his eyes—full of pain and concern. "I love you. I love you so much, and yet I hurt you. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I was scared, I still am. But I didn't think about how scared you must be. I don't want to let you and the baby down." He took a deep breath and added quietly, "But I think that's what I'm doing."

"I didn't plan on getting pregnant. But I've accepted it," you replied, placing your hands on his chest. "It's a big change. And I'm still scared."

"You're not alone in this, my love. I won't let that happen." He cupped your face in his hands. "You're one of the most important people in my life. I love you with all my heart, and I won't let you be alone in this."

"Joel..." Your voice broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks.

Joel wiped them away with his thumbs, then let you snuggle into his chest. He stroked your hair, whispering soothing words in your ear. "I'm with you, I always will be. And this baby is incredibly lucky to have a mother like you. We'll get through anything, my love. Together."

"Are you sure?" you sobbed. "Do you want this?"

He pulled away and looked into your eyes. "I'm sure I want everything with you. And we'll walk this path together."

"I love you..."

"I know. And you don't even know how much I love you, sweetheart."

He kissed you, sweet and gentle, and you knew everything would be alright. With Joel by your side, you knew nothing could stop you. Whatever was coming, you were ready for it. Together.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[pitchsidestories]

met someone II Lena Oberdorf x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1452

a/n: dear readers, the poll chose Lena Oberdorf for this oneshot, we hope you're enjoying it. 💖💖

“Lena?”, Lea sounded surprised.

“Lea, this bar sucks!”, the dark-haired woman yelled into her phone

“But that’s there all the hot lesbians are according to Georgia.”, the blonde frowned.

“Georgia is wrong. The thing is full of straight women.”, she observed with growing frustration as a group of them was laughing hysterically about a joke one of the girls had made.

“Wait, but it’s a gay bar are they all celebrating their bachelorette parties?”, the forward asked confused.

“I don’t care what they do here but they’re all here. I think I’ll go home.”, Lena replied grumpily.

To lighten up her best friend’s terrible mood the blonde suggested. “Tomorrow at my place? I’ll cook a lot of hot chocolate and then we’ll watch a stupid romcom?”

“Didn’t you do that today already?”, the brunette teased the older player.

“Uhmm.”, Lea responded awkwardly.

“I know you.”, Lena stated chuckling.

“Well, I can do it two times in a row if you don’t tell our coach.”, she answered sheepishly.

“Okay, I won’t tell him if you don’t tell him that I’m out at a bar.”, the younger footballer offered grinning.

“We’ve a deal. See you tomorrow night!”, Lea chirmed.

“Bye.”, the brunette ended the phone call. Her dark eyes wandering one last time through her surroundings. The bar had its charm, she could admit that. It had a fading elegance to it like an old diva where you could tell that the woman once was a great beauty, something with a lot of history.

The barkeeper had mentioned to her that back in the 1980s Freddie Mercury was a reoccurring guest. Probably it was a bit more colourful back in the day.

For a second Lena tried to imagine how it would’ve looked like when the British rockstar was still alive but when her eyes locked with yours and all she could think about was you. Why hasn’t the football player noticed you before?

“Uhmm hi.”, the brunette greeted you nervously.

“Hey.”, you bit your lip.

“I’m Lena.”, the stranger introduced herself. Her smile was infectious, it immediately calmed you and made you feel less awkward than you’d usually feel in front of a person you just met.

You told her your name and when added. “You’re alone here too?  There’s a lot of groups tonight?”

Lonely hearts recognized each other you thought to yourself. Especially in a crowded room where people who came alone were rare.

“Yeah, I was about to go home. But then I saw you and I thought.. I could at least try and shoot my shot.”, Lena winked.

“That’s funny because I was about to leave too until I saw you.”, you confessed without hesitation in your voice.

A smile spread across Lenas face: “Oh really? Looks like this was meant to be.“

You chuckled in response, teasing her: “Are you a romantic, Lena?”

“Not really.“, she shook her head, her smile unwavering.

“So you don’t believe in love at the first sight?”, you asked.

She tilted her head slightly: “I believe in attraction at the first sight.“

You could barely tear your eyes away from that smirk, confident and cool.

“Me too.“

Lena pointed back towards the entrance of the bar and suggested: “Maybe we should stay for another drink?”

You nodded quickly: “Yes.“

Unsurprisingly, the bar was still crowded when the two of you went back inside. Lena led you right towards the counter to two empty bar stools. She had already ordered drinks while you sat down.

“Come on, it’s on me.“, she grinned as she pushed one of the glasses towards you.

You smiled politely at her: “Thank you.“

“You’re welcome.“

You sipped on your drink. Despite its dangerously clear look, you could barely taste the alcohol.

“So, what got you here tonight?”, you asked.

“I moved here a couple of months ago. I guess I’m just looking for someone…“, Lena admitted willingly.

It was more than understandable.

“A big city like Munich can get lonely…“, you mused, absentmindedly swirling the liquid in your glass.

Observing you, she raised an eyebrow: “Speaking from experience?”

“I do…“, you replied but quickly frowned at yourself. That sounded all wrong, you weren’t lonely. “I mean I love my friends…“

“But a romantic relationship is different. I get that.“, Lena completed your thought.

You paused for a moment, not because her interruption felt invasive, but because you felt an immediate connection.

“It is.“

“I feel the same way about that.“, Lena agreed.

You lifted your glass and clinked it against hers: “Cheers to the Lonely Hearts Club.“

Lena laughed: “Who knows. Maybe we’re at the right place at the right time and won’t be part of that club for much longer.“

Your heart skipped a beat, swelling with hope that this could be more than just a last-minute flirt at a bar but your forced it to calm down.

“Do you want to go for a walk after this?”, you asked, once your heart had started pumping blood to your brain again.

Lena checked the clock on her phone and nodded: “Sure.“

“Perfect.“

Both of your glasses emptied quickly.

“Ready to leave?”

“Yes, I’m ready.“, you said as you got up.

“Let’s go.“

Lena followed you outside where you both were met with the chilly breeze of the late night.

Side by side, you started walking against the cold. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk just enough. You watched the shadows dance across Lenas face as you walked to nowhere in particular.

“Do you like living in the city so far?”

“I do. I expected the move to be harder but.. I like it.”, she admitted. You could tell that the young woman meant it. Immediately you asked yourself where Lena had lived before. Possibly somewhere smaller and calmer.

The brunette glanced at you with curiosity. “What about you? Have you lived here for a long time?”

“Yes, I moved here for university. It felt very freeing.”, a shy smile played on your lips as you spoke.

“I can see that.”, she observed in a friendly tone.

“In Munich you can be yourself.”, you added meaningfully.

A moment of realization hit the dark-haired woman unexpectedly. “You came out here, huh?���, Lena recognized.

“I did.”, you nodded. Pictures of the past were flashing behind your eyes. The small Bavarian village you grew up in, the catholic church being the centre of everyday life and gay people were basically non-existent. When you came to Munich it felt like you were able to breathe normally for the first time in forever.

“I think I understand why this city means so much to you.”, the brunette replied.

“You were out before moving?”, you asked her although it was more an observation than a question.

“Yes, for a while. I’m a football player so everyone is very open about it.”, Lena explained blushing.

“Ah a football player.”, you smiled at her mildly.

“Oh. You don’t sound impressed.”, she stated sounding almost a bit disappointed. But from the inside the midfielder felt relived too as sometimes the only thing women found interesting about her was her job.

The Lena off the pitch didn’t interest them at all, the one who loved her friends and family fearlessly, who liked to have fun, party a little and who wanted to take care of a dog again, but knew she wouldn’t have enough time without a partner to help her.

“No, I was just wondering why your arms are so impressive.”, you countered grinning, your fingers intertwined as you kept walking.

“You’re impressed by my arms? You should see my thighs.”, she smirked.

“Can’t see them through those trousers.”, you continued the banter making the woman you felt attracted to break into a warm and loud laughter.

“Sorry that joke went a bit far for a first meeting.”, Lena biting her full lips apologetically.

“A little but I’m already liking what I can see.”, you responded truthfully.

“Oh, you do?”, the football player raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, too much honesty?”, you chuckled.

“No, I like honesty.”, she replied earnestly.

“Same. So, what if I’d like to see you again?”, you questioned bravely, your heart pounding hard against your chest.

“How about tomorrow?” That ask sounded like music to both of your ears. Like this night might came to an end but it was only the beginning for you two.

The following day Lea exclaimed surprised. “Wait, you’re bringing a plus one to our movie night?!”

“Either that or I have to cancel. And you won’t forgive me for that.”, Lena said smiling.

“Okay, you can bring her.”, the striker sighed dramatically.

“You won’t regret it.”, the brunette promised wholeheartedly. Lena got butterflies in her stomach as she thought about you.

[ghostlynightpanda]

Can you write something fluffy for Tendou? Maybe how you met and how he fell for you or something? I don't really care much what, just lots of fluff please <33

Guess My Feelings

A/N: Thank you for the request! I love writing for Tendou—he's my favorite character—so this was really fun!

synopsis: You transfer to Shiratorizawa in your third year and become the volleyball team's manager, quickly catching the eye of a certain redheaded middle blocker — and just as swiftly as you win his attention, he quietly steals your heart in return.

content/warning: Tendou Satori x fem!reader, fluff, 8.396 words

You stood at the front door of Shiratorizawa Academy, your new uniform still stiff with unfamiliarity and the morning sun casting long shadows across the campus courtyard. It was early spring—cherry blossoms just starting to bloom—and everything felt too big. Too clean. Too new.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and took a slow breath. Third year of high school... new school... new city... new everything. You hadn't expected to transfer for your final year, but life had a way of doing its own thing. Your father's new job had been a great opportunity—"one we couldn't pass up," your mom had said. And Shiratorizawa was a prestigious school, known for its academics, sports, and somewhat intimidating reputation.

So here you were. Starting over.

You navigated the wide hallways, passing students who were already forming their usual cliques. You caught a few curious glances—being new was like wearing a sign on your back—but for the most part, everyone seemed wrapped up in their own lives. That suited you fine. You'd settle in at your own pace.

After orientation, you found yourself wandering the school grounds during lunch, enjoying the crisp breeze and trying to get a feel for your new surroundings. You were just rounding a corner by the athletic wing when you heard it.

"Still no manager for the boys' volleyball team?" a girl's voice floated out from a bench where three girls sat with packed lunches.

"Nope. I mean, would you volunteer to work under Coach Washijo?" another replied, her face scrunched in mock horror.

"Ugh, no way. I heard he made a first-year cry just for misplacing a water bottle."

"And the team's scary too, right? Like... not mean, but intense. No thank you."

You slowed down unconsciously, your ears perking up. Volleyball team. No manager?

Your fingers itched with instinct—familiar, almost nostalgic. At your old school, you'd been the team manager for two years. You loved it. The rhythm of practices, the responsibility, the tiny details that made things run smoothly. Being part of a team, even from the sidelines, had always felt like home.

The thought sparked something in your chest.

After lunch, your curiosity was officially impossible to ignore. The rest of the day passed in a blur—introductions, class overviews, and polite smiles from classmates—but in the back of your mind, one thought kept looping:

Volleyball team. No manager. Coach is scary. Doesn't matter—I want in.

By the time the final bell rang, you had a plan.

You packed up your things slowly, casually turning to the girl sitting beside you. She'd been friendly during roll call and even pointed out the nearest vending machine earlier.

"Hey," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Do you happen to know who I could talk to about the volleyball team?"

She blinked, surprised. "You mean… joining the team?"

You chuckled softly. "Not as a player. I used to be the manager at my old school. I heard they don't have one here."

Her eyebrows lifted, clearly impressed or maybe just intrigued. "Wow. Brave of you." Then she glanced around. "Actually… you're in luck. One of the players is in this class."

Your heart skipped. "Really?"

She leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly. "His name's Soekawa. He's the vice captain. Quiet, but nice enough. That's him over there—see? By the window."

You followed her gaze to a tall, broad-shouldered boy with shaggy brown hair and a calm, serious expression. He was halfway through packing up, earbuds already in, head tilted slightly to the side as if lost in thought.

"Thank you," you said quickly, feeling your nerves stir.

You walked over before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Hi," you said, stopping a short distance away.

Soekawa looked up, pulling out one earbud. His eyes were calm, neutral.

"I'm sorry to bother you," you began. "I'm new here—today was my first day, actually—and I heard the volleyball team doesn't have a manager. I used to manage at my old school, and I was wondering… if you could tell me who I should talk to?"

There was a beat of silence. His expression didn't change much, but his gaze sharpened slightly, assessing.

"You managed a team before?" he asked, voice even.

You nodded. "For almost two years. Practice schedules, hydration, warm-up routines, keeping track of stats mid-match."

He gave a thoughtful hum, standing up fully. He was even taller than he looked seated. "Coach Washijo's really strict. Most people don't last five minutes around him."

"I can handle strict," you replied with a small smile. "I'm used to high expectations."

He actually looked impressed at that, just a flicker. "I'm Soekawa. Vice captain."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

He gave a short nod. "If you're serious, I'll let the coach know. He'll probably want to meet you first."

"That's all I ask."

He looked at you for another moment—measuring your confidence, maybe—but finally gave another nod, this one slower.

"Be at the gym tomorrow after classes. I'll talk to him before practice."

You smiled, grateful and already feeling the thrill of reentering a world you'd missed.

"Thank you. I'll be there."

You showed up at the gym ten minutes early, nerves fluttering in your chest like restless birds. The sharp sound of volleyballs hitting hardwood echoed from inside. You stepped into the open doorway and waited quietly at the edge of the court, observing the tall players warming up and stretching with practiced focus. Their movements were precise, almost mechanical. No wasted energy.

Soekawa spotted you quickly. He jogged over, towel around his neck, and nodded toward the building between the gym and school.

"He's in the office. I told him you were coming."

You gave him a grateful nod and walked toward the room, following the short description Soekawa had given you. Your knuckles tapped gently on the open door.

"Come in," came a gruff, gravelly voice.

You stepped inside.

Coach Washijo sat at his desk, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable under bushy brows. He looked exactly as you imagined: stern, compact, intense. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, sizing you up.

"So," he said. "You want to be the team's manager?"

"Yes, sir," you answered, hands calmly at your sides.

"You understand this isn't a club of amateurs, don't you?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. "Shiratorizawa's volleyball team is not just some after-school hobby. We don't run around for fun here."

"I understand."

"Our team captain—Ushijima Wakatoshi—is one of the top three aces in the country," he said with clear pride. "National-level talent. Do you grasp what that means?"

You nodded. "That you play—and train—at a national level. That the expectations are just as high for everyone, even those supporting from the sidelines."

Washijo studied your face.

"I don't allow dead weight on this team. If you're not diligent, precise, and reliable, you'll be gone by the end of the week."

"I'm not afraid of hard work," you said evenly. "I'm serious about this. I know what it takes to support a team like this."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "What makes you so sure?"

"I was the manager for Itachiyama Institute before I transferred here," you said simply.

That made him blink. It was subtle, but there was no missing the shift in his expression.

"…Itachiyama, huh?"

"Yes. I worked closely with the team. Organized their travel for last summer's training camp, too. I know what kind of discipline is required. I know how to handle players at a high level."

"Sakusa Kiyoomi's team," Washijo muttered, more to himself than to you. He leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed but less rigid now. "That boy's one of the top three aces too. Only a second year."

You waited, saying nothing more. Letting your resume speak for itself.

After a long moment, he exhaled, almost like a growl.

"Fine. You'll start on probation."

Your heart jumped, but you kept your face calm.

"You'll show up fifteen minutes before every practice, stay until everything's packed, and listen to my instructions the first time. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't make me regret this," he muttered, already reaching for a clipboard.

"I won't."

As you left the office, you spotted Soekawa just outside the gym. He caught your eye, and you gave him a short nod.

You were in.

Not officially.

But almost.

You arrived at the gym fifteen minutes early, nerves tightly wound beneath your composed expression. The polished wood floor reflected the overhead lights, and the air was already heavy with the faint smell of sweat and determination. You had the distinct feeling that something important was about to begin.

Coach Washijo was already there, arms crossed and eyes sharp as ever. He gestured for you to stand beside him near the center of the court. You caught a few glances from players stretching or warming up—brief, curious, sizing you up.

Once most of the team had gathered, he raised his voice.

"Listen up."

Conversations died instantly. All eyes turned forward.

"This is Y/N," he announced, nodding to you. "She'll be acting as our team manager—on probation—until she proves she's worth keeping."

You smiled politely, bowing slightly. "It's nice to meet all of you. I'm looking forward to working with you."

There was a beat of silence—nothing unfriendly, just the kind of quiet that came with high expectations.

"Try not to make her job harder than it already is," Washijo added, voice gruff. Then he turned to you. "You can set up over there by the bench. Practice starts in five."

You nodded and moved quickly, already settling into the routine. Occasional glances came your way—nothing harsh, just curious. After all, you were the newcomer.

But you weren't here to be timid.

This was your world, too.

You started prepping water bottles, lining them up neatly near the bench. Every action had purpose, efficiency. Still, you couldn't help but notice how even the jokes were whispered—muted smiles exchanged behind shoulders, quiet chuckles that never reached Coach Washijo's ears.

You glanced toward the far end of the gym. The coach stood near the net, arms behind his back, eyes like a hawk's. Every time he looked in someone's direction, backs straightened. Conversations died.

Whoa. You'd expected intensity, but this was another level.

They ran drills like machines. Serves, receives, spikes—flawless execution, timed down to the second. And yet, something about it didn't quite sit right. You'd worked with a top-level team before. You knew the difference between focused and tense.

Then, somewhere near the midpoint of practice, the spell broke—just a little.

Coach Washijo stepped out of the gym for a moment, grumbling something about reviewing footage. The moment the door clicked behind him, you saw it.

Shirabu let out a breath and rolled his eyes in exaggerated exhaustion. Kawanishi muttered something sarcastic under his breath, and Goshiki —the only first year to be on the official team — finally relaxed his death-grip on the ball.

And then… laughter. Small and easy.

Semi grinned at someone. You turned to look and—

"Oi oi, you missed that by a mile!" a voice called, full of mock horror and delight.

You spotted the speaker instantly: tall, lanky, with red hair and a sharp grin that didn't seem to leave his face. He was draped over the bench like he had no bones, waving dramatically at Goshiki, who had just messed up a serve.

"Tendou," someone warned with a snort.

"You're breaking the spell," Semi added, amused but tired.

"Spell?" Tendou replied innocently. "I'm just trying to revive the boy's spirit before Coach turns him into a statue."

The mood in the gym shifted. Lighter. More human.

You watched with subtle fascination as the tension drained from the team—just slightly—but enough that you saw it: beneath the hard edges and intense drills, they were still just boys. Young men chasing the dream of winning. Friends, teammates, rivals.

They're not machines after all, you thought with a small smile. Just really, really good at pretending they are when the coach is around.

There was one exception.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You tried not to stare, but it was impossible to ignore him. Every movement was purposeful, calm. His expression didn't change—at all. You weren't sure he could laugh, much less joke around like the others.

Even when Tendou clapped him on the back with a teasing, "Wakatoshi-kun, loosen up! You look like you're at a funeral," the tall ace didn't so much as blink.

A brick wall. Completely unreadable.

You mentally filed him under "TBD"—for now.

Still, as you handed a towel to one of the players and accepted a quick thank-you in return, you felt it: the shift. You weren't invisible. They had noticed you. And they weren't just intimidating athletes with perfect spikes.

They were a team.

And maybe, if you proved yourself, you could become part of it.

The sharp whistle echoed through the gym one last time as Coach Washijo called an end to practice.

You exhaled quietly, not realizing just how long you'd been holding your breath. The players bowed quickly, murmured their thanks, and immediately shifted into cool-down mode. The once-mechanical atmosphere softened again, conversation resuming now that the coach had retreated to his office.

You stayed in your corner, wiping your hands on a towel and beginning to gather the water bottles. You were about to carry them toward the cart when you noticed someone walking over.

It was Soekawa.

"You doing okay?" he asked, his voice quieter than during your earlier conversation. "That was a pretty intense first day."

You blinked, a little surprised by the gesture. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's definitely different from my last school, but not in a bad way. Just… more structured. Serious."

He nodded, the smallest flicker of a smile on his lips. "That's one way to put it."

Then he turned, clearly satisfied with your answer. "Glad to hear it. Let me know if you need anything," he added, and then jogged off toward the locker rooms with the ease of someone who'd already said everything that needed to be said.

You were just about to turn back to your cleanup when you noticed another presence nearby—less businesslike, more… curious.

"Tired yet?" came a voice, bright and sly.

You looked up.

Tendou.

He leaned casually against a ball cart, watching you with unmistakable interest, red hair slightly damp with sweat and a grin curling at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm okay," you replied, trying to match his energy—though something about the way he tilted his head made you feel a little like he was trying to read you.

"So," he said, drawing out the word like a thread. "How long have you been at this school? Just started, right?"

You nodded. "Yeah. We moved here last month so I could acclimate before starting on time for the new school year."

"New girl and the new manager? That's bold," he said, eyes twinkling.

You shrugged lightly. "I've done it before. Figured I might as well jump back into something I actually enjoy."

Tendou looked amused. "Where from?"

"Itachiyama."

That earned a low whistle from him. You noticed a couple of the guys—Semi and Shirabu, mostly—lingering just within earshot, clearly pretending to do cool-down stretches but very much listening.

"You're kidding," Tendou said. "That Itachiyama? As in 'super-tight-defense and Sakusa-is-a-germaphobe' Itachiyama?"

You laughed, genuinely. "The very same. Though Sakusa isn't actually a germaphobe. It's just a rumour because he doesn't like crowds."

He stared at you for a second, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then he straightened up slightly. "Okay, now I have to know more. You gonna tell me more about the team or is that classified manager info?"

You smirked. "Depends. You always this nosy?"

"Only when I'm intrigued."

His words weren't flirtatious exactly—just honest in that weirdly offbeat Tendou way. You didn't mind. It was… nice. The attention didn't feel overwhelming. Just curious. Playful.

Before you could answer, he added, "Don't worry. I'll be good. I won't scare you off."

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that something you do often?"

"More than I'd like," he said, grin faltering for just a split second before it returned. "But you don't seem the easily scared type."

You tilted your head slightly. "Neither do you."

He blinked, like that answer caught him off guard—and then he laughed. Loud and sharp but not unkind.

"Touché."

There was a brief, comfortable pause. Somewhere behind you, Semi muttered something under his breath and nudged Shirabu toward the lockers. The eavesdroppers were finally retreating.

Tendou leaned a little closer, though not enough to cross a line. Just enough to let you know this moment wasn't quite over.

"Glad you're here, Manager-chan," he said, almost sincerely. "I think you'll make things interesting."

You smiled. "Glad to be here."

It started with a folded set of clothes laid neatly on top of your bag after practice a few weeks later.

A soft plum-colored jacket with white sleeves and Shiratorizawa Gakuen High stitched in crisp letters across the back. A clean collared shirt and track pants in the school colors, folded with near military precision. And tucked into the pocket—a note, in Coach Washijo's unmistakable sharp handwriting:

"You've proven yourself useful. Keep it that way. — W"

You stared at it for a moment, unable to stop the small grin tugging at your lips.

You were in.

No more "probation," no more careful watching for mistakes. You had earned your place.

When you walked into the next practice in your official team uniform, Tendou was the first to notice. He let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like he was in a soap opera.

"Our little manager's all grown up," he said, mock-sobbing into a towel. "Look at you, all official now!"

"Congrats," Semi called from where he was setting up cones. "About time, honestly."

Even Coach Washijo gave you a small, approving nod as you handed him the attendance list that day—a quiet gesture of acknowledgment that somehow meant more than any congratulations.

From that day forward, something shifted.

You weren't just "the new girl" anymore. You were the manager. Part of the team.

You got used to Tendou's strange tangents and weird energy—actually, you started to look forward to them. He brought a kind of chaotic comfort to the court, throwing jokes like volleyballs and weaving lightness into even the most grueling drills.

He'd trail beside you during breaks, pointing out which teammates had the worst taste in snacks, or leaning over your clipboard just to scribble "guess monster strikes again" next to one of his stats. He always made you laugh, even when you were exhausted. Especially then.

But there were serious moments too. Especially with Ushijima.

You quickly learned that as team captain, he took your role very seriously.

Every week before a match, he would seek you out—always with the same line.

"Let's go over strategy."

He was blunt. Always direct. But never unkind. He asked for efficiency reports, stamina trends, tendencies in other teams' rotations. At first, the silence between you felt… heavy.

But over time, you found a rhythm. He'd listen carefully to your insights and nod at your assessments, occasionally asking follow-ups with the same calm intensity he brought to the court.

One day, after you'd shown him a chart you'd put together tracking their recent practice intensity versus performance in mock games, he gave a rare, quiet response:

"Good work."

That was it.

But coming from Ushijima Wakatoshi, that felt like being handed a trophy.

You were growing into your role, and it showed—not just in your work, but in the way the team treated you. Goshiki came to you for pep talks when his confidence wavered. Kawanishi asked you to double-check his form footage. Even Shirabu, who rarely trusted anyone's judgment but his own, started pausing to ask, "Did you log that set? What did it look like from your angle?"

But through all of it, Tendou remained your most frequent and chaotic visitor.

He showed up by your side like a specter—half the time scaring you, the other half offering gummy worms or odd bits of trivia.

And you didn't mind.

Not at all.

You were halfway across campus, clutching a clipboard and a fresh sheet of lineup notes, when you heard your name.

"Hey, Manager-chan!"

You stopped and turned, spotting two guys from your parallel class leaning against a vending machine near the athletics building. You recognized them vaguely—neither unfriendly nor particularly important in your life. Still, you offered a polite smile.

"Hi."

One of them gave a dramatic stretch. "Heard you're managing the volleyball team now. That's gotta be intense, right? With that coach?"

"Coach Washijo?" you asked, arching a brow. "He's strict, yeah, but he's fair. He just expects people to take the sport seriously. Which they should."

The other guy snorted. "Still, isn't it exhausting being around all those egos? I'd fold in five minutes."

You kept your expression polite, if a little guarded. "I like it. They're a good team. Very dedicated."

That should have been the end of it, but one of them tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Even that one weird dude—what's his name again?" he said. "Tendou? The red-haired one? Man, he creeps me out."

"Yeah," the other added, "people call him the Guess Monster for a reason, right? Don't tell me you're comfortable hanging around that guy all the time."

You froze.

Your grip on the clipboard tightened.

And for a moment, something inside you snapped.

You didn't raise your voice. You didn't make a scene. But your tone cut sharp as a blade.

"Actually," you said coldly, "Tendou is one of the kindest, funniest, and most genuine people I've met since transferring here. He works harder than most of you probably ever have, and he still finds time to make everyone laugh even when he's exhausted."

They both blinked at your sudden change in demeanor, stunned.

"So if you're done talking behind someone's back, maybe try actually watching a match before judging someone who's twice the athlete you'll ever be."

Neither of them had anything to say after that. Just awkward glances and a mumbled "...jeez, okay."

You turned on your heel, storming off toward the gym, blood hot in your veins.

You'd known, in the back of your mind, that Tendou wasn't exactly popular. He made jokes about it sometimes—offhand mentions of being "the creepy one," of kids back in middle school who called him a monster, laughed at his voice, flinched at his grin.

And yeah, you'd heard the other version of his nickname too—the cruel one whispered between students who didn't know a single thing about him.

But it wasn't until now, hearing it with your own ears, that you realized just how much it pissed you off.

Not just because the comment was unfair. But because it was about him.

And maybe that was the moment it really hit you:

You liked Tendou.

More than the others. More than you probably should.

And it made your chest tighten painfully, because he didn't even seem to notice how bright he was. He didn't seem to realize that someone could look at him and feel their heartbeat stutter—not out of fear or discomfort, but because they wanted to be closer.

You pushed open the gym door, already trying to shake off the frustration before the team saw it.

What you didn't realize—what you couldn't have known—was that just behind the shrub-lined path leading to the entrance, two teammates had stopped to let your conversation pass.

Tendou and Ushijima stood in silence.

Tendou's eyes were wide, lips parted slightly, like he wasn't quite sure he'd actually heard what he thought he heard.

Ushijima, in his usual fashion, simply said:

"She defended you."

Tendou blinked once. Then again.

A quiet flush rose to his ears.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop.

He'd just… paused, hearing your voice, and then couldn't move once the words started coming.

Now, standing in the shadow of a tree with his heart pounding louder than the cicadas in the summer air, he could barely breathe.

You had defended him.

Not with pity. Not to score points.

With fire.

The gym was filled with its usual sounds—sneakers squeaking on polished floors, volleyballs echoing like thunderclaps against the walls, the occasional sharp whistle from Coach Washijo cutting through the air.

On the outside, you looked the same as always.

Focused. Efficient. Clipboard in hand, eyes on drills, scribbling down performance notes and hydration reminders. You made sure to hand towels out, fill water bottles, call out the time remaining on intervals like clockwork.

But inside?

You were still fuming.

The words those guys said kept replaying in your head—how casual they were about it. Like calling someone a monster was nothing. Like it was a joke.

You knew it shouldn't be bothering you this much. You'd stood up for him. You'd said what needed to be said. But still… the unfairness of it lodged under your ribs like a splinter.

He had been nothing but kind to you. Honest and a little strange, sure, but in a way that made the world feel more interesting. He brought you snacks he claimed "tasted cursed" just to see your reaction. He made you laugh until your stomach hurt during team dinners. And he always noticed when you were feeling off—even before you noticed yourself.

So why did people look at him like that?

You blinked back to the present when someone waved a hand in front of your face.

"Earth to Manager-chan," Tendou grinned, voice light and lilting. "If you stare at Shirabu that hard, he might combust."

You blinked. "What?"

He nodded sagely. "Boom. Right there on the court. One second we have a reliable setter, next second—charcoal briquette."

Despite yourself, your lips twitched.

You quickly looked down at your clipboard, hiding the hint of a smile. "I'm not staring at Shirabu."

"Hmm, denial. Classic sign of combustion plotting," he said dramatically, spinning his towel like a cape before hopping up to sit beside you on the edge of the bench.

He stayed there for a few minutes, talking nonsense.

A conspiracy theory about how Kawanishi was secretly a lizard person based on his snack preferences. A completely false trivia fact about the original volleyballs being filled with goat hair. Something about offering you a cursed potato chip that could grant one wish—but only if you licked it first.

You didn't say much in return.

But you smiled more than you meant to.

And he didn't leave your side.

Even later, as drills got harder and the team pushed through Washijo's punishing endurance circuit, Tendou kept glancing back your way.

Making faces from across the court. Winking when he caught you frowning. Mimicking Ushijima's stoic blocking form so precisely that Goshiki had to stop mid-serve to hold back laughter.

You chalked it up to him just being Tendou.

But what you didn't know—what you couldn't have known—was that he was trying.

Trying harder than usual.

Because he'd heard you defend him.

Because it still echoed in his ears like a dream he was scared to wake up from.

"Tendou is one of the kindest, funniest..."

He hadn't expected it. Not from you. Not from anyone.

And he didn't know what to do with how warm it made his chest feel—so he tried to make you laugh.

Because maybe, just maybe, if he could make you smile again… he could pretend that someone like you might actually think someone like him was worth standing up for.

Valentine's Day at Shiratorizawa wasn't anything special—at least, not in the way it might've been at a more laid-back school. Classes ran like usual. The hallways still buzzed with gossip, test scores, and club announcements. The only sign of the date was the occasional girl clutching a heart-shaped box or the flustered first-years whispering in corners.

But for you, it was different this time.

You had gone home that weekend instead of staying in the dorms. Your mom had greeted you with a knowing smile and a wink when you shyly mentioned your idea. Of course, she helped. She always loved baking—especially for a "cause" as pure as this.

Together, you had filled the kitchen with the smell of melting chocolate and warm sugar. You shaped and decorated each piece carefully, even labeling the gift boxes with tiny notes. You'd made something for everyone: players, the coaches, and even Washijo himself. It just felt right. You weren't about to exclude someone who contributed to the team's spirit—even if that spirit came with a terrifying glare and a whistle.

When Monday morning arrived, you carried the boxes to the gym in a large paper bag, your heart thudding nervously in your chest.

It wasn't romantic. Not yet. It was just encouragement, appreciation—team spirit.

That's what you kept telling yourself.

By the time practice ended, you waited just long enough for everyone to gather by the benches before pulling the paper bag from where you'd tucked it safely beside your gear.

"Uhm—can I get your attention for a sec?" you asked, raising your voice slightly.

Tendou looked up from where he was juggling a volleyball with his knees like a soccer ball, and the others slowly turned to you, some with curious expressions, some already guessing.

You cleared your throat, then reached into the bag, pulling out the first box—white with a neat red ribbon.

"I… know it's Valentine's Day," you began, voice a little shaky. "And I just wanted to say thank you. You've all been really great to me since I transferred, and I figured—what better way to boost morale than sugar?"

A pause.

Tendou's eyes lit up immediately. "No way."

"Manager-chan made us chocolates?" Goshiki gasped, as if you had presented him with an Olympic medal.

"Even me?" Coach Saito asked, somewhat amused.

You nodded, cheeks warming. "Even you, Coach. You're part of the team."

"And me?" Washijo's voice boomed from the sidelines, arms crossed.

You gulped—he'd been the one you worried about most.

"Yes, Coach Washijo," you said, giving a respectful bow as you handed him a small box. "Thank you for letting me be part of this team."

He stared at it for a long moment. Then, with a huff and a nod that could almost be mistaken for approval, he accepted it.

"Don't think this'll get you out of laps if you slack off," he muttered.

You smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Soon, the rest of the team was diving into their boxes, laughter and exaggerated reactions filling the air. Even Ushijima gave you an approving nod as he inspected the handmade chocolate bark you'd included in each set.

Tendou, meanwhile, held his box like it was made of glass.

His grin was wide—genuine, no teasing this time—as he peeked inside and saw the careful arrangement of chocolates, each molded into playful, irregular shapes. He looked at you, then back at the sweets, then back at you again, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be this happy about something so small.

You caught his eye, offered a soft smile, and quickly turned away before you melted on the spot.

The warmth in your chest lingered, though.

Because this? This was just the beginning.

What came next... was for him.

As everyone began to leave, you stayed behind to finish cleaning the gym—just like always.

Wiping down benches. Picking up forgotten water bottles. Gathering towels for laundry. It had become part of your rhythm, and Tendou had slipped into that rhythm too, in his own way.

He sat cross-legged on the bench, elbows on knees, chatting aimlessly as he waited for you.

"So I asked Goshiki if he knew what aphrodisiac meant and he choked on a protein bar," Tendou laughed, eyes crinkling with delight. "I thought Semi was going to kill me for real this time."

You smiled, but it was a little dimmer than usual.

You finished folding the last towel and stood, stretching your back with a soft sigh. Tendou watched you, eyes flicking over your face. He didn't say anything right away, but you could feel it—the way he was studying you a little more carefully than normal.

You switched off the lights, the gym echoing softly as the doors clicked shut behind you both.

It was just the two of you in the hallway now, the buzz of the overhead lights faintly humming above your heads as your footsteps echoed in sync down the corridor.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced sideways. "You're quieter than usual, Manager-chan. Chocolate-related exhaustion or... emotional sugar crash?"

You huffed a soft breath through your nose, not looking at him. "No, nothing like that. Just... thinking."

Tendou didn't press, though his eyes lingered.

The night air greeted you when you stepped out of the building, a soft chill brushing over your arms. The walk back to the dorms was familiar by now, the path lit with soft lamps and the low rustle of trees.

You kept walking beside him, neither of you rushing. This part—just the two of you walking back—had become so regular it felt like a quiet tradition.

But tonight, your hands were clenched a little too tightly around the straps of your bag.

And when the moment came—where you'd usually wave and say "see you tomorrow"—you hesitated instead.

"Wait," you said, stopping him before he turned toward the boys' wing.

Tendou blinked, curious.

You fished into your bag again, this time pulling out a much smaller box. Not fancy, not decorated with ribbons. Just a small container wrapped in soft tissue paper. Handmade and simple.

You held it out with both hands, eyes on the ground.

"This one's for you," you said quietly. "Only you."

Tendou stared.

He didn't reach for it at first. Didn't move.

"Didn't I already get chocolate from you?" he asked, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth—but it didn't reach his eyes.

You swallowed. "That was for the team. This one... isn't."

He finally took it, carefully, as if he was afraid it might crumble in his hands. He looked at the box, then at you—searching.

You forced a nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot. "I mean, it's not much. I just… I remembered you like the strawberry-filled ones. And the weirdly spicy ones? So I made a mix. Just... thought you might like it."

Your voice had gone a little too fast near the end.

And before he could say anything, before you had to see whatever reaction might cross his face—you dipped your head in a flustered goodbye.

"Anyway, night! Sleep well!"

Then you turned on your heel, walking briskly away toward your dorm before your legs could betray how shaky you actually felt.

You didn't see the way he stood frozen for a moment longer, staring at the little box like it might vanish if he blinked.

Didn't see the way his hands trembled—just a little.

And you definitely didn't see the figure of Semi, standing just down the path, arms crossed and smirking knowingly.

Tendou stood there a little longer than he probably should have, watching your figure disappear toward the girls' dorm building, the small box of chocolates still clutched in his hands.

He hadn't even opened it yet.

He was afraid to.

"Wow," a voice drawled from behind, laced with amusement. "Didn't know Valentine's Day came with a personal encore."

Tendou jolted slightly, turning around just as Semi stepped out from the shadowed edge of the path, hands shoved in his pockets and an all-too-knowing grin playing on his lips.

"Semi-semi," Tendou blinked, his tone too casual, too flat. He straightened, box tucked swiftly behind his back like he could pretend nothing happened—even though Semi had clearly seen everything.

"She made that just for you, huh?" Semi said, tilting his head slightly. "Didn't see anyone else get a second helping."

Tendou huffed a weak laugh, shrugging. "I dunno. Maybe she felt bad for me."

Semi gave him a look. "She blushed like she was going to combust, Tendou."

"Maybe she was embarrassed about her chocolate," he tried again, brushing it off, voice thinner this time.

Semi rolled his eyes. "Come on. She basically spelled it out. And don't act like you haven't been attached to her hip since day one."

Tendou's heart gave a sharp twist. "So?"

"So," Semi smirked, "she likes you, idiot. Like, likes you. Unless you're telling me she spent extra time making your favorite chocolates just because you're a weirdo she pities."

Tendou flinched—not visibly, but deep under his skin, where no one could see it.

His grip on the box tightened.

He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to.

But belief came with risk. And Tendou Satori knew rejection. He knew it well—too well. It lived in the curve of every whispered insult he'd learned to ignore, every stare that lingered just a beat too long, every time someone recoiled from his smile.

He swallowed. "People say things they don't mean all the time."

"Do you really think she's that kind of person?" Semi asked, the teasing gone from his voice now, replaced with quiet sincerity.

That stopped him.

No.

No, you weren't.

You were kind. You were honest. You looked at him—really looked at him—and never once flinched.

He felt a weight lodge itself in his throat.

"She might've meant it," Tendou said softly. "But that doesn't mean I get to believe it."

Semi sighed, but didn't push. "You don't have to believe it," he said, already turning to head to the dorms. "Just… don't be stupid and let it slip away."

Tendou stayed there, unmoving, staring down at the box in his hand.

Maybe it did mean something.

Maybe that shaky, nervous laugh and the warmth in your eyes wasn't just kindness.

Maybe… just maybe, someone saw him and didn't want to turn away.

And that hope—that dangerous, beautiful thing—settled into his chest like a flickering flame.

He wasn't ready to believe it.

But he wanted to.

And that, for now, was more than enough to make his feet move.

Half an hour and a shower later, Tendou stood outside your dorm room door, unmoving.

The corridor was quiet now, the faint hum of the heater the only sound around him. His hand hovered just inches from the wood, clenched into a loose fist he hadn't managed to lift.

He'd been standing there for at least three minutes.

Maybe more.

Any reasonable person would have either knocked by now… or turned around. But he couldn't do either. He just stood there—heart hammering, thoughts a blur.

What if he'd misread it all?

What if the extra chocolates were just a thank-you?

What if Semi was wrong and he was just a delusional freak again, seeing things that weren't there—hoping for things that didn't exist?

He was used to rejection. He could take it.

But somehow, with you… he wasn't sure he could.

It would be different with you.

Because you were real. You were warm and kind and you laughed at his stupid jokes like you meant it. You looked him in the eyes. You never treated him like he was a monster.

And the thought of you telling him gently, kindly, that it wasn't what he thought—it made his chest ache in a way he hadn't expected.

He wasn't used to wanting something this badly.

But if he left now… if he didn't find out…

He'd regret it. That scared him even more.

So without thinking about it further—without letting himself stop—he knocked.

Once. Twice. Softly.

Then silence.

He heard a muffled shuffle, the creak of a bedframe, and a few seconds later the door cracked open.

And then there you were.

Not in your uniform anymore.

In cozy sweatpants, a slightly oversized hoodie that fell off one shoulder, hair tied up loosely like you'd just been lounging or studying or maybe both. You looked relaxed and warm and safe.

Tendou felt his brain short-circuit.

You looked… adorable. Like home. Like everything soft and good and impossible.

Something in his chest squeezed so tightly it was almost painful.

You blinked at him in surprise, tilting your head slightly. "Tendou?"

Your voice was quiet, a little raspy from not speaking for a while, and it dragged him straight back to the present.

His eyes widened. Crap. He was staring.

Mouth slightly open. Hands frozen at his sides. Just… stuck.

"…Uhh…" he finally managed, voice cracking slightly. "Hi."

You blinked again, then smiled gently. "Hi."

He felt his ears burn.

"I was—um," he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly hyperaware of how awkward he probably looked. "Just. I. Wanted to talk."

You stepped back without hesitation, opening the door wider. "Of course. Come in."

That single gesture—so easy, so you—nearly broke him.

You didn't hesitate.

Not for a second.

He stepped in slowly, the box of chocolates still tucked in his hoodie pocket, his heartbeat so loud he was sure you could hear it.

And even though he still wasn't sure if it meant what he desperately hoped it did, for the first time since knocking…

He started to believe that maybe—maybe—he hadn't imagined it all.

Tendou settled into the desk chair slowly, like he was trying not to disturb the air between you. His long limbs folded awkwardly beneath him, hands resting in his lap, fidgeting ever so slightly.

You sat on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, your hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands like a nervous reflex. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable… but it was heavy. Loaded with things neither of you had said yet.

Tendou's eyes flicked around the room — to your desk, your small shelf of books and snacks, the soft string of fairy lights outlining the window. Then to the empty bed on the other side of the room.

"Where's your roommate?" he asked, clearing his throat softly.

You smiled faintly. "On a date."

Tendou's brows lifted. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Apparently the guy she likes finally grew a spine and asked her out. So she's gone for the night. Snuck off campus."

Tendou snorted, a little surprised. "Risky move."

You chuckled. "She said it was worth it."

A pause.

Then: "So… does that mean we're alone?" he asked, his voice playful — but there was a nervous edge underneath.

You met his gaze, a little warmth creeping up your neck. "Looks like it."

His fingers twitched in his lap.

Another long pause.

He didn't know how to start this.

How do you ask someone if they meant it? How do you bring up the moment you've been replaying in your head nonstop since it happened?

Finally, you broke the silence with a soft voice. "Is everything okay?"

Tendou looked up quickly, blinking like you'd caught him off guard. "What?"

"You're acting a little… weird," you said, your voice gentle but honest.

He let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah. I guess I am."

You tilted your head, encouraging him to go on, but gave him space.

He rubbed his hands over his jeans, then pulled the little chocolate box out of his hoodie pocket and set it carefully on your desk. Like it was something fragile. Something that had been weighing him down.

"You gave me this," he said slowly, eyes on the box. "After practice. When no one else was around."

You nodded. "Yeah. It's only been, like, what—an hour ago? I do recall giving you this."

"Half an hour," he mumbled. His gaze flicked up to yours, and his voice dropped to a quieter register. "Why?"

Your breath caught.

There it was.

No beating around it. No jokes to mask the nerves. Just him — quiet, serious, vulnerable.

You swallowed. "Because… it was for you."

"I already got chocolates from you," he said, but not accusingly. Just carefully.

"That was for the team," you said, folding your hands together. "This one was just for you."

Tendou stared at you, wide-eyed, searching for something in your expression. You could see the disbelief in his face — like he was scared to name what he was hoping to hear.

So you gave it to him.

"I like you, Tendou," you said softly. "I have for a while now. And I wanted to tell you, but I was… nervous. So I made chocolate instead."

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. His eyes were locked on yours, and in them, you saw the storm — surprise, fear, something almost like grief, and underneath it all… wonder.

You offered a nervous smile. "It's totally okay if you don't feel the same. Really—no pressure. I know you've got a lot going on with the team and everything. I just… I figured I should at least say something. Better that than always wondering, 'What if I'd just said it,' you know?"

"You like me?" He whispered, staring at you in disbelief. 

You nodded. "I do."

He let out a shaky breath — one that sounded like he'd been holding it for years.

"…Why?"

Your chest ached. "Because you're kind. And funny. You made me feel welcome here when I didn't know anyone. You never made me feel out of place, even when the rest of the team was still sizing me up. You're weird — in the best way. And you make me laugh every single day."

He still looked stunned.

"I know you've probably heard a lot of awful things before," you added, voice softer now. "And I know people can be… mean. But I never thought you were scary, Tendou. Not once."

He laughed — a quiet, broken sound — and his hands came up to cover his face.

And that's when you saw it.

His shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

You moved before thinking, standing up and stepping over to him, kneeling down beside the chair. "Hey—Tendou, are you—?"

He looked down at you, tears caught in his lashes, a trembling smile on his lips.

"I thought I'd dreamed it," he whispered. "That someone like you could… like someone like me."

You reached for his hand and held it gently. "It's not a dream."

For a long moment, he didn't say anything.

Then, with a laugh that sounded like joy and disbelief mixed together, he dropped to his knees beside you. "…Best Valentine's Day ever."

And with that, he wrapped you in a tight hug, squeezing you close to his chest as if he never planned on letting you go again.

Tendou's arms were locked around you, not too tight — just right — as if he was terrified to let go but equally afraid of crushing you in his excitement. You could feel his breath against your shoulder, shaky with leftover nerves, with relief, with something tender that had been locked away in his chest for too long.

You buried your face against his neck, heart still thudding erratically. The silence was soft now, no longer heavy. Just the hush of two people finally close enough to hear the other's heartbeat.

"I feel like if I let go, you'll disappear," he mumbled against your shoulder.

You smiled, your arms tightening around him in response. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tendou shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were still a little pink at the edges, but the look in them had changed — open, warm, happy. Really, truly happy.

"I want to take you out," he said, his voice suddenly steadier than you expected. "Like, officially."

You blinked. "You mean… a date?"

"Yeah. A real one." He gave a soft, almost sheepish grin. "Not just walking to practice together and sharing snacks after training — though I'd keep doing that forever too."

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. "You really want to?"

He nodded. "So badly. I wanna take you somewhere nice. Somewhere you'd like. Maybe the bookstore in town you told me about that one time? With the bakery next door? I heard they've got those cookies you like."

You blinked, surprised that he remembered. "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did," he said, nudging your forehead lightly with his own. "I remember everything you say."

Your face grew warm again, and Tendou laughed softly, pleased with himself.

"I mean, I might not be super experienced at this whole dating thing," he went on, "but I want to treat you right. Like a queen. Like you deserve."

You reached up, cupping his cheek. "You already do."

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment like the contact alone was grounding him. Then he opened them again, gaze clear.

"Still," he whispered, "I wanna try even harder. Just so you never doubt how much I like you. Or how lucky I feel right now."

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. "You're the sweetest guy I know, Tendou."

"Don't say that," he murmured, eyes scrunching slightly.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll melt again and you'll have to mop me off the floor."

You giggled, and he laughed too — that unmistakable, offbeat, boyish laugh that always tugged at your heart.

The kind of laugh you'd fallen for.

You stayed like that for a while longer — kneeling in the middle of your dorm room floor, just talking in hushed tones. Making soft plans. Promising little things. A movie night when the team had a day off. Cookies he'd try baking for you. A date at that tiny bookstore café. A life made out of small, sweet moments.

And when you finally stood up together, he gently took your hand, laced his fingers with yours, and looked at you like you were something out of a dream.

Only this time, he believed it was real.

And it was his.

Masterlist

[aibafiles]

Esperanto in Metaphor: ReFantazio

Not long ago I saw this this tweet pointing out that the in-game language in Metaphor is Esperanto (written in another script) and I decided to investigate for myself! The vocal tracks are in Esperanto as well, but I want to focus on the text here since I don't have a great ear for it. (The quoted tweet also points out that you can rearrange the title to get an Esperanto phrase - I think it would be more accurately spelled "Metafore Fantazio," or "metaphorically fantasy"!)

For the unfamiliar, Esperanto is the world's most widely spoken constructed language, developed in the late 19th century with the aim of being an easy to learn secondary language that could act as a bridge between speakers of other languages. While its vocabulary and grammar are largely derived from various European language families, it has speakers worldwide, including a sizeable number in Japan. Given the relationship between Metaphor's world and our own, I think it's a cool choice to take a constructed secondary language and make it the in-universe primary language—not to mention the game's themes of uniting different people with a language intended to do just that.

I studied Esperanto myself for some time 9 years ago, though I've forgotten most of it, so I'm very rusty. That said, I was able to sit down and parse one particular block of text that the game provides a translation for, and use that to read the rest! I'm slowly combing through the demo and translating any legible text, and I wanted to share some of the interesting details I found. If any Esperantists see this and want to weigh in, please do! There's plenty I may not remember or be aware of.

Continued under the cut, including content from the demo:

Let's start with the text the game translates for us! Here's what the VO/subtitles say:

O Great Seeker, bearer of fantasy empowered... Hear my wish, and come forth from thy epoch of glory to grant me thy guidance.

Here's the "deciphered" Esperanto:

Ho, granda serĉanto, kiu vivas en epoko de gloro, kiu enkarnigas la povon de fantazio. Bonvolu disdoni al li vian gvidadon.

And here's a more "direct" translation:

O Great Seeker, who lives in an epoch of glory, who embodies the power of fantasy. Please grant him thy guidance.

Not too much different of note here other than the pronoun usage—in Esperanto, the speaker explicitly uses "he," likely referring to the protagonist. I suspect that the English is actually translated from the Japanese line, which is ambiguous, so they made an educated guess here. But, since this is the same speaker who narrates awakening cutscenes and new bonds, it makes sense that they're calling to the Seeker on his behalf!

This is a point I'm unsure about, but from my understanding, "granda" (here translated as "great") typically refers to size, so it seems like an odd word choice to me—but it's possible there are connotations I'm not aware of.

After some poking around I stumbled across some text on the background of the name entry screen that reads "signaro" (character set), followed by the whole Latin alphabet on the next line.

"But Batts!" you may say. "Esperanto doesn't use QWXY! What about the diacritics!"

Well. There aren't any! There are 6 characters with diacritic marks used in Esperanto (ĉ, ĝ, ĥ, ĵ, ŝ, and ŭ), and since our character set doesn't use any of them, we have to make some educated guesses about which one it is at any given time. This is mostly a non-issue since they're real, existing words, but it does make it a bit trickier at points, and relates to another problem I'll get to in a bit. (There are a select few instances where I've seen diacritic marks on handwritten text or shop names, but there are still far fewer than there should be.)

That said, there is also some plain English text using this script as well, so the game does make use of those extra letters, such as the Memorandum UI - scrolling books have titles like "Marine," "Royal Capital," "100 Mystery of Ningen (humans)," and "Melancholia Gen" (?), plus cute notes in the background like "I want to read slowly" and "already read very good."

Anyway, this diacritic ambiguity bugged me for a bit when I started translating some text with "Euchronia" in it, like the above "Regno de Eŭcronio - Dezerto de Tradia." The Esperanto "C" and "Ĉ" are always pronounced "ts" and "ch" respectively, so the pronunciation here is a bit awkward either way, as both characters are meant to precede a vowel. A more natural pronunciation in line with both the Japanese and English would be "Eŭkronio," a spelling I found once in the body of the contract our protagonist signs to join the army, and never again. Alas.

I noticed a few interesting details while translating place names - the "Trad" in "Grand Trad" (Granda Tradicio) means "tradition" - and many locations are labeled on the map that I don't think are mentioned in the demo's runtime - Oceana to the west is named, but also of note are Kalendulo ("marigold," maybe "Calendula" in English) to the east, the Hulkenmont mountains surrounding that region, and the "Malnova Insularo" (old archipelago) to the south.

(Screenshot grabbed from justonegamr on Youtube.)

Lots of fun stuff going on with these posters - the big propaganda poster says "Mi volas vin por homoj" - "I want you for humans!" The poster immediately to its right and the one with the light-haired paripus are both wanted posters with rewards of 50,000 and 7,000 respectively, and the former has a somewhat legible name - Mikelan something (?). There's also quite a bit of illegible text that I'll need to boot up the game to stare at, textures willing.

Here is where I noticed an occasional problem with the text in this game: some of these posters include words that should have diacritic marks, but instead the characters are gone entirely or replaced with a space. For instance, the poster with the face that appears twice on the bottom row reads "Ser a peto - i tiu viro" where it should say "Serĉa peto - ĉi tiu viro" (Search request - this man). I spent so long wondering what "Dan ero" meant on the poster with the red "no" sign before I realized it was meant to be "Danĝero" (Danger).

This extends to some other parts of the game, such as the world map title ("Unuiĝinta Reĝlando de Eŭcronio" written as "unui inta re lando de e cronio," which is how I knew it was a plain C oops), and the giant statue in More's study covered in archetype names, some of which are missing characters.

I suspect that at some point in the process, these characters couldn't be properly encoded and got lost before making it into the game. Most of the UI text seems to be intact, and this only affects graphic text as far as I've seen. Luckily, we can usually use context to guess at what they should be.

There's a ton more that I'm still hunting down and translating, so if you'd like to see it, you can check out my spreadsheet here! I'm hoping to keep updating it as I play through the full game, and I may make some more posts if I encounter any particularly interesting details. A few more tidbits before I go:

This appears to be an annual calendar - number 1 is at the top and it circles around to 12, and then the inner circle runs from 1-30, likely representing the weeks.

Various graffiti found around Sunshade Row that reads:

Ĉi tio estis infero (this was hell)

Malbela elda (nasty/ugly elda)

Merdo (shit)

And in the words of our favorite tooth...

Elbe venontfoje! (Maybe next time!)

[lavenderhateswritting]

Regenerative! Reader(who can’t die) with Mohawk Mark. I feel like they’d be great for each other.

He liked to watch you pull yourself back together. The slow methodical ways in which your sinew slowly pieced itself back together. The bones snapping back together and the poping of ligaments . Anything that couldn't be reconnected was slowly built again. He watched as your heart slowly started to reform, the blood vessels and tubes forming building over each other over and over again.

"You are such an asshole." Your voice is ragged and wet from the blood flowing up your throat. Your lungs haven't even begun to reform yet so there was a light whistle everytime you breathed in.

A smile pulled at his face he was holding your heart in his hand. The organ had long since stopped pulsing. Your blood coated his body drying slowly as he marveled at the beauty of you like this. So vulnerable, weak in a way no one else could see but him.

"Aw don't be mean you said you wanted to give me something to remember you by." He looks down at your eyes. They were focused on him and only him even as your chest tried to piece itself back together.

"Yeah I was hoping I would get bent over that throne of yours and fucked so hard I couldn't walk until you came back." You've got a spark in your eyes. A hungry look to you that he has always loved. "Instead I'm laid out on the floor soaking wet with a hole in my chest." You pout a little like you're genuinely heartbroken. "And you ruined my outfit."

"I could get you millions of outfits I lot skimpier with the snap of my finger." He turns his eyes down from your eyes toward the expanse of new soft skin that has formed where a hole in your chest once was. "And as far as me bending you over the throne that can still be arranged."

He reaches his free hand down and drags his finger slowly up the expanse of fresh new skin staining it with your own blood.

"I thought you only had 10 mins and you've already wasted 5 watching me bleed out on the floor." He can watches as a smile graces your face goading. "Yeah and whats that supposed to mean." He asks as he dances his finger up your chest until he's directly above a rib bone.

"I mean I know I'm good, but coming in less than 5 minutes that's quick even for you." You're pushin him you want a reaction and god he loves giving you one. He feels a smile spread across his face.

"I don't remember you saying that last night." He's began to add pressure on the rib bone now pushing down with more and more strength. He watches as a hungry look rises to your face.

"What did you say again. 'Mark please I can't take anymore'." He's pushing the bone to its limit now he can feel it bendig underneath him trying its hardest to resist the sheer force of his strength.

"Did I say that I can't remember." Your voice is strained the pain of his force making your words are beng forced out between your teeth.

"Then maybe I should jog your memory, huh." He hears the snap of the bone underneath his finger watches as the pain hits you and morphs with pleasure to make your ead reel back.

"Yeah I guess you'll have to." You're breathing hard now breath coming out in short puffs. You looked so gorgeous like this face twisted in pain waiting for him to push you past your limits.

"Do you plan on starting me down for the next year or are you going to fuck me." You never knew when to stop you could push him to a point no one else could.

He dropped your heart on the ground and surged forward to lay completly on top of you. His lips crashed into yours like he was a man starved. He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood causing you to gasp. He shoved his tongue down your throat as soon as he got the chance. His hands found themselves on your wrists pinning them to the floor beneath you. He heard the pop of your left wrist dislocating and felt you push up into him as soon as it happened.

He pulled off your lips and then foun himself kissing his way up and down the expanse of your throat. Nothing he did would leave a mark in 20 minutes it would be like he had never touched you, but god there was nothing he loved more than trying to leave a mark on you. He opened his mouth and bit down onto your shoulder with enough force to split skin and leave his mouth filled with your blood. You cried out something close to a whine.

"Mark. Fuck." You were getting more and more wound up as the time went on. He groped his way down your chest toward that aching part of you.

"Well it seems I might be interupting something." The voice was behind him and he felt himself damn near turn around to kill whoever had interrupted him from giving you what you needed.

"You never heard of a warning Angstrom you fucking dick." God he didn't want to leave yet. Not when you were laying underneath him mouth swollen, body bruised, and still wanting him.

"Yes well I can't wait any longer we'll have to leave immediately." He wanted to rip this mans head off then make it watch as he debauched you.

"Go ahead Mark I'll still be here when you're done." He felt you grind up against him. "I'll be waiting for you."

God this was so much hornier than I intended whoops

[schlattslonghairytoes]

schlatt calling you mama out of the blue because ted told him it would work to get you flustered but you both end up laughing and schlatt gets so embarrassed

hey mamas

you were sprawled out across schlatts couch, watching the basement yard. you had already made breakfast, fed jambo and garlic bread

and now you just had to wait for you fuckass boss to wake up, i guess you guys had just given up on punctuality at this point

its no like he had a whole lot to do today, but your job was to get here at the same time every day, and make sure he finished his checklist

if its one task, or a record number of twenty-two

you were so focused in on your video that you didnt even hear the door click open

"whats your favorite poptar-"

"good mornin' mama" schlatt interupted your video

"alright, pack it up beast boy" you laugh at your own stupid joke as he sits next to you on the couch

"does that make you raven" he raises a brow and mews

"can we chill with the rizz its too early for this" you two spoke like this all the time, so you assumed the mama bit was over

holy shit were you wrong

as if it were clockwork, he managed to call you some variation of mama, six times in two hours

and listen you werent necessarily complaining, but like, it was getting weird

"can you hand that to me mama?" he asked while he was editing his newest video

you grabbed his gamersupps and passed it to him, again trying to ignore his little "mama" kick.

you were sat on the bed in his filming and editing room on your phone, all you had to do today is make sure he finished this one video he was putting off

"ok, i jus' have to ask, where did this mama bit come from, not complaining jus' curious." you lent over the bed to look at him, his face now significantly red.

"i dont know" he said quietly, pretending to be locked in on editing when you could see him clicking the same clip over and over

"c'mon, usually your go-to's are toots, or doll, and the occasional broad. why the switch?" you said, squinting your eyes at him

"does it really matter?"

"yes."

"ughhhhh" he leaned back in his chair and looked at you, his face still tomato colored

"im waiting c'monnnn" you giggled

"tedtoldmethatificalledyouthatyouwouldreallylikeit" he spat out

"jay do you think i even heard what you said?" you laughed as he finally turned his seat around and sighed

"i was talking to ted and he told me that you used to love being called that as a stupid petname and i dont know i just thought i should start calling you that i guess. im sorry" he said awkwardly

"hey dont be emmbarrased, ted was right, i love that nickname, just mix it up sometimes alright, your spamming it but an occasional one is great."

he looked up at you through his long lashes

"alright mama."

and for the ninth time today, you swear you felt butterflies again.

hi just a short lowkey ass post so i can try and get bakc on my writing grind

[redheadspark]

8 w/ 11 for Azriel. Plz.

Furthermore, 9 for Azriel

And 10. With, you guessed it, Azriel.

Not in one fic. I formatted it weirdly to try and get that point across. If you can’t tell, I really like Azriel. He deserves all the love.

thank you!

A/N- This is great! Thanks for the request, anon!

Proposal

Summary - Azriel springs a proposition on you

Warnings -fluff :)

“Anything else on the agenda today?”

“No, not unless you wanna go over what we’re gonna talk about at Rita’s tonight,”

“Let’s save it until then. Thanks, Feyra!”

“Not at all, I’ll see you there for dinner!  And please make sure that mate of yours dresses nicely, I don’t want to hear the end of it from Rhysand about Azriel and his lack of style,”

You giggled and nodded in agreement as your High Lady glided out of the room, her mint green dress floating behind her with ease as she slipped the door of your personal office shut. You sighed, not in agitation or annoyance but in relief since your talk with Feyra smoothed out some ends that were in need of fixing.  

Looking around at your small private office that was at the Townhouse, set up on purpose by Rhsyand when he made you in charge of the affairs of Velaris, its as calm and quaint.  The massive windows were open to let in the cool summer breeze and the scent of the melon trees Elaine planted some time ago, ice tea that was halfway consumed perched at our left with a small stack of papers, and on your left finger a small diamond ring that glistened in the midday sunlight that streamed in the windows.  

You loved this little office, it had small touches that you brought along with you when you were hired by Rhysand.  You grew up in Velaris, knowing the city like the back of your hand.  Which was why you were hired: you had the knowledge of the people and their needs.  You loved Velaris and all tis beauty, and you were willing to do anything to make it thrive.  

Another couple of taps were heard on the other side of the door, but it was a familiar rhythm.  Three fast and two short, making you grin as you were getting up to water some of the plants that were growing over the fireplace on the mantle.  You didn’t have to hear the door opening, nor did you heard the soft forte’s over the carpet coming your way as your back was to the door.  

But you felt his presence all the more, not to mention the soft aftershave he was sport as you finally turned around to face him.

Azriel was leaning against your desk, his leathers were still on but he looked rather relaxed with his wings tucked behind him and his arms crossed in front of him.  It felt like a contrast with his dark leather and brooding looks within your bright room and colors.  It was a clear reflection of your relationship: the grumpy Shadowsinger and the ball of sunshine.  A lot of people didn’t see how you two would end up together,  but they were validated with their own feelings and judgement.  Neither of you cared, simply because you two were head over heels in love with one another from the moment Feyra introduced you two some time ago.  

But it was mostly because Azriel never showed his affectionate and vulnerable side.  Not even for the Inner Circle.  Only to you, just you.  

“I take it things are going well at camp?” You asked as he tilted his head at you.  He chuckled, his grin was infectious as you were watching him. You could tell be w aunt’ as stressed given that his wings were not as tucked severely against his back, nor was he standing in a rigid manner.  In fact, he seemed rather loose and calm while he leaned against your desk.

“Well enough that Cassian sent me home to tend to you,” he explained, though you rolled your eyes.  Leave it to Cassian to send Azriel home.  You loved their relationship, wishing you had something like that when you were young.  But Cassian was just as kind to you when Azriel introduced you to the Inner Circle a little bit after you two met, Cassian thinking instantly that you two were perfect for one another.

“He thought you needed to tend to me?” You joked, making Azriel laugh.  You walked back over to him, Azriel instantly taking you in his arms and breathed you in.  You loved it when he did that, you feeling protective in his arms and yet not too protective.  

He knew how to hold you close in the best way, passionately when you two were alone in bad, softly when you were walking in the park, even fiercely when you were in need of comfort and healing.  Being held by Azriel was almost like your soul was a puzzle piece and he was the last piece that was needed to make you feel whole again. 

“I missed you a lot today, is that too much to say?” He asked as he ruffled your hair playfully with his scarred palms. You laughed, attempting to move away from him but you never had the heart to.  Azriel smoothed out your braid as he then kissed the top of your head intimately, “Plus, I know we’re going to Rita’s tonight for dinner and I wanted to freshen up here…..and then propose something to you,”

You pulled back to look up at him with a raised brow.  He had something else on his mind, something that he was attempting to hide though he knew you were not one for insane surprises.  

“Oh?  And what would that be?” You questioned him, but he skep this composer and was now swayed. 

“I know we are talking about finding our own place together for the past few months,” he started to explained, his arms were around your waist as you watched him, “And I know you wanna take some time before jumping into a place.  But…I did find a spot near the outskirts of Velaris..”

“Az..” You were about too start, but Azriel interrupted gently.

“It’s small,” he explained, you going quiet to hear him out, “A flat, recently renovated and not a fixer upper by any means.  It’s small enough for just the two of us since we’re not gonna start a family anytime soon, and it has a great view of the bay.  Now, before you say no, at least come out with me and take a look?”

You thought about it, seeing his hazel eyes pour into your own.  Finding the prefect place for you two to live together was no easy feet, in was in fact rather hard.  Azriel would live out of a box if he could, and he spent most of his time at the Illyrian training camps to begin with so he had his own place to live there in the mountains.  

As for you, as much as you enjoyed being in the Townhouse, you wanted your own place to all home.  But you wanted it modest, small and cozy.  Rhysand was willing to find penthouses suites for you or even a manor or two, but you made him promise to not be involved to a point.  You wanted to find one on your own, and it was taking some time.

“Please?” He asked, seeing you hesitate for a long second.  You had to give him credit, he knew you far too well and would never push something you unless it was important or something you could handle.  You had to smile and nod your head, Azriel grinned like a Cheshire Cat and kissing your lips softly, “I promise, it’s just a look.  If you don’t like it, even for a second, we’re not gonna make a decision. It’s up to you, but I think it’s a good space for the two of us,” 

“I’ll have a look, just a look,” you reassured him, “Now come on, let’s go shower for dinner.  Feyre wants you to be presentable tonight,” You advised.  Azriel had to toll his eyes from the comment from his High Lady, but he was smiling still as he held your hand.

“Bathroom on the third floor?  It’s big enough for the pair of us,” He explained, then before you knew it, he hoisted you on his back.  You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands held your legs.  He waltzed out of the room with you on his back, the pair of you laughing.

You both would end up at Rita’s with the rest of the Inner Circle, smiling at one another across the table as stories were being shared. You would end up seeing that flat before Rita’s, having a small walk through of the cute little home that was bare to the bone but had a lot of character.  And as Rhsyand ordered a round of red wine for the table, you would feel the keys to the flat in your dress pocket as Azriel would wink at you.

You ended up living in that flat for several years, one of the best proposals he’s ever given you, apart from his marriage proposal of course. 

The End

June Prompt Session

[szynkaaa]

The Shape of Monkey

EDIT 22/01/2025 @blackknight-kai has made some additional interesting observation about the shape of monkey and their fur placement with things that I previously missed, please check out her post for the details

xxx

Some of my friends were talking about the monkey design in Black Myth Wukong, in terms of how much of monkey features the DO/SWK has, and how we wished they devs added a bit more "monkey" ness to the DO, which then made me realize, the devs did do that, but just not for the "normal" game model that we use to play.

The anatomy here is pretty much very normal, the only few traits pointing at him being a monkey are his feet, tail, his face and his fur.

My friend (who doesn't even play BMW or knows about JTTW but is a certified monster fucker) said she doesn't count him as a monster because his shape is too human LOL

This is how he looks in Chapter 5 ending animation:

very human shaped.

which brings me back to the monkey that looks more like a monkey in the game

The Stone Monkey is a two phase we fight in the final boss battle, after we defeat him he breaks and out comes the Broken Shell of the Great Sage

After you finish the first playthrough, you get the Stone Monkey as a transformation, called the Azure Dome.

If you do the True Ending, you transform into the Azure Dome for the first time towering over monkeys and beat the shit out of the four heavenly kings and Erlang. Great fight 10/10

proprotionally speaking, his arms seems a bit longer, or least looks like it due to his big hands. His tails is also longer (don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately), and his ears are pointed. I also think that his mouth structure is a lot more monkey like with it being more pointed forward than his normal model.

Canonly, SWK can change his size into very big or very small, but I don't think in JTTW it was ever described that he had a Stone Monkey form. He is a stone monkey, or monkey born from stone.

I really love that the devs took it literal and created a form and transformation that looks like a monkey and you can see from his tecture that he is supposed to be made from stone

He punches people and also when he dodges he walks on all four. So I guess that is the closest to a monkey we will get from DO/SWK

Chapter 6 ending animation also goes with a more "monkey" like anatomy for Wukong's design

point ears, longer limbs, shorter legs. I love that they added the red face blush here too. His tail is never shown in the animation, but looking at his pilgrim outfit set and the pulge in his pants (no not that one), he probably hides his tail inside his pants. it's kind of a cute detail

The Old Monkey we see also has more human like proportions:

all the other monkeys in the background (beside DO) are more monkey.

Here are the models I pulled from the game

I also love that each monkey has a different fur "pattern", gives them more variety

This one we only see when you reach the normal ending, when the DO did not break the cycle and the headband is put back onto his head, we see this monkey in the fetal position and then it zooms out to the stone egg and sad credit song plays. You can watch the clip here.

I think it's clear that the devs are trying to show an unbron monkey still in the womb, the stone egg/birth stone being the womb in this case, waiting for the next DO to come and finish SWK's revival.

I guess the stages of growth could be like this:

Why did Game Science went for a more human-like approach for the Monkey in terms of design?

We don't know the answer, it was never mentioned anything in the game about it and I have not come across any interviews about it yet.

I do think that the choice to make the Stone Monkey more monkey like and the "normal" monkey more human like was a deliberate choice by the devs.

For the animation, I believe the Game science gave the studio some references on "hey this is how our monkey looks like" and then let the studio do its own thing style-wise, hence why in Ch. 5 animation monkey has a more human like anatomy but ch. 6 comes with more monkey like anatomy

My personal HC is that SWK has a more human-like anatomy to show that he has a high level of cultivation maybe? We have seen in the game there are few yaoguais that are able to take on human appearances, such as the Pingping and the 5th spider sister. And yes, I also hc that SWK does have a monkey-form too that he can transform into.

I'm really begging for Game Science to release an artbook with concept art and background info on why they did this and that

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"WE HAVE ENOUGH TIME"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH SERGEI

I hope you like it! 🖤😊😌☝

tags : @myesc8petw0rld

gif made by : @coltscupofcoffee 😊

You waited impatiently for Sergei to arrive at the agreed-upon meeting point.

The prison they'd tried to hold him in was one of the most secure in the entire region, but you knew that wasn't going to stop him from his mission to escape after killing one of the country's biggest human and animal traffickers.

The poor wretch didn't believe he was the hunter all the stories spoke of, and Sergei had to bite his throat out so everyone would know the hunter wasn't a myth, that he was a real man and that he was there, among them.

You took another sip of the coffee you'd made hours earlier and placed it on the shelf next to the controls after taking a sip.

You waited for a few more minutes, and then you heard it.

Someone was running quickly toward you, so fast it seemed they weren't even touching the ground.

You looked back at the back of the plane as Sergei entered, leaping down in a way that was quite similar to the way a lion pounces on its prey.

His gaze met yours for a moment before giving you a quick hand gesture.

"Go, go!" he said, signaling for takeoff.

You quickly gripped the controls tightly, and after skimming across the ice for a few moments to gain speed, you took off.

Visibility wasn't great due to the snowfall, but luckily for Sergei, you were one of the best pilots he knew.

Whenever he needed air travel, he'd call you to pick him up, which meant you two would see each other quite a bit.

Like that time in Japan when he saved several elephants from being killed in some sort of ritual murder.

Apparently, it hadn't rained in that area for a while, and the locals had listened to the leader of what they called their congregation, who had told them they should sacrifice five elephants to make it rain.

Sergei sprang into action before that happened, saving the animals and putting the leader of said group in his place.

You flew over a bank of clouds and put the autopilot on for a moment before turning to him.

"How did it go?"

"I'm still in one piece," he laughed. "I can't say the same about the one you and I know"

"He got what he deserved," you murmured. "Now everyone will know that the legend of the hunter isn't as legendary as they thought."

He took off his shirt to change, replacing the prison clothes with his own, which you had prepared earlier: a white T-shirt and black jeans. You couldn't help but glance at him briefly as he did so.

You didn't want to seem like a voyeur or anything, but it was almost impossible not to spend every few minutes staring at the way his strong, large arms flexed whenever he moved, or the way his hair, partially damp with sweat, stuck to either side of his face, giving him an even fiercer air than he already had.

He felt your gaze on him and jerked his head up, colliding with yours. You jerked your head to the side, focusing on a fixed point on the ground.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and decided it was best to go back to piloting manually, so you wouldn't have to deal with that situation.

You returned to the controls, and you were so focused on the scene in front of you that you didn't notice him coming closer until he was behind you.

He leaned forward, placing his hand on the unusable panel to your right, causing you to be trapped between the controls and his body.

"How much longer until we get there?" He asked in a whisper

You tried your best to focus on answering, and not on how the smell of wet earth and sweat reached your nostrils.

"I guess about twenty minutes," you murmured, swallowing hard. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he smiled. "Then we have enough time."

"What for?" you asked, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

"I've seen the way you look at me, dorogoy," he whispered in your ear. "You've been doing that for quite some time." He smiled. "Did you think I wouldn't notice how your heart races every time I'm around?" "He murmured."

"Sergei… I… I don't know what to say…"

"You don't need to say anything, darling," he smiled. "I'll do all the work." He gestured to the controls with his head. "Put the autopilot on," he whispered before walking away, giving you a couple of minutes to breathe

"You pressed the autopilot button and turned to face him again. His blue eyes studied you intensely, as he patted his leg. He raised an eyebrow and gestured for you to come closer.

"Come here, Printsessa," he murmured, and you almost moaned when he brushed his hair back, making you focus again on his long fingers. "I promise I won't bite, unless you want me to," he added with a mischievous smile

You walked over to where he was and tentatively sat on his lap. You could feel the strong muscles of his legs against your skin.

His hands rested on your hips with equal parts delicacy and possessiveness, causing you to focus your gaze on him without making eye contact, dying of embarrassment.

"Look at me, prekrasnyy," he whispered gently. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," he murmured, holding your face in his hands. "It's just you and me here," he reassured you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just that I…" you swallowed hard. "I've never…"

"It's okay, baby," he murmured, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. "I'll go slowly, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded nervously. He could see your anxiety reflected in your eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" "He whispered, and you almost gasped when he did so, his voice now dangerously husky and low.

"Yes," you murmured, still not quite believing what was about to happen.

Sergei closed the distance between you and gently placed his lips on yours.

A small sigh escaped your lips as he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

It may have been the first kiss you'd ever had, but you knew you'd never get another one like that again.

He pulled away to look at you, asking if he was being too rough with you, but when he saw your rapid breathing and dilated pupils, it was answer enough for him.

He tightened his grip on your hips and pushed you forward slightly, against him.

The curve of his cock brushed against your most sensitive part, drawing a gasp from you that made him smile.

"You… you're so…" You blushed as you remained silent, but he wanted you to say whatever you were thinking. "So what, dorogoy?" He whispered. "Tell me the thoughts that are going through that beautiful head of yours."

You swallowed nervously before answering.

"It's just that y-you're s-so… big and-and s-strong, and I…" You blushed all the way to the roots of your hair. "I feel so small compared to you."

"I see," he murmured, giving a half-smiled smile. "And you love it, don't you?" He whispered, slipping his fingers under your shirt very slowly. "You like feeling small when you're with me, is that it?" You nodded shyly, not believing you'd just confessed one of your biggest secrets. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he murmured. "You're so beautiful it hurts to look at you."

"It's not true," you shook your head.

"Of course it is, I would never lie to you," he assured, staring at you. "I know you're not ready to go all the way," he said. "I can see it in your body posture, and in the sparkle in your eyes," he whispered. "And that's okay. Do you know why?" You shook your head. "Because the fact that you peeled back so many layers in front of me, that I could kiss you and touch you like this, is enough."

"That's… very kind of you," you whispered on the verge of tears. "I can't say that about other guys who almost happened to you."

"Did they hurt you?" "He asked. You remained silent, and Sergei knew you were hiding something from him. "I'm going to kill them," he growled. "Whoever it is, I'll track them down and kill them with my own hands."

Unable to do anything else, you laughed as you held onto his shoulders and he stole another kiss from you.

And there, in his arms, you thought that life might not be as bad as it was sometimes made out to be.

[rahiwatching]

The OTHER major transport system of Le-Metru

We all know that the chutes are the primary system of transport in Metru Nui, with others also being in place such as Ussal carts, Vahki transports and airships. But in looking over Le-Metru based videos and key visuals from 2004, I think I’ve found another one. One that is so prolific that it appears in almost all visual media depicting Le-Metru (outside of LoMN), and yet, as best as I can tell, never makes an appearance in any of the books.

Take a look at these images of Le-Metru:

As well as the usual cylindrical chutes, there are also flat, raised platforms with what appears to be cargo loaded on top of them. The support structure of the platforms have the same green colouration as the rest of the Metru, but the channel in which the cargo sits has a silver tinge.

In Matau’s character video (best viewed in the high quality version on the BioMedia Project, as the shots that linger in one place long enough to view these platforms in detail only have them in the background) you can see if you look at these platforms specifically that they move the cargo quite quickly across their surfaces - not as fast as a chute, but still pretty quick.

At first I thought these might be a raised version of the canal system with the silver colouration being the liquid protodermis, however I quickly rejected that as this depiction of a canal in Po-Metru showed that the visuals do not match up, with actual liquid protodermis looking far more like water and the silver parts of these platforms appearing to be solid and probably metallic.

So - best guess as to what these actually are? I think they are conveyor belts.

At the height of Matoran life in the city just before the Great Cataclysm, these probably held the niche in the transportation network for cargo that was too delicate to go in the chutes, but still needed to get where it was going on a much shorter timetable than an Ussal cart, canal boat or airship could provide.

I imagine that these were in fact an older technology than the chutes and may have in fact been their predecessor - a quick, efficient transportation network that criss-crossed Le-Metru and possibly the rest of the city too. One that might well have been used for both cargo and public transport (though likely with some sort of enclosure to keep the Matoran safe in transit… basically a train where its the track thats moving) until the chutes came along and cut their use back to the aforementioned niche.

Speculating some more for fun, I’d imagine that these were initially cog driven, looped belts (kinda like the ones in sushi restaurants) as that would keep with the clockwork style that a lot of Metru Nui tech is based around. Later on, the sections of belt might have been magnetically levitated and moved along the platforms (like if the base of a maglev train ran the entire length of the track in a loop, with cargo just placed on top of the flat, levitating surface) with that experience with magnetic technology being the starting point for what would eventually become the chute system.

[froggiequarium]

dyeing your hair ft. rafayel bc i just dyed mine earlier & imagine he'd be good at/willing to do it for u

-

"huh? is it supposed to look like this...?"

"it looks a little chunky.. did i do something wrong?"

you skim over the box dye and the small now-empty bottle before looking back at the bowl.

"lets just keep mixing it."

rafayel does as you say, taking the brush and mixing the dye together with the developer in the bowl. after about a minute, a light color begins seeping through the pearly mixture.

"oh, look!"

"guess that's a good sign," rafayel comments, still mixing.

"do your paints take this same amount of effort too?"

"hmm.. sometimes; depends on the color im trying to achieve."

you both watch as the mixture turns a deeper and deeper shade of red as the minutes pass while simultaneously becoming smoother and smoother.

"it looks so yummy..."

he glances over at you, eyebrow raised.

"did you not eat or something, cutie? i would've made something for you, y'know!"

"no its just— look at that and tell me you don't wanna sample it."

he looks back at the bowl of soft red and back at you.

"i don't think i wanna sample this." you huff a breath through your nose before he voices his reasoning. "doesn't it smell weird? is this how it's supposed to smell?"

"what do you mean? it smells amazing!"

"...you have some strange tastes," he comments before going back to slowly stir the rest of the chunks smoothly.

"anyway, as long as i'm here, you're not getting a lick of this."

"i bet it tastes like strawberries...."

"...you're so weird," he laughs, hand slowly coming to a stop.

"okay, its done, now what?"

"now to paint my hair!"

"oh, do you need your renowned artist fishie to do the honors?"

you're in the middle of clipping up a section of your hair when your eyes trail over to the gleam in his.

"do you really want to?"

"isn't that why you asked for my help in the first place?"

"well, yeah, but—"

"relax, cutie, and just trust me!"

"well, if you're sure," you point to your hair that's left loose. "then, start here at the bottom. my hair is kind of thick, so the trick is coloring in sections to equally distribute it."

he hums along, dipping the brush into the bowl of red and pulling it up to swipe over your hair in careful strokes to paint each section.

knowing how rafayel gets when he's in the zone, you don't make much conversation, simply humming along to the music playing in the background as you watch him delicately paint your hair through the mirror.

once he's finished with the bottom, you unclip some more hair, still keeping one section confined to your head, and he quickly gets to work on the next one.

a comfortable silence has enveloped you both, and as he paints, you can't help but feel slight doubt creeping into your mind, prompting you to break the quiet.

"rafayel?"

"hmm? yes, cutie?"

you hesitate for a moment, his eyes catching yours momentarily in the mirror.

"its just— do you think.. this color will suit me?"

a grin spreads across his lips as he dips the brush back into the bowl gathering more red.

"is that what you're worried about?" he moves it and begins painting a strand.

"i'm already almost done, don't tell me you're going to make me paint your head all over again." he's teasing you, and you can't help a small grin crack.

"well, its been awhile since i've dyed it last so i'm just worried..."

"well, if you ask me, i think anything looks good on you," he winks at you through the mirror. "or off, for that matter."

"rafayel!" he laughs and you let out a sigh before getting back to the matter at hand.

"aren't you biased? what if this ruins my look or doesn't compliment my skin tone, and you lie and tell me that i look great?" you cross your arms, pointed stare gazing at him through the mirror.

"ouch, do you doubt an artist's eye that much?"

you don't answer as he finishes the section. he unclips the next one himself, setting the hairpiece aside as he begins again, his soft voice breaking through the silence once more.

"to answer your question, i think it suits you perfectly, cutie."

his hand is gentle as it paints the stray strands of your hair, and you feel like you're one of his canvases being painted in his vision.

"you really think so?" you pause before your next question bubbles up. "you won't like it any less now that the color is changing?"

"since when do you care what i think?" he jokes.

"rafayel..." you whine.

he laughs before giving his actual answer.

"of course not. you could dye it every color under the sun and i'd help you every time, admiring the you in each different hue of the world."

you smile at his answer, heart fluttering in your chest.

sometimes, it slipped your mind just how romantic he could be at the most unexpected times.

"okay, it looks like i'm all done here, buuut it still looks like there's a good amount left in the bowl," he turns to you, an eyebrow raised.

"what should we do with the rest of it?"

"add extra to any empty-looking spots!" you smile, eyes trailing towards his pretty locks.

"...unless you want some highlights?"

he looks down at the bowl before smiling.

"hmm, i'll consider it for another time. right now, it's all about you, cutie."

you fall back into a comfortable conversation as he touches up some spots here and there, relaying your worry and excitement for the result.

rest assured, he couldn't wait to see the finished product of his work, either.

-

[sydwritess]

Monza Mistake

Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader

Summary: Kimi was having a good weekend in Monza until FP1, where he took a bad crash. After that, he changes, feeling like he lets everybody down.

First Person POV

Warning: swearing

Kimi was over the top, excited to race in Monza. He even invited his whole family to watch him race. Right now, I was standing near the fence, separating the track from the stands, watching Kimi drive around with his dad, holding a big Italian flag behind him.

They made one full lap around the track before pulling near the garages and getting out.

"Oh, Kimi, sono cosi fiero de ti quindi!" His mom said, running up to him and hugging him tightly.

"Grazie, mama." He said, hugging back.

"You are going to do wonderful son." His dad said, patting him on the back. His family went off, exploring the paddock.

Kimi stood there, his arms in his pockets, starring off into the abyss.

"You okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah. Just nervous." He said, sighing.

"Your going to do great. I get its nerve wracking." I said, he nodded. "For now, just focus on dinner with your family." I said, he smiled.

"I will. Are you going?" He asked.

"What? No, it's your family. I don't want to-"

"Please. It will be fun!"

"Okay, if you insist." I said.

"Yes!" He said, hugging me.

"Tonight at 6, at our house. My mother is cooking." He said.

"Okay, I will see you then." I smiled.

"Great." He smiled back. The rest of the day went normally, press all around. Pre-race interviews for tomorrow. Team meetings, the works.

"Will I still see you tonight?" He asked as we walked to our cars.

"Yeah, of course. I will see you there." I said smiling.

"Perfect, I can't wait to see you." He said.

"Your seeing me now aren't you?" I teased.

"You know what I mean." He said, laughing a bit. We both said our goodbyes. I had walked through the hotel, walking to my room, and I got ready for dinner. I put on black jeans, and a black crop top. I straightened my hair. Then I got my shoes and my car keys, and left.

I eventually got to Kimi's house. I barely got out of the car when I saw Maggie running down the driveway.

"Y/n! You came!" She screamed, wrapping her arms around me.

"Of course I did! How are you?" I ask, crouching down to her level.

"I'm better now that your here. Come on, I got a new game to show you!" She said, grabbing my hand and dragging me up the driveway.

I followed behind her through the door where.

"Guess who came over!" Maggie said with excitement. Kimi got up and came over to us.

"Wow, already stealing my girlfriend, yeah?" He said to Maggie.

"She likes me better anyway." Maggie said, pointing to herself. Kimi just laughed.

"How are you?" Kimi asked, stepping by Maggie to hug me.

"I'm good." I said, hugging back.

"Will you please play a game with me?" Maggie said, tugging my arm.

"She will Mag's let her step into the house, yeah?" Kimi said.

"Okay." Maggie said slowly. We went to the table and sat with Kimi's parents.

"Y/n, dolce! How are you?" His mom said, coming up to hug me.

"I'm good how are you?"

"Good, good." She said happily, sitting down across from me.

"Y/n! You need to try my brownies I made!" Maggie said, running to the kitchen. She ran back quickly holding the treat in my face.

"Oh, it's very good." I said, taking a bite of it.

"See I told you." Maggie pointed at her brother.

"Maggie why don't you go play in your room, si?" Marco said. Maggie went up to her room quickly.

"You could have said it was bad you know?" Kimi said.

"Awe, I didn't want to hurt her feelings." I backed. He laughed.

"Well, if she ever ruins pasta, she will no longer be invited to the paddock." He said, laughing. We talked more about the race.

Elisabetta went to go cook dinner, and Maggie ended up watching TV.

"This is so good!" Maggie said, melting into her seat when she took a bite of pasta.

"Your mother always does good. Part of why I married her." Marco joked. Elisabetta gave him a stern look. "And- and you are kind." Marco said, stuttering over his words. We finished dinner and it was almost time for me to leave.

"Y/n, you should spend the night." Maggie said, hugging my waist.

"I will see you tomorrow don't forget." I said, crouching down.

"Can I go with you?" She said, hugging me.

"I think your parents would be very sad about you leaving." I said.

"Okayy." She sadly said.

"Don't worry. You will see her at the track yeah?" Kimi said. Maggie went back into the living room.

"I think I lost you to her." He said, letting out a small laugh.

"Don't worry. She is cute and all but you still have me." I laughed.

"I will see you tomorrow." He said, giving me a hug goodbye.

"Yes, I will see you." I said, hugging back. Then leaving.

Me and Kimi were in the Mercedes garage, he was going over some last minute things with his engineers.

"Y/n! Y/n! Your here!" A voice said behind me. I turn to see Maggie entering the garage.

"Hi Mag's!" I said, giving her a hug.

"I have to go. Will you see us later?" She asked.

"Of course I will. You be sure to find me okay?" I say.

"Oh I will." She said, then walked out of the garage.

"You ready?" I ask Kimi as he walks to me.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Excited." He said smiling.

"You'll do great. I'm sure of it." I said.

"Thank you." He said, he got pulled away by one of his engineers and got into his car, lining up at the starting line. Everybody got out, getting into their spots, and finally the lights went off. The drivers rushed off down the track fast.

Kimi was doing great. Around 10 minutes in, he started going fast around a turn and ended up sliding off the track, taking a hard hit to the barriers.

"Oh my god!" I said, looking at the computer in front of me.

"Kimi, you okay? Are you okay?" Wolff asked quickly.

"Fuck. Yeah. Fuck, sorry." He said

"Kimi, all good. All good Kimi." Wolff answered back. The safety car went out to the track. The medic team ran out to his car. Luckily he got out okay, but needed help walking. He reached the garage, people tried to talk to him but he just shoved them off.

He was in the medical center for a while, getting all sorts of tests done, I was in the hallway when I saw the doctor come out, shutting the door quietly.

"Excuse me, doctor." I said, he turned to me. "Um, how is he?" I asked quietly.

"He unfortunately has a concussion. But, breathing on his own." He said with a half smile. "He has asked for no visitors." He said.

"That's it? Why?" I asked.

"A couple of bruised ribs, but he is okay. He seems pretty shook up. All we can do is request his needs." He says, then walks by me.

I pull out my phone to text him, but my notifications get flooded with news articles.

'Kimi Antonelli crashes at home GP race.'

'Kimi Antonelli has a big fallout in Monza GP'

'Kimi Antonelli has a serious crash at the start of Monza GP'

"Jesus." I mumble to myself. I hear quiet footsteps behind me, turning around I see Kimi's family.

"Hi." I say quietly. "Um- he said, he doesn't want anyone with him." I said. All the sudden Maggie ran up to me, hugging me tightly while crying.

"Oh Mag's, he's going to be okay. I promise." I said, crouching down and rubbing her back.

"Is he hurt?" She asked, her lips quivering.

"He's okay. He's just feeling a bit tired right now."

"Are you sure?" She asks, looking at me.

"I'm sure." I said, nodding. "Look, why don't you, go into the garage, maybe you can sit there while your brother rests." I said, she nodded and left with her parents.

'Are you okay? Do you need anything?' I text Kimi.

'No.' He types back.

'Just, let me be. Tell my parents I'm fine.' He types. I nod to myself. I sat down on a bench in the hallway, leaning my head back against the wall. I sat there for a good thirty minutes, doctors running in and out of his room.

Once the doctors all left the hallway, I went into his room quietly.

"Kimi?" I say, seeing him laying face down on the bed. I walk over and put a hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He shakes his head no.

"Do you want your parents to come in?" I ask.

"I can't- I can't face them after... after what I did." He said, his voice breaking.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was out of your control."

"I let them down." He said, there was a moment of silence.

"There worried about you. Especially Maggie."

"I can't. It will hurt her to much." He said.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay with you?" I asked. He nodded. We sat there in silence, his heart monitor beeping. We didn't talk, just sat there. Which was all he wanted. Doctors came in and out again for another good thirty minutes, before Kimi spoke up.

"Are they disappointed in me?" He asks.

"No, they are worried though."

"I don't care about that. It was my home race." He said, he flips over so he's lying on his back. I saw his tear stained pillow.

"Oh baby. It's okay." I said, lightly hugging him.

"I just can't believe I did that." He said, crying on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay. I swear."

"Do you think they could face me?" He asks.

"They could. I think Maggie is most worried about you." I said.

"Can you get them?" He asked. I nodded, and waked out into the hallway, walking out to the Mercedes garage.

"How is he?" Marco asked first.

"He's better, sad." I said, they gave me a look. I sighed. "He's worried you are disappointed in him." I said slowly.

"Oh my." Marco said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We would never be disappointed." He said quietly.

"That's what I said."

"Can we go see him?" Elisabetta asked.

"You can, he actually asked if he could see Maggie first. If that's okay." I said. They both nodded and me and Maggie walked down to the medical center.

"Okay, a few things before we go in." I said, standing in front of the door. She nodded. "You can hug him, if he wants, but just try not to touch him. He's in a lot of pain." I said, I noticed she starting tearing up.

"Oh honey it's okay." I said, hugging her. She latched to me like she wanted me to carry her. "Want me to carry you?" I asked with a smile. I felt her nod. I lifted her, and walked slowly into Kimi's room, shutting the door behind me.

"See? He's okay." I said, she started crying more. "He's perfectly fine Mag's, look." I said, bringing her closer to the bed.

"Mag's there's no need to cry. I'm here." Kimi said.

"You scared me." She cried out.

"I'm sorry. I know I did amore." He said.

"Do you want to sit with him?" I ask.

"I don't want to hurt him."

"Okay, we can sit next to him." I said, pulling a chair next to his bed. siting her down on my lap.

"I'm okay. I promise." Kimi said in a whisper.

"Can you come home tonight?" She asks.

"I will. And when we get home we can lay on the couch and watch movies, yeah?" He asks, she nodded and wiped her tears away, leaning her back into me.

"And when your done with the movies, you can cook him some of your amazing brownies." I whispered. Maggie and Kimi got talking for a while, Kimi trying to cheer her up as much as possible.

"How about you go with mama and papa, go explore while you still can." Kimi said, reaching out for her hand.

"Okay." She said, getting up.

"Why don't you wait in the hall. I'll be right out." I said, she nodded and went out in the hall, closing the door behind her.

"I can't believe it." He said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I scared her a lot." He said.

"It's okay. She's better now. She knows your okay." I said, grabbing his hand.

"Thanks for coming to visit." He whispered.

"I always will." I said, leaning down to kiss him.

"I'll be back after I walk her out. Just, get some rest. Please?"

"I will. Thank you. I don't- know, what I'd do if you didn't come in." He said.

"Your welcome. You know I'm always here for you." I said. He gave me another quick hug. I then walk out, taking Maggie back to her parents.

After I went back to Kimi's room, and we spent the rest of the day talking, mostly reassuring him that everything is going to be okay.

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the tag list!