#and then i grew up in many ways and experienced many unfortunate things - as a kid who couldn't transition nonetheless

[uncanny-tranny]

r u chill w non transitioning ppl?

Why wouldn't I be? At one point, every trans person who is transitioning was once someone who wasn't (whether or not that was a choice or their need is a separate discussion).

Hatred of any kind of trans person is not a Righteous or Good Thing - every single trans person has their place, their entitlement to safety, community, and respect of who they are

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱

daughter of aphrodite! reader x luke castellan 💘

IN WHICH.. luke would carry the world on his shoulders for the approval of your mother

warning! this fic contains- like two cuss words // feminine reader // one slight reference to sex (lukes a virgin lolol) // not proofread (yet)

🎧- bewitched by laufey

3.3k

You had always been the favorite of your mother, Aphrodite. With the way she frequently delivered extravagant gifts, ranging from beauty supplies to carefully crafted swords, it was clear you were granted special treatment from the typically vain goddess. Others grew envious of your glorious relationship, watching from afar as you had yet another conversation with her. 

The unfortunate truth was that you worked your ass off to receive a fraction of affection from your mother. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready, biting your tongue as others gossiped about you, and training hours per day were just some of the cruel circumstances you had to endure in order to keep up your facade. Everything about you had to be seemingly perfect, which is hard to maintain when living in such harsh conditions.

Your ethereal beauty and charming personality gained the attention of many, making Aphrodite proud. However, no matter how many demigods asked you out, they were all politely declined. This wasn’t a personal choice, but instead one forcefully implemented by your mom. 

Every camper knew of the strange rule the goddess had set for you. Not one soul would be allowed to take you on a date without her approval. Unfortunately for you, she was extremely strict and harsh when choosing. It was odd that the ruler of love would prevent her dearest kin from experiencing the joys of having a partner, but the gods did little with rationality.

During your weekly prayer one evening, you found yourself pondering why Aphrodite seemed to reject all suitors. Seeking answers, you broached the subject with her. In response, Aphrodite professed a desire for nothing but the best for you, her words punctuated by the subtle shifts in her mood. Intrigued by her cryptic response, you couldn't help but remain curious, uncertain whether she spoke the truth or spun another detailed tale.

Among the crowd of diligent campers who showered you with attention, there remained one who truly stood out. Luke Castellan, the offspring of Hermes, had harbored a profound admiration for you from the moment of your arrival. While others were fixated solely on your captivating exterior, he found himself drawn to the depths of your enchanting personality. Your passionate expression for the things that ignited your soul—be it delving into the mysteries of ancient artworks or nurturing the vibrant flower fields—held him spellbound.

One day, the immense ache in his lovelorn heart became too agonizing to bear. As the sun awoke from its slumber and you elegantly devoured a ripe pear, he asked you to follow him into the lush forest. Despite the slightly sketchy request, you obliged, trusting Luke with your whole heart.

"I hate to sound blunt, but why are we here again?" You queried, batting away pesky flies and dodging branches that lunged out intrusively.

"I'm determined to take you out," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt creep in as you cringed with uncertainty.

“Luke, you know how my mom feels-“ 

“Yeah, I know how your mom feels. But how do you feel?” He blurted, his coffee brown eyes staring deep into yours, and for a moment, you saw the deepest part of him that was hidden from the rest of the world. 

“What’d mean?” You questioned him, trying to wrap your head around his statement, like it was a foreign concept for someone to ask how you perceived the situation.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Luke whispered.

“I’d love to, but she-“ His response was accompanied by a light shake of his head, his voice gaining intensity as he delivered his next sentence with austerity.

“Tell me the truth. If Aphrodite wasn’t your mother, would you date me?”

Silence flooded the woods; it seemed even the birds stopped singing to hear your much-awaited response. 

“Yes, I would.” You said it honestly, twiddling with your hands out of nervousness for your mother’s reaction.

“Okay then. I have a plan; don’t worry.” Luke interlocked your fingers, gently dragging you back to the pavilion with a grin plastered across his face.

As the day unfolded in its familiar rhythm, there was an intriguing twist: you found yourself stealing glances at Luke more frequently, your fondness for him blossoming rapidly. Anticipation brewed as you prayed for the success of whatever scheme Luke had concocted. Yet, the nagging suspicion of your mom’s disapproval gnawed at you, even if Luke was nicknamed the camp's "golden boy."

As dusk approached and dinner was served, the absence of Luke grasped your attention. The atmosphere lacked the presence of a couple other different Hermes offspring, too; the usual crowd at the wooden picnic tables was now missing. Brushing aside budding concerns, you settled beside your siblings, concealing any anxieties that threatened your composure.

You would have thought Hades took a visit to Cabin 11 with the way everyone was scrambling around. Dozens of clothes littered the floor, the room looking as if a freight train plowed through. Luke was in the center of the mess, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully examined his outfit options.

“A suit is definitely too much, right? I mean, I think it would be weird to go completely dressed out.” He started, with Chris standing next to him as they both pondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Ditch the suit.” His friend replied, tossing the crisp attire back into the closet. 

“So do I wear the camp shirt or something else?” Luke interrogated the rest of the children.

“Camp shirt.” Chris said, but another older female camper chimed in.

“Obviously not. It’s a disgusting neon orange.” She declared, rolling her eyes.

“I think it makes him look devoted to the camp.” Chris defended.

“Oh please, it washes him out. Try this navy blue top.” The Hermes girl tossed a crinkled polo at him, turning away as he slipped the shirt on.

Luke looked in the mirror, pleased with his choice. All of his peers stared at him in judgment before coming to the conclusion that the deep blue suited him.

“Told you. Now hurry up. You can’t miss dinner.” She uttered, shooing him out of the packed cabin. 

All eyes were focused on him as he walked to supper since he was out of the appropriate attire. He snagged his dinner, rushing to sit next to you. 

“Cute shirt. A little late though; dinner's almost over.” You complimented, and the rest of your fashion-inclined siblings nodded in agreement. Luke felt his cheeks flush from your words and because of the overwhelming stares provided by campers.

“Thank you. I’m not really hungry anyway." He responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. His stomach was doing cartwheels as he counted down the minutes until the burnt offerings. As soon as the sound echoed through the air, he practically sprinted to be the first.

He slid almost all his food into the metal tin can (which he would definitely miss later that night when he went to bed hungry) and, with shaky hands, lit the dinner. The aroma of multiple dishes mixed into one and then set on fire was putrid, but luckily for Luke, that’s just what he needed to catch the attention of Aphrodite.

As she heard the pleads of the boy, who was begging for a conversation, and smelled the smoke, it was enough to send her spiraling down onto Earth. She was gorgeous—ten times prettier than any image Luke could have pictured in his head.

“I'm Luke Castellan.” He stumbled out nervously, but recollected and gathered his thoughts.

“I want to date your daughter, Y/N.” He declared, noticing the way the goddess looked away with anger. 

“And before you say anything,” he continued, “I swear I have the best intentions.” 

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes, inspecting him.

“I don’t know. Many boys just like you have claimed the same.” She spoke to him with such clarity.

“It’s different; I can promise you that. I’m a good kid.” He pleaded, growing desperate as he swallowed.

“You aren’t sounding much different than the children before you.” She replied, and Luke could tell she was about to walk away, so he did what he thought was best and blurted out what came to mind.

“I’ve never smoked, I pray to the gods every night, and to be honest, I rarely step foot out of camp. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, and I’m the best swordsman in camp—at least that’s what everyone says. I’m still a virgin, and I’ve never even glanced at another girl in any romantic way because the only one I have eyes for is your daughter. Please, ma’am.”

Aphrodite's eyebrows lifted, and her mouth agape at his sudden speil. She had to admit that it was quite impressive.

“Hm, I suppose you have made a compelling argument. I’ll let you take her out on one date, but only if it goes well will you be allowed to see her again. And she must approve of you.”

Luke smiled at her, letting out heavy breaths he didn't even know he was holding on to. 

“Thank you so much. I can assure you, you won’t regret it.” He thanked the goddess, who just shrugged and left him in the dark forest. Too thrilled to care, he joyfully jogged back to the cabins, where his bunkmates patiently waited.

He shoved his way inside, panting, excitement bubbling within him. The air in the cabin seemed to crackle with anticipation as everyone turned their attention toward him, their eyes lit with curiosity, waiting for him to spill the details of what had transpired.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. Instantly, the air was filled with the sound of cheers and joyous squeals, his friends erupting into a wave of celebratory exclamations.

“Well, sorta. As long as the first date goes okay,” Luke added, his enthusiasm slightly dampening as he lowered his head, a hint of uncertainty tainting the original exhilaration of his announcement. The cabin fell into a sudden hush, a sense of disappointment crushing the once great news. 

“Then we better get to planning,” Chris interjected, lighting a spark of hope. Everyone returned to their primary delirium, huddling together to craft the picture perfect night.

Campers threw out ideas for the date on the spot, ranging from the location to his preferred mannerisms. His sisters used their experiences with being a women to instruct him on how to act, telling him what was considered acceptable and what to avoid. The rest of his siblings and friends scoped out the land, deciding on the perfect site.

After enduring the lengthy schooling, Luke stole a fleeting moment away from his lesson, his heart set on sharing the newfound momentous revelation with you. The bonfire raged on, campers swarming around it like hungry sharks. Old friendships were being rekindled, and new bonds were forming. Admits the social circle stood you, who laughed as you spoke to the Apollo kids.

With a grin that illuminated his features, Luke observed you from a distance, captivated by the infectious positivity that radiated from you. As you strayed away from the chaotic crowd, your eyes met his. His feet propelled him forward, drawing him towards you. 

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice filled with genuine excitement as he approached.

“Hey! Guess what?” Luke's words tumbled out in a rush, his eagerness present as he awaited your reaction.

“What’s up?” you inquired, intrigued by his anxious body language.

“Your mom said yes,” Luke revealed, his expression a mix of anticipation and restrained enthusiasm.

“What?” you gasped, disbelief coloring your features before giving way to unbridled joy.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, the thrill evident in his voice.

Excitement flourished within you, causing you to leap into his arms, angelic laughter filling the atmosphere as he lifted you up and spun you around. The cutesy scene hooked the attention of others, whispers beginning to travel.

Like a raging wildfire, Luke's announcement spread swiftly through the crowd, resonating with everyone within earshot. Within minutes, the joyous information spread through the gathering. Some were jealous, spreading rumors the moment they heard them, and some were just happy for the two.

Neither of you cared about the whispers and gossiping of those around you, their chatter fading into the background as you were enveloped in his warm embrace. The world seemed to melt away as he gently set you down, his touch lingering on your skin.

As you looked up into his eyes, time seemed to stand still, and the intensity of your love was reflected in the depths of his gaze. With each beat of your heart, you felt a surge of affection wash over you, your gaze softening as you looked upon him with adoration. There, in the depths of his eyes, you found comfort, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

"7 o'clock okay for tomorrow?" Luke's voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to the present moment. His words sent a tingle of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Mhm," you murmured in response, your mind still lingering on the warmth of his touch, until a daughter of Demeter called you over, disrupting the spell cast by Luke. As you tore yourself away, a shiver raced down your spine, the absence of his soothing hands leaving you feeling strangely hollow.

In the darkness of the night, neither of you seemed able to sleep with the thought of each other prominent in your minds. Remembering all of the special moments you shared, even before today, summoned a mixture of emotions. If this date didn’t go according to plan, the memories would be permanently lost, drowned out by new experiences.

Eventually, Hypnos blessed you with a night’s rest, and before you knew it, it was 6 p.m., an hour before the long-awaited gathering with Luke. Your siblings were currently helping you get ready in the vast space that was the Aphrodite cabin.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Urged your closest sister, her fingers deftly working through your hair as she leaned in.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you met her gaze in the mirror, uncertainty dancing in your eyes. "No, not really," you admitted with a sigh, feeling a knot of anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach as you nervously tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination as she dropped the task of defining your hair, her attention now fully focused on the impending dilemma. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly crossed the room to her bustling closet, the sound of fabric rustling filling the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

You watched her with amusement, as she rummaged through her collection.

With a triumphant exclamation, she emerged from the depths of her closet, a victorious smile gracing her lips as she presented you with a selection of carefully curated outfits. "I'm sure we can find something that'll work," she declared with confidence, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to lay out the options before you.

She presented you with a breathtaking spring dress, its delicate fabric decorated with teensy flowers. You ran your fingers over the dainty material, embracing its beauty.

"It's perfect," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper, as you marveled at the garment.

"I know, right!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious as she twirled around in delight. "This is so exciting! Your first date!" she continued, her words bubbling with enthusiasm as she continued to fuss over your appearance.

You attempted to summon a smile, but despite your best efforts, the flicker of unease in your eyes did not go unnoticed by your sister.  She gently squeezed your hand, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"What's wrong?" She questioned you softly, her hands pausing in their task of arranging your hair as she turned to look at you through the expansive vanity mirror.

"It's nothing, really. Just... anxious, I guess," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to find the right words to express the complexity of your thoughts.

"Hey, it'll go great. And if not, there's a long line of suitors out there waiting for you," she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding, "so I'm sure Mom would approve of at least one of them."

"But I don't want it to be them," you confessed, your voice shaky as you admitted your true feelings. "I want it to be Luke."

She slightly frowned, grabbing your head and leaning into you. You shut your eyes to block the tears, discovering a place of love in her arms. A sudden knock on the wood door interrupted the warmth of silence.

She hopped up with eager anticipation, practically skipping to the door to greet Luke. As she opened it, you seized the opportunity to slip into the closet and change into the dress she had requested.

Luke stood on the doorstep, his hands fidgeting with a bouquet of ethereal flowers, their petals shimmering in the sunlight. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes as he glanced around, searching for you.

"Uh, is Y/N here?" he asked, his voice laced with nervousness as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, she is," your friend replied, her tone firm, her gaze locking onto Luke's with determination. "But before you go any further, I need to warn you. You must take excellent care of her, no matter what. Because if you don't, I'll come find you personally."

“I promise.” He stuck out his pinky, interlocking it with hers to signify an agreement he would uphold. Stepping outside the cramped enclosure, you checked your reflection and headed towards the door. 

"Hi!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing out into the air, breaking through the awkward tension that had settled between the two of them. Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed as he turned to face you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips upon noticing your presence.

"Hey." He whispered softly, capturing in the sight of you standing before him, your captivating looks leaving him momentarily speechless. You smiled, threading your arm between his and escaping the cabin. 

"I brought you these." Luke stated, his voice tinged with admiration as he handed you the colorful floral arrangement. You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, the fragrance of the flowers filling the air as you gently wafted them in your hand.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, touched by his thoughtful gesture, "they're beautiful."

Lost in conversation, you continued hiking together, the winding path leading you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke had a destination in mind, his steps purposeful as he guided you along the trail . The scenery around you shifted, the dense foliage giving way to a small deserted landscape.

Atop the grassy bank, a thick picnic blanket lay spread out, its vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery that surrounded it. An assortment of fruits and treats adorned the blanket, ranging from juicy strawberries to decadent chocolates.

As you settled onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning your every movement, you couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before you. Stretching out into the distance was the icy blue lake, its surface shimmering in the golden light of the sun, which peeked over the horizon as if to witness the magic of the moment.

As the minutes flew by, the loud croaking of cicadas immersed and the sky gradually transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars.

Wrapped in Luke's arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries and uncertainties of the day melting away.

In that moment, as you lay together under the vast starlit sky, you felt a profound connection to Luke. A realization that filled you with a sense of joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Whether your mom approved of your relationship or not (spoiler alert: she did), it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were with Luke, and in his arms, protected from the surrounding cruel world.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[inkskinned]

one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.

in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.

disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.

desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.

in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?

we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.

except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?

and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.

to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."

this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.

in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.

the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.

and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.

some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.

the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.

we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?

"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.

there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.

[ruh--roh-raggy]

The Bunny and Her Big Scary Dog (Punk! William Afton x Fem! Reader)

Hello hello! More punk Will is finally here! I was having such bad writers block getting this update out, so sorry if it seems a bit staggered pacing wise and as I'm sure many of you know unfortunately time does not stop just because I want to sit down and write, so apologies for the delay. BUT! Now we have a new story with the big strong man, it's gunna be fluffy, it's gunna be sweet, we're going to get more scary metal man Will being an absolute SIMP for reader, it's gunna be great. I hope you enjoy, if you would like to be added to my rage list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: Some swearing, age gap (Reader is in her 20's Will is in his 50's), all fluff

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 2,745

“This definitely isn't what I thought you meant when you asked me to bring you home but I’m definitely not complaining.” Will smiles, leaning down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. You laid in a mess of tangled limbs in bed, Will’s arm wrapped around your waist as your head laid against his strong chest. You smiled as you listened to the steady beating of his heart, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the intricate lines of his tattoos that wound their way around his forearm. Will had noticed that as your weed fueled make out session on the hood of your car had died down your unwavering confidence was slowly replaced with anxious fidgeting. “What's on your mind, bunny?” He asks softly. “I can see something kicking around in that pretty little head of yours.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitating to respond. Embarrassment burned in your chest as you finally spoke up, “I know I act all tough and confident, but I… can we take things slow?” You whisper into the deafening stillness. His large hand was warm against your lower back, his thumb stroking the space soothingly. You were honestly a bit ashamed over the fact you asked to slow down, especially since you were the one who initiated the intimate moment between the two of you. Will was experienced, he knew what he wanted, you were still in the process of figuring that all out. Before your mind had the chance to wander about how you would somehow manage to mess this all up, how he wouldn't want to wait for you, he spoke up.

“Of course rabbit. We can move as fast or as slow as you want.” You rest your chin on his chest so you can look up at him, Will smiles at the way your eyes sparkle in the soft light. He cradles your head in his hand, his thumb tracing over the shell of your ear making you shiver. “Are you sure you're comfortable spending the night?” He asks softly. “We have all the time in the world, there's no rush.”

You nod, “I want to be with you, Will.” Your voice trembles as you speak. He carefully guides you upwards, letting your lips linger over his as his eyes scan over your face.

“How did I manage to win over such a pretty little thing like you?” You giggle, nuzzling your face against his neck to try and hide your flustered expression.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Will, but, this?” You make a vague gesture to his entirety. “Hot as fuck.” He chuckles, you smile in return, resting your cheek against his chest so you could still look up at him. “Not to mention you’re sweet, charming, funny, and honestly one of the most amazing guys I’ve ever met.”

“You know I still could be a murderer.” You laugh, rolling off of him, bouncing off the mattress slightly as you fall onto the bed. “I am just some random man you met at a metal show.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He places a soft kiss to your lips, you let out a content hum as your hands trail over the vast expanse of coarse hair that covers his broad chest.

“Coming from the man that holds me like I’m made of glass?” You tease with a wink.

“How could I not?” His large hand trails down your thigh, hiking your leg over his waist. Your face grew warm at the sheer difference in size between his body and yours. “You’re like a little doll, I’d hate to break something so small and fragile.” He smirks at your flustered state as he holds you close, your chin held between his thumb and finger as his warm breath bounces off your lips. You whimper softly as his thumb strokes along your jaw. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Get some sleep rabbit.” He cradles your head to his chest, the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of being pressed so tightly against him quickly lulling you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning cuddling a pillow to your chest, your face buried against it and you couldn’t help but smile as you inhaled the scent of Will’s cologne. You hear the sound of his footsteps padding up the hallway, the smell of breakfast food slowly filling the room. You sat up and stretched, a sleepy smirk spreading across your lips at the sight of Will carrying in two plates piled high with bacon, toast, eggs, and home fries. “Good morning rabbit.” You shiver at the sound of his gravelly morning voice.

“Good morning handsome.” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you look at him hungrily. Will’s shirtless form, sweatpants sitting low on his hips showing off his burly, muscular body. He hums as he pulls you into a kiss, smiling against your lips.

“I could definitely get used to this.” He chuckles against your lips, your arms wrapping around his strong shoulders as he effortlessly maneuvers you into his lap. “How did you sleep, sweet girl?”

“That was the best night's sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.” You giggle, letting him cradle you in his arms, dipping you back slightly as he trails kisses along your jawline. “You even went through all the trouble of making breakfast.”

“Well, I’ve been told before that I fall into the category of… oh, what are you guys calling it these days, a DILF?” You choked on your sip of coffee, sputtering and coughing through laughter as you set it down on the nightstand. “It only makes sense for me to cook breakfast for my girl.” He winks. 

“Thank you regardless.” You share a laugh. After breakfast Will left you to shower, you smiled as you padded back into the room to find a set of fresh clothes laid out on the bed waiting for you. The thick, soft T-shirt was warm against your freshly washed skin. You pulled in the pair of too long lounge pants, rolling them at the waist to shorten them but even then they pooled at your ankles. You wandered down the hall, your brows furrowing slightly as the sound of music met your ears. You headed downstairs, standing in the middle of the living room. Bright sunlight filtered through sheer cream curtains that hung in the windows, a warm breeze drifting in from the outside. Following the sound you made your way through the kitchen to stumble across a door that was left open by a crack. Pushing through it you found Will, sitting on one of his work benches in the garage, a small amp at his side and a sleek black bass perched in his lap. You leaned against the door frame, watching him with a small smile. He was too lost in his playing to even realize you were there, a deep, rumbly riff rattling its way through your ribcage.

“You really are full of surprises, huh?” His eyes snap up to you when you suddenly speak up.

“I guess you could say that.” He greets you softly, beckoning you over. He sets the base down, hopping off of his seat. He wraps his arms around you once you're within reach, your hands sliding over his chest as he rocks you side to side for a moment. “You know, my guitar could use some new strings. Would you want to take a ride into town with me today?”

You beam up at him as he asks, “I would love to.” You squealed as he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you back into the house to finish getting ready before you climbed into the passenger seat of his car. Will wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him as his lips find yours with ease. You let out a flustered giggle as he pulls away. Will slotted a cassette tape into the player of the old car, The Misfits blaring to life through the speakers. The entire way to your destination Will had you laughing, the goofier side of his personality shining through as he recounted his time as a gangly, awkward twenty-something year old in college.

“They had this pale, string bean with dark circles under his eyes and box dyed black hair, face full of metal, the whole nine.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder, attempting to cover up your laughing fit. “The judges were probably like what the fuck is this? What cemetery did they find this dumbass moping around in?” He chuckles along with you for a moment. “Then I went on to kick all their asses and that's how I became the ‘Collegiate Robotics Champion of Utah’ or whatever bullshit title it was.” He glances down at you briefly, a smile playing on his lips. “I can't get over how pretty you are.” Your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

“Oh, um, thank- thank you Will.” You stutter bashfully. You hesitantly mean forward, your lips pressing softly against his scruffy cheek. You pulled into the lot, a small strip mall of shops with the music store at the center. Will wraps an arm around your waist once you stand from the car, pulling you to him and placing a kiss to your head before taking your head and leading you towards the door. You trail closely behind him as you enter the music store, your eyes wandering the racks of different guitars that lined the walls.

“Mr. Afton!” The twenty something year old behind the counter calls out, giving the older man a casual wave. His blond hair curled out from underneath his beanie, an old Dead Kennedy’s T-shirt hanging loosely off his scrawny frame. “Got a new eight string that might interest you, pretty sexy, pretty cool.” He rambles off as the two of you approach. He shoots you a flirtatious smile once he notices you're at his side. “And who might this pretty little lady be? Your daughter?”

“That’s my girlfriend, chief.” The cashier pales at the realization. His mouth falls open to hurry out an apology but Will just waves him off. “Guess I don't look too bad for my age.” He jokes with a laugh. Will goes on to ask him for a couple packs of strings and to see that eight string he mentioned. “I thought he was going to throw up.” He remarks as he turns to you, making you laugh.

“You don't seem to realize how scary you are.” You giggle in response. “He just called you old and tried to hit on your girlfriend in one move, I'd probably throw up too.”

“I guess you have a point, sweetheart.” He chuckles. He lets out a long whistle as the employee carries out the guitar from the back.

“She is a beauty.” He remarks excitedly as he passes the instrument over the counter to Wil. Your cheeks grow warm as you watch his massive hand wrap around the extra wide fretboard with ease.

“How much?” The two chat while Will idly strums the guitar, even without being plugged into an amp you didn't miss the soft melodic tune he effortlessly played. “Fuck it, you sold me, I'll take it.” The case is retrieved from the back, the guitar safely tucked away for transport. Will shoots a wave over his shoulder as the two of you walk out. He slides the guitar into the back seat of his car before taking your hand and pulling you along to the other stores. You wandered around, laughing at all of Will’s jokes, both of you growing slightly flustered whenever he would steal a chaste kiss from your lips. You paused at one of the racks in the clothing store you had wandered into. Your fingers running over the deep blue fabric of a denim jacket that had caught your attention.

“How long have you had your battle jacket?” You ask as you look up at him.

“Since college, maybe even a little earlier.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, glancing down at the jacket before his eyes trail back up to you. “Why, want one of your own?” He asks with a smile.

“Well I can't keep stealing yours.” You wink.

“I don't know bunny, I'm hoping I get to see you in only my battle jacket one of these days.” He smirks down at you, chuckling at your flustered expression. “But if you want one of your own I'd love to help, I think I have some patches at the house you can steal.”

You sat on the floor across from Will, a shoebox full of old patches sat between you. “Oh, can I use this one?” You ask, pulling out a large black square with fat, red block letters that read ‘PUNCH MORE NAZIS’.

William beamed at your choice, “that's my girl.” His hand falls to rest on the top of your head. “Excellent choice, and I told you, use whatever you want.” He chuckles. Will holds a couple pins between his teeth, helping you orientate the patch how you want it before securing it in place to sew. “What's that look for?” He asks when he notices you studying him, a small smile on your lips.

“I just like watching you work, you're a lot better at this than I am.” You giggle.

“Well, I'm sure I've had a lot more practice.” He grins. “Come here, let me teach you a trick.” He situated you in between his legs, your back resting comfortably against his chest as he worked with the sewing needle in front of you. He makes a circle with the thread, wrapping it around the needle a few times before pulling it through, the thread eventually gathering into a perfect knot at the end. He walks you through his process for sewing on patches, carefully explaining to you the best way to stitch so you wouldn't stab your fingers, how to get through really thick patches, and how to secure your stitches without having to deal with all of the obnoxious knotting. He held you close, making you laugh, occasionally kissing your cheek in the middle of his explanation. “Damn, your jacket’s going to be even cooler than mine soon.” He chuckles. His face suddenly lights up as he gets an idea. “Wait here, there's something I want to give you.” He steals a kiss as he stands before jogging into the other room, he comes back a few moments later with his own battle jacket in hand. He smiles at you, hooking one finger behind a loose section of a patch and ripping it clean off. He hands it over to you, your fingers run over the dried paint, this was obviously a patch he made himself.

“Only posers die.” You read with a smile, your thumb tracing over the rabbit silhouette at the bottom. “I love it.”

“Now you can have a little piece of me wherever you go.” He winks, pulling you back into his arms as he returns to his position behind you. 

“You're acting like I'm not going to use my big scary dog privileges everywhere I go.” You giggle, squealing as Will nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

“Oh, I'm your big scary dog, now am I?” He responds with a laugh, the emphasis on the fact that he was yours bringing a smile to his face. “Well, I’m glad to know that I make my little bunny feel safe.” You lean up, capturing his lips with your own before turning back to the task at hand

You slid your arms into the too big sleeves, the new denim still stiff from lack of wear. You stood in front of a full body mirror, smiling as you turned slowly, seeing all the patches and progress you and Will had made on your battle jacket in just one day. “Do you like it?” You bound over to him, your body thudding against his as you slip into his arms.

“I love it, thank you for all your help.” He cups your cheek gently, his thumb running over your warm skin.

“Bunny?” He asks softly. You hum in response, your eyes glimmering with happiness as you gazed up at him. “Would you like to stay another night?”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll

[bihanspookies]

Which tekken ex!boyfriends would fuck you better than your new bf ever could?

I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind anon but!

Mentions of religious stuff in Claudio’s lmao

Anyway

HWOARANG HWOARANG HWOARANG

HWOARANG‼️‼️‼️

That man is cocky, arrogant, hot headed and it’s mainly one of the reasons you break up

But googly moogly it works so well in the bedroom bc he knows what he’s doing!!!

Sex with him was always an adventure bc no matter where you were, how short the session was, or how much pent up frustration he had he would ALWAYS make sure you came first. Your pleasure is his pleasure and seeing you cum would always more than likely careen him into his own orgasm.

Your new bf doesn’t give you the same thrill and you unfortunately find yourself comparing the way he fucks you to how Hwoarang would. He doesn’t tease you like Hwoarang would, doesn’t have that air of arrogance in his voice that you found yourself missing whenever you were having sex with your boyfriend and he certainly doesn’t have a motorcycle that he could fuck you on.

Victor Chevalier:

I SAID WHAT I SAID AND YOU WILL HEAR ME OUT.

First of all this hc post I did says enough

Second of all!!

Honestly why would you break up with him but you did in this scenario so.

Victor is an older man, like at least somewhere in his late 50’s early 60’s. Combine that with his looks, charm, wealth, and overall lifestyle it basically a recipe for the perfect man who fucks just right.

Older man are more experienced blah blah blah BUT VICTOR? It is very much true for him. He treated you with the upmost respect in and out of the bedroom!!!

Sure your new younger bf is nice and sweet but he doesn’t have the same charm as Victor! Doesn’t fuck the same way! There was something about fucking in the most expensive places ever while wearing the most fabulous silky robes that truly changed the way you viewed sex. Of course none of that is important but bc it was such an integrated part of Victor you grew used to it, used the fancy and lavish type of sex.

Claudio Serafino:

HOT TAKE

But I think he would be on this list.

You break up bc he’d be too dedicated in trying to eradicate all the evil in the world BUT! The moments he does spend fucking you?? God sent.

I think he’d be like Hwoarang in the teasing sense but not as cocky or arrogant about it. He’s so smooth and subtle about it that you don’t even realize he’s teasing, it’s sort of like a game of anticipation.

He can be very cocky and sarcastic when he wants to be though! The times he’s like that you better hold on tight because his teasing can be borderline a bit mean but you like it.

Also I’m not saying he would bring religion into the bedroom but he just might!

That sort of thrill of doing something taboo with someone who is actually an Exorcist?? Your new bf COULD NEV-ER👏.

He helps you discover kinks about yourself and is more than happy to dive further into them.

NEW BF COULD NEVERRRRRRRR!!

BONUS

Anna Williams:

Dommy mommy

That’s it that’s the tweet.

You think anybody after Anna would compare to her?? Hell no!!!! This woman FUCKS!!!! Toys, kinks, pushing limits, etc etc etc. She took you to new heights that you’ve never experienced and presented so many new things into sex for you that truly no one else is going ever top that.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

vile affection

concept: in which your guardian angel wishes nothing but misfortune for you—just to keep you. —momster

—a/n: well no one asked for a concept and I wanna post smth so here it is!! enjoyyyyy~

side note, i tried to be vague on what religion this story is referencing to so you yourself can implement your preferred beliefs, but unfortunately, catholicism still carried some weights in this one. sorry!! i tried my best dlfkfsdl

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied loved one(s) death(s), implied killing, heavy religious themes, grief, horror, body horror, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the guardian angel / the angel, the (unfortunate) priest

A piercing wail erupted from the depths of your throat as you crumbled to the floor, shrieking into your phone, “No, no, nonono! No!”

Not another one…!

Sobs wracked your body so hard the sounds emerged as tiny high-pitched squeaks. Tears blurred your vision to near blindness, distorting the colors into blobs of grey. Your breaths came so harshly they scorched your lungs.

Curling into a ball, you lost control and hyperventilated. With wild abandon, you pounded your fist on the cold tiled floor and released inhuman cries of agony. Something throbbed where your knuckles had split open, staining the hard ceramic surface with your blood, yet you felt nothing. Numbness drenched the overwhelming misery and panic, and your world creased its spinning.

They were gone—every single one of them.

Distantly, a voice, laced with sympathy, pleaded with you not to hang up the phone. Without hesitation, your battered hand moved on its own accord to end the call. You sat there, head between your knees, as you let the device to slip away to clatter and crack against the floor.

Now, there was nothing left, nothing but the hollowing emptiness that gaped deep within your pounding chest, where the love of your life had once filled and kept it warm. Memories of their smiles faded as tears stung your swollen eyes. Wheezing sobs continued to fill the room, oblivious to a strange distortion perching on your bowed back to comfort you.

The funeral was a somber affair, a closed-casket viewing attended by strangers. You remained quiet throughout the priest’s recitation of the psalms, disregarding the whispered condolences offered your way. It took every ounce of your strength not to jump into that casket and howl your grief.

“Poor thing…” one attendant murmured to another, “this makes it the fifth loss in this year alone, doesn’t it?”

The other attendant responded sympathetically, stealing a brief glance in your direction. Anger flared within you, only to fade just as quickly when you felt something brush against your bare neck; feather-soft, cold and intangible. You tensed.

This was not the first time you had experienced these strange sensations—these invisible touches. At times, it would gently trace down your skin, soothing like a caress on the back of your hand, or enveloping you like an embrace around your waist. But, it always felt as though it was petting you with a sharp, scalpel-like claw, sharp and unyielding. These sensations left behind only cold goosebumps and an increasing sense that something was extremely wrong.

Once, you thought it might be the ghost of your loved one—but even you knew such possibilities were ludicrous. It could be your mind breaking apart under the weight of so many consecutive tragedies; less than a year felt like a lifetime of pain. And, by certain, their touches had never felt so…disgusting and inhuman.

There were moments where the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and you heard the faint disembodied crooning, words too indistinct for you to understand. Yet, it vaguely resembled a demonic chorus, singing some eerie song. The lingering echoes, you thought, was just an auditory hallucinations brought on by intense grief.

The phenomena worsened each loss you suffered though. These unseen presences grew more persistent and suffocating, clinging to you like a shroud of darkness. Your instincts would scream at you to flee—but how could you escape from something you don’t even know was there?

Rubbing unconsciously where the invisible entity touched you, you remained in your seat, fixated on the casket. As you waited for the priest to conclude his prayer for the departed soul’s safe passage to the afterlife, you lifelessly watched mourners rising from their seats to form a line to pay their respects.

Your mind was numbed by both exhaustion and sorrow to even count them all.

After the attendants withdrew for the impending burial, the priest motioned for you to join him. A gentle—yet strangely tight smile formed on his lips, as he spoke, “Would you mind returning here after the burial? I’d like a word with you.”

You furrowed your brows at the priest's unusual request but nodded, your agreement barely audible. Whatever he had to say couldn’t possibly be more harrowing than the lonely hell you were enduring. Quietly, you promised to return.

After the burial, once the guests departed for the wake, you found yourself alone in the cemetery. An ache gnawed at your heart as you forced yourself to walk back to the ever-looming church. As soon as you stepped inside the holy building, something strange caught the corner of your eyes.

Startled, you pivoted to see what it was.

But, there was nothing there, just the endless rows of gravestones scattered across the green grass. Your muscles taut with unease, you shook your head and drew a deep, heavy breath. Your sanity was fraying to a snapping point, you thought to yourself.

The weighty doors thudded shut behind you, the sound reverberating thunderously throughout the silent sanctuary, nearly jumping you out of your skin. Following the abrupt noise, you heard a voice beckoning you to follow, as the priest shuffled his feet down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but to notice the nervousness in his steps.

Closing the distance between you, he ushered you past the archway and toward the altar of the church’s fallen deity. Lightheaded and worried at the haste and anxiety he displayed, you allowed him to lead you to a room in the rear of the sanctuary. Rashly, he locked the door behind you and stood there stiffly, pressing his ear against the wooden surface.

“Father…?” You glanced at him, fear swelling up at his odd behavior.

His shoulders tensed upon your hesitant voice and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with unmasked horror. Swiftly, the priest made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer. With a shuddering sigh, he returned his attention to you.

Before you could open your mouth to demand an explanation, he cut in with urgency.

“Tell me, my child, what do you know of the guardian angel?”

Perplexed, you blinked until his urgent words seeped into your mind. Swallowing thickly, you replied in a hoarse voice, stifling the swelling grief in your breast, “They are meant to protect and to guide you in the times of strife and tribulations.”

He fell silent for a moment, then parted his trembling lips, “Then tell me, my child, why has yours only destroyed? Why did it regard you with such a perverse gaze?”

“I…what?” You gaped, a cracked laughter escaping your lips in an unhinged melody.

Had this man lost his mind?

What could he possibly mean? How could this man assume that the loss of your family was the work of divine beings? How ridiculous—

But upon the stern and fearful look in his eyes, disbelief constricted in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming urge to flee coursed through your nerves, propelling your legs toward the bolted door. You were disrupted by a sudden yank on the collar of your shirt.

An inexplicable dread settled beneath your skin, as the priest forcefully dragged you backward with unexpected strength. Before you could voice your frustration and demand an explanation, the door buckled.

The wood splintered and the shrieks of a demon reverberated.

A scream pierced the air, laden with terror—but you couldn’t discern whose voice it belonged to. Was it your own? Or was it the priest’s? You remained uncertain, as you transfixed by the sight of something great and dreadful emerging from the sundered door.

An angel.

Except, to you, it was not.

Trenched in crimson, the mangled remains of rotten bodies hung from its many jagged wings. Countless eyes turned toward you, each radiating with worship and desire. A seam split on its featureless face, forming a broken maw that drooled with hunger. Its tongue, as dark as oil, swept away the spattered blood on its pure white skin.

Numerous arms reached out for you, each finger tipped with claws, glistening with something pungent. Its resonant voice echoed your name, tainted with the same twisted desire mirrored in their manic eyes. It repeated those three words, like a disturbing hymn.

I love you.

Blood roared in your ears and fear seeped through your body, paralyzing you. You couldn’t move, your vision obscured by a sudden cascade of tears. Disgust churned within you, sickening you to your very core.

You couldn’t even discern the abrupt swing of one of its arms, releasing the lifeless body from its monstrous sword, as the abomination closed in. A flurry of limbs encircled your shivering form, some caressing while others coiled around your spine.

Its’ many eyes blinked at you and its rotting wings fluttered, its grinning face lovingly nuzzled yours. Against your ear, it moaned its proclamation.

I love you.

The slithering tongue smeared across your lips in a parody of kisses. Your skin crawled at the way it touched you, its embrace suffocating, yet sickeningly gentle. Its affection for you was vile. Unwanted.

Your hands beat its armor weakly, attempting to fend it off, and its crooning changed into something sharp and incensed. Snarling, frustrated that it was unable to indulge itself into its unholy pleasure with you, it grabbed your hands and held them tightly.

Sobbing, you knew you would never be able to escape. Desperate to appease it, your voice rasped out from your dry throat,

“I…love…you…too.”

Its painful clenches softened upon your trembling words.

Love swelled within those golden irises.

—end

[maeljade]

Alright, you all asked for it to be put to text so I shall give you all the Mael lore and backstory! With occasional annotations to explain decisions!

Firstly, a short introduction for those not familiar with her! She is an Au Ra Xaela and if you'd ask her she'd say that she is of the Dotharl.

Her actual story and history is a tiny bit more complicated then that. Born to a small, peaceful tribe (*1) she grew up relatively well, learning hunting, reading and writing during visits to Reunion and learning to herd the animals of her tribe. As she became a teenager she was deemed old enough to travel to Reunion alone to trade for some items her tribe required-

On her way back from Reunion she saw several animals of her tribes herds running away from their encampment, with smoke billowing out of it. Rushing towards it she found naught but death and destruction, with her family either slain or nowhere to be found(*2). Searching the entire encampment the only thing she could find was a dagger with her name engraved upon it, which her parents had planned to give to her as a birthday gift and marking her as a full member of the tribe once she returned from Reunion.

Falling to despair she mourned her tribes fate until she heard the sounds of people approaching. Hiding in the ruins she watched as a group of blue clad Xaela approached the village and explored it. Blinded by her grief she thought them responsible for the destruction she decided to claim vengeance and ambushed several of them as they explored the ruins, knocking them unconscious. She succeeded at these attacks until she tried to jump their leader, a young woman only a few summers older then herself. Unfortunately for her this young Xaela was Sadu Dotharl and she saw herself outmatched and quickly defeated and disarmed.

One of the men that she had knocked out had since recovered and demanded they kill her for embarrassing and defeating him in an ambush. As he moved for the kill Mael defiantly spat in his face, awaiting a blow that would never come. Impressed by her bravery in the face of death and the strength she had shown in her ambush Sadu had stopped his blade before it could touch her and instead offered an arm towards her, congratulating her on a fearlessness of death befitting a Dotharl and offering Mael a place with them. From that day forth Mael was known as one of the Dotharl, a brave young fighter who looked up to and aspired to be like Sadu in all things.

The next few years went by without many things of importance happening until Mael was sent to Bardams Mettle to become a full warrior of the steppes and to join the Dotharl in the next Naadam. Clearing the first challenge with ease, she arrived at the Tests of Bardam. Seeing the falling star something inside her broke free and she collapsed unconscious, beset by visions, sights and memories. Places she had never visited, people she didnt know, events she never witnessed. In these visions she saw faces she was certain she had never before seen yet their names of these people were at the tip of her tongue, places that did not exist in the steppes she had never left but she knew what would happen next anyways. Plagued by these dreams she was found several days later by a group of Dotharl who had come in search of her, returning her to Dotharl Khaa and caring for her.

After a short while she made a full recovery, recounting what had happened to Sadu and saying that ever since the trial she had heard a faint voice calling for her to travel westward and explore the world. Looking into her eyes and soul Sadu declared that Mael had a Travelers Soul, yearning to see the wider world and decreed that she should follow her souls desire, the visions she had experienced her previous lives memories and guide.

After some preparations Sadu and the Dotharl wished her farewell and Sadu commanded her to grow strong on her travels and to show her strength by challenging her once Mael returned from her travels.

And thats Maels backstory, what happened before the games begin and how she came to Eorzea! Thank you all for reading and if you have any questions I will happily answer them!

[yuseirra]

ONK Relationship Parallels- an Analysis!!

In short, in terms of the Aqua-Kana and Kamiki-Ai relationship, it's actually Kamiki who's similar to Kana in that relationship while Ai is to Aqua.

Also, out of the twins, Ruby is the one who resembles the dad in many ways in terms of psychology and behavior, even compared to Aqua. Aqua is the one who takes after Ai in many situations and I find it really clever... they do take after both their parents, of course. But I think their base personality is that the daughter takes after the dad while the son takes after the mother.

I wrote about that aspect today! I think it's really interesting, so I'd like for you to read it!

While skimming through the "Oshi no Ko" manga, I found something really interesting:

If we try to compare the relationship between Kamiki and Ai to Aqua and Akane's relationship, it's pretty straightforward that Kamiki is in Aqua's position and Ai is in Akane's position. (To some extent, Akane has the feeling of wanting to protect Aqua, to take care of him, and to hope that he lives well.)

But if we compare Aqua and Kana's positions, it's surprisingly Kana who is in Kamiki's position, and Aqua who is in Ai's position. There are subtle parallels between them (an attempted/experienced sexual exploitation by an older person—though I'm not sure if this was intentional; the side who received a meal during a date (and Ai-Aqua being the one who doesn't usually dress up but does so for the occasion); the desire to be noticed by the other person—if we consider Fatal as Kamiki's song, there's a recurring theme of "look at me" in the lyrics, and that song is indeed associated with that character!! Kana is all about wanting to have Aqua look at her too; receiving praise from the other person for being "shiny"). And, of course, Kana received quite a bit of help from Aqua. However, just as Kana occasionally does so for Aqua, the idea of "pulling someone out of the darkness" fits Ai’s role concerning Kamiki.

Also, among the twins, I’ve had a vague sense that Kamiki’s personality resembles Ruby's more than Aqua's.

After reading Volume 13, that feeling grew stronger. Kamiki’s past is extremely tragic, and he brings misfortune with him. People around him die a lot. There’s something tied to the divine, perhaps? If you carefully read the manga, several comments hint that something is up with Ruby. If one of the twins is born with the talent of being a "star" and is befitting to be one, it would be Ruby. Regarding this, Kana feels an inferiority complex about Ruby, and Memcho also mentions there’s something special about Ruby. When Ruby decides to become popular, she draws everyone’s attention instantly, and even Miyako doesn’t doubt Ruby’s potential to rise. If someone was chosen by the gods out of the twins, it would be Ruby... Though it’s a given both were chosen. It does seem that both Kamiki and Ruby have some divine connection. They both lived extremely unfortunate lives, with people around them dying, while they survive. When it comes to them, events unfold in ways too peculiar to be mere coincidence. I feel like Kamiki's being cursed by a god while Ruby could be being favored by one, but the one cursing Kamiki might also be "blessing" him in an unpredictable way? Anyhow he's tied to "a star that ruins lives" if we take what Fatal is saying at face value- and I think we actually CAN at this point. Stars are so important in this series.

Ruby’s line, "I only bring misfortune,"(CH 121-122) is something Kamiki could likely say as well (if you look at that character’s life, it really seems like he drags misfortune along with him). Kamiki never mentions his family, nor they have any appearance in the plot which suggests that, like Sarina’s case, even if he had a family, he was completely neglected. (Their kid’s going through things, but what are his parents doing..?); the idea of working hard for years out of a desire to see someone again (if "Mephisto"/"Fatal" is indeed that character’s song); the longing to be loved...

If Ai were alive and they figured it out the way Aqua reveals it to Ruby, this character might have broken down and cried like Ruby did... The same could be said for Aqua, though.

Ai has a firmer personality, while Kamiki has a softer side. Even when Ruby turned dark, she couldn’t actually harm others. In that case, how broken could Kamiki be? It feels like he might have been indirectly involved in things rather than directly. If Ai were alive, she probably would’ve somehow prevented him from walking down a path that didn’t suit his nature (and from what I sense, she did ultimately defend him from completely going down that path through the video she's left). When Aqua shows the keychain and says, “This doesn’t suit you, so I hope you give up on this path,” Ruby immediately returns to having the white star eyes again. This is similar to how Kamiki pulls himself together after watching Ai’s video after the movie arc. The effect is almost instantaneous for both Ruby and Kamiki. Of course, if seeing that didn’t change his mind in such a way, it would’ve been ineffective in the first place...

Ai’s way of dealing with situations involves hiding her feelings... Though she smiles brightly, she kept a distance and hid things deeply. On the other hand, Kamiki pretends there’s no darkness, acting as if everything is bright, and approaches others cheerfully. This resembles how Aqua and Ruby deal with things, in that respective order. So, there’s definitely a part of Aqua that takes after Ai and Ruby that takes after their father.

(clarifying this after an inquiry: Ai and Hikaru's very similar in that they form masks and pretend they're happy and fine- that's what drew them together and it is what they share in common. The details about it are a bit different though. Ai grows distant to people while Hikaru wants to get attached to people. In terms of attachment theory, Ai leans more on the avoidant type and Hikaru is the anxious type. So Ai forms a mask to appear as if "she's okay" but fails to rely in others when she needs it- whereas Hikaru does that to receive love and affection to fill his emptiness. That's how he keeps approaching others but gets used up and exploited whereas, nobody in B-Komachi could become so close to Ai, nor have anyone really understand her and feel she was mysterious and secretive. In terms of this, the way Aqua and Ruby act parallels them. Aqua avoids letting others learn behind his mask and keeps his distance to keep them and himself from getting hurt, whereas Ruby tried her best to be a good child when she was Sarina. She was attached to her mother and craved love the way Hikaru was towards people.

+Amaterasu is the sun goddess, and I found that Sarutahiko, the husband of Ame-no-Uzume, was a native sun god worshiped in the region before Amaterasu. As the influence of the faction believing in Amaterasu grew stronger, Sarutahiko’s influence diminished, and he gave up his position. So, Ruby and Kamiki are both connected to the sun. The description of Sarutahiko having a shining body in their legends seems to be a remnant of being a sun deity. Kana is also compared to the sun, and as mentioned earlier, when comparing Aqua-Kana and Kamiki-Ai, Kamiki often corresponds to Kana’s position. Even their names start similarly with "Ka"- Kamiki and Kana, and "A." Aqua and Ai.

++ Aqua’s pattern of intentionally distancing himself from those he cares about (continuously pushing Kana away, trying to distance himself from Ruby) is similar to what Ai did with Kamiki. Kamiki also misunderstood and thought Ai didn’t like him, that he wasn’t needed like everyone else, and was hurt and saddened. That's really similar to the way Kana thought about Aqua although they made up pretty fast. While Kamiki and Aqua share similar thought processes, Aqua resembles Ai, and Ruby or Kana resembles Kamiki in the way they handle situations and the emotions they experience. It's fascinating and clever if you think about it.

There seem to be a lot of parallels. If this was done intentionally, the author is really smart...

There’s a lot to uncover in this manga if you look at it carefully. I think this manga is best read all at once in volumes. Then, surprisingly, the structure doesn’t seem bad at all. The author must have had a lot of thoughts in mind...

Tsukuyomi’s family also doesn’t seem to be very good, the way she briefly describes how they aren't so normal in CH127 and Ai and Kamiki’s family environments were the worst, weren’t they?

It makes me think that the families of gods or those possessed by gods turn out to be miserable. Do their families have a hard time accepting them for some reason? Maybe because the essence of these children is far from ordinary? In my opinion, the lyric "(Ai is the) reincarnation of the brightest star" wasn’t just thrown there. The English version of IDOL also mentions Ai being the "brightest star reborn indeed", "the brightest star is residing in you(Ai)" and Kamiki is probably similar to her in aspect… I think those characters' true essence is divine. The mythological elements fit together too well.

Maybe when Tsukuyomi selects souls to reincarnate she picks those with unfortunate family backgrounds for this reason? So many thoughts come to mind.

It doesn’t seem like these traits are mere coincidences.

+Based on the songs and subtle hints, it really seems like Kamiki was REALLY planning to die, but stopped after hearing Ai’s words…

Even though the hints are vague, does this character really have any reason to want to continue on living in the first place?; It feels like he was planning to do something related to Ai and then die, but after hearing Ai’s words, he couldn’t go through with it because Ai wouldn't want it. It seems like he stopped immediately and came back… That's... really sad.

The manga doesn’t show exactly what happened, but I think Ai probably did something for this character that’s very similar to what Aqua did for Ruby or what Kana did for Aqua (I don’t think it could be anything else).

Whether they’ll show this in the story or just gloss over it... I doubt it will be the latter, right?;; I really need them to depict this if they're going to throw songs like Mephisto and Fatal out there. I'm WAITING...

There's another analysis I wrote regarding WHY Ai contacted Kamiki through the phone booth but also reacted a bit harsh to the idea of reconciling: I wrote another post about it earlier, but I'll do it again!

It’s really important that Ai was the one who contacted her boyfriend first. I’m not sure if others think the same way I do, but the fact that this character reached out shows just how much she trusted and liked her boyfriend. I pointed this out even before Chapter 154 came out, WAY before, when I wrote my first analysis about her character. If she didn’t like him, she could’ve just continued to stay away. And it turns out that she didn’t contact him because she liked him too much—she disappeared because she didn’t want to be a burden. So, if she didn’t care for him/or cared about him- either way, she could’ve just stayed out of touch like she had, but why did she decide to reach out?

In short, it’s because she heard the kids talking negatively about their father. It wasn’t just because she was worried they were getting some bizarre ideas like her giving birth all alone without the dad(although that could have been part of it). Letting the father know about the kids and bringing him into their home was a risky move from Ai’s perspective. After all, she was calling a man she had parted ways with years ago into a home where it was just her and her two little four-year-olds. It would be difficult to handle any unexpected situation in such a state.

But Ai wasn’t worried about that at all.

Ai had a good understanding of Kamiki’s personality. She probably has way more information than the readers do, having spent so much time watching and living with him. So, the Kamiki Ai envisioned wasn’t someone who would ever harm her or her precious, carefully hidden children in any way.

On the contrary, Kamiki was someone she wanted to show the children to, someone she hoped could clear up their misunderstandings. When Ai talks about Kamiki, you can tell she really, really, really loves him. I know that’s true. It’s definitely true. The words that come out of her mouth is SO strong. You can't say things like that unless you find the other person so endearing, especially with someone who was deeply hurt by people by the way she was.

She thought it wasn't good for her kids to have a negative reaction when they think of their father, or to say things like “there’s no such thing as a man” when he’s mentioned.

Ai knew her kids were smart and figured they would get along well with their father if they met him. She thought they would accept each other well, and that Kamiki would like her bright kids too, so she contemplated it and then decided to call him, feeling it would be the better option.

If you think about it, back when they first met, Ai invited Kamiki into her home right away. She wasn’t wary of him at all… she treated him very differently from others. And nothing bad happened at that time either.

The conclusion we can draw from this is that Kamiki, in normal circumstances, could never harm Ai or the children. That character just can't do something like that, it's NOT his nature. Even though he was young, he would have turned out to be a pretty decent parent.

But why didn’t they stay together? Because a scandal would’ve hindered Kamiki’s future.

I noticed Ai only completed junior high school... It seems she dropped out after having the children... That’s heartbreaking.

Did Kamiki continue going to school?; Anyway, at that time, they were both still very young—neither of them had even turned 20. If they had officially gotten together, it would’ve attracted a lot of attention. Would it have just looked like they were dating?; Japan seems to frown heavily on idols being in relationships, right? I suppose it’s the same in other countries too?;

Ai left thinking everything would be fine as long as they weren’t linked to him, then raised the children on her own till that day. She eventually ended up contacting him again, however, to resolve the misunderstandings their precious children had about the dad... If they had gotten back together at that point, it would’ve made their breakup meaningless… I think that was what was going on her mind. She can't give the answer he wants and say they can get together in that situation. But she still wants to show him the kids. You have to think about that. It didn't occur to Kamiki either, and Aqua's "revenge"... well, I guess that's about him having missed her intent on that aspect. It's not entirely Kamiki's fault, Ai's really blunt about a lot of things and it backfires in a terrible way... but what she says can mean more things than one, it sometimes has more than what can be taken the way it's said in a direct sense. Ai is really caring. And she was really loving. "The god who loves people" is definitely linked to her in some way...

[lvlywngs]

Hey I’d like to request a jealous Kylian imagine please:)

jealousy, jealousy ♤ kylian mbappe

summary: while out for dinner with some old friends, kylian realizes that the persistency of one of them rivals his. especially when it comes to you.

warnings: angst if you really squint, tension, suggestive, cursing in french, lowercase intended, not proofread

the sound of cutlery and voices buzzed across the parisian restaurant as its dim lights blanketed the scenery, causing a particular glow to emit off of everything. you and kylian were out for dinner with some old friends, hoping to catch up with one another. one however, seemed a little too fond of you and did nothing to hide it as he shamelessly ogled you. but his eyes weren't the only ones lingering. unbeknownst to you, kylian had been keeping an eye on him as well. as the drinks were slowly brought out, you felt yourself ease into the conversations your friends were having. as time went on, you felt those same eyes on you.

“can i help you?” you asked.

his eyes widened ever so slightly at your words before smugness overtook his face. he slowly shook his head, almost in mocking, before he let his eyes drift away from you. unfortunately for him, this didn’t go unnoticed by kylian. you look over at him to see him shooting daggers at his friend over his champagne flute that he brought to his lips earlier. taking a quick sip and placing the flute back down, kylian quickly cleared his throat before redirecting the conversation.

you knew this meant kylian was irked by his friend’s behaviour. the conversations flowed smoothly for the next few moments before his friend decided to persist with his pestering and fleeting glances. you felt yourself grow irritated at him as you too shot daggers in his direction. you weren’t used to this kind of persistency, aside from kylian’s.

“kylian,” his friend started, “how’s life treating you?��

“just fine.” kylian muttered through tight lips, an unamused expression on his face.

you knew kylian was growing more and more agitated with every second that passed, shown by his short replies and the bouncing of his leg under the table. you brought your hand over to rest upon his thigh, smoothing your thumb over his dress pants as a way to ease his nerves. at that, he placed his own over yours, bringing it up and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles before a scoff was heard from across the table. your heads whipped to where the sound came from and soon realized it was made by kylian’s friend. you wanted to roll your eyes at his behaviour, but settled on pursing your lips instead and hoping he’d grow up and stop on his own.

“can’t you two keep your hands to yourself for one night?” he asked incredulously.

your mouth hung open in slight bewilderment, as did kylian’s. you both were in disbelief, not only at his immaturity, but his inability to mind his own business. letting out a humourless laugh you looked over at kylian, watching as smoke practically shot out from his ears in anger. you knew kylian was jealous, and he wasn’t immune to experiencing and showing that emotion, but you had never seen him this angry. it was safe to say that his friend had pushed every one of kylian’s buttons tonight, despite doing little to do so.

“please mind your own business.” you said impatiently.

“i haven’t done a thing, doll,” he smirked, “not yet at least.”

disgust overtook your face. you were tired of his antics and how persistent he was at ruining your night. but at his words, kylian quickly stood up out of his seat, effectively knocking over some champagne. you too stood up with him and quickly put yourself between him and the table, hoping to defuse the problem at hand.

“don’t talk to her that way.” he seethed.

“like what?” his friend retaliated.

he too stood up and the tension in the room grew tenfold. curses were being thrown and you felt your face grow warmer and warmer in embarrassment. you felt many unwanted eyes focus upon you and you came to realize that you needed to get kylian and yourself out of this problem sooner than later. you felt kylian slightly push against you, trying to get in his friend’s face and it definitely wasn’t for a good reason.

“i better not see you ever again, fils de pute.” kylian said angrily.

“we’re leaving.” you said before quickly gathering your things from the table.

you grabbed kylian by the arm as you made your way out of the restaurant. your heart was beating a mile a minute and kylian wasn’t any better at the moment. a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead as his chest rose up and down. the sound of rain soon became the only thing that surrounded you two as you finally stood outside. you felt yourself finally breathe freely as the cool, and wet night air wafted through your hair.

“i’m sorry, ma chérie. i never wanted this to happen.” he said, a solemn expression plastered on his face.

you truly felt bad that he thought he should be the one apologizing. in all honestly, you weren’t too upset, you knew that if it weren’t for his friend’s childish behaviour, then the night would’ve gone down a different route. yet, you were glad you had an excuse now to leave that stuffy restaurant.

“don’t apologize, kylian. it was never your fault. i’m honestly glad we got to leave early.” you reassured him.

kylian turned towards you, his hands in his pockets. he sighed heavily, his breath materializing in front of him. you knew he wanted to address his jealousy, but was obviously holding back for the sake of it. wordlessly, you brought your arms up and around his neck, kissing the warm skin under his jawline. you felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair, your smell quickly overtaking his senses and causing a groan to escape past his lips. kylian finally brought his hands out from his pockets, finding their place on your hips.

“i didn’t like how he talked to you.” he breathed out.

“neither did i, but some people will always lack maturity.” you replied back.

he silently nodded into you causing his long lashes to tickle the ample skin of shoulder. kylian squeezed your hips, signalling you to let go of his neck. as you drew back from him, you watched as his dark eyes trailed down to your lips, his own lips parting in awe at your face. he brought his hand up to cup your face while his thumb lightly ran over your bottom lip. you felt yourself shiver, from kylian or the wind, you didn’t know.

“shit…your face is flushed.” he whispered, his eyes growing darker.

why were you getting warmer? just a moment ago, you felt all your hairs stand on end. you felt his thumb slide down to hold your chin up. leaning his head down to you, he brought his lips to yours in a heated kiss. your knees grew weak as you felt kylian pull you taught against him, his lips and tongue not letting up their movements. you loved this side of him; jealous and passionate. finally breaking apart for air, kylian licked his lips as he placed one last kiss on your lips.

“let’s go home,” you suggested, “i need you. so bad.”

a/n: please ignore any grammar and spelling mistakes lmao. hope you like it!

[yuritsukikage]

I’m having a mix of heartfelt sadness and some sense of anger (towards a certain company) right now

I know I’m mainly a Precure fan over here but I started my journey into the Japanese language, anime and manga when I first picked up and rented that Sailor Moon S DVD at a local hobby shop.

As I was watching the Region 1 DVD, I made a decision to try to watch it in another language because the old Pioneer DVD had both English and Japanese. I, a wee little depressed year 9 student was blown away by the voice acting from the Sailor Moon Japanese voice cast that I decided to look them up on the internet and find out the women behind these iconic characters.

What I realised was these women were not only around both my parents’ ages. They were in other anime that I literally grew up in, watching their anime in English. I decided to watch some of my childhood anime in those languages, just to hear how they performed. Spoiler alert: They we’re amazing.

And that’s how I started my journey into pursuing learning the Japanese language all the way to University where I graduated with a degree in that field.

The Sailor Moon Japanese voice cast were like those aunties (yes I am Asian) or older sisters (depending on the region) that you never knew but you connected with them through the anime that you have watched over the years. You watch them grow older seeing their public photos on news sites and social media through the events they attended, as you, yourself grows older.

The fact that we lost one of them in the 8th of September 2024 will be one of the most heartbreaking things to find out for me and a lot of people this year. Coincidently the shock announcement came on the birthday of one of the beloved Sailor Senshi makes it even more tragic.

Emi Shinohara was an fantastic seiyuu/voice actress. She worked in a lot of people’s childhood shows, many of us would have known her for her role as the ever reliable, ever strong Makoto Kino/Sailor Jupiter in the 90s anime of Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon (90s Sailor Moon for short). Others would have known her for Kaho Mizuki from Cardcaptor Sakura or if you’re old, B-Ko from Project A-Ko. However the majority of people (anime normies) would have mostly known her as the voice of Kushina Uzumaki from the Naruto Shippuden anime.

Her later years in life would really reflect on her roles she would later have with the aforementioned Kushina. A lot of younger seiyuu would have known her in Fafner (I hear that anime a lot on Twitter through some of the seiyuu involved and I know the character designer for Gundam Seed worked on the designs).

Probably the roles that really stood out for me personally asides her roles in Sailor Moon and CCS, would be an obscure 2007 anime called Claymore. That anime was one of those that the unfortunate case of “manga was still ongoing while the anime was airing situation”. However props to the casting staff involved in this anime because they brought in a chunk lot of veteran seiyuu that would get to show off their years of experience into this one single 24 episode anime. Emi Shinohara was no exception to this! She voiced the ax-crazy, hella insane, ultra mega bitch Ophelia and oh boy it was a ride and an experience to listen to her voice from the beginning right to the death of her character. I personally would recommend watching this anime for the voice acting in there, not for the anime itself because of its situation at the time.

Her music prowess was no joke either. Of the original 5 seiyuu of the Sailor Moon cast, she was definitely the most experienced and you can clearly experience it though the Moon Revenge live for a Christmas event that happened 31 years ago. She has released her own albums during the 90s as well and 100% she slayed on every character song that came to her during her active years in the 90s

I really cannot believe that Emi Shinohara has left us. The Sailor Moon community is definitely in mourning right now for this iconic voice actress. Our heart goes to her husband, Tokusatsu actor Hiroshi Watari and their only son who made a heartfelt and saddening message to Shinohara’s own personal Twitter account.

And our hearts also go towards the remaining 4 seiyuu of the original Sailor Moon voice cast, who out of the two who have social media, are currently in a state of devastation and sadness to have lost a fellow cast mate who they have worked and truly bonded together on the 5 years of Sailor Moon’s airtime from 1992-1997.

In particular fellow cast mate Rica Fukami who she considered Emi Shinohara as her twin, having being born on the same year, month and day. To the point they even have their own duo name together back in the 90s as Funky Twins, where they last year held a 3 day fan live together. Who would have thought that this would be the only time they would be together for such a special occasion. Let’s not forget the constant amazing and interesting quote tweets interactions between the two of them since Shinohara started her Twitter account a few years back from the constant birthday congratulations, to recently finding a hidden Sailor Moon treasure while Rica Fukami was in the middle of decluttering. The fact that we will never get this kind of interaction ever again is heartbreaking but it will live on through the past interactions that they have shared together.

I will briefly mention my anger towards Toei for losing this once in a lifetime opportunity to reunite the original 5 Sailor Moon voice cast for the 30th anniversary of the franchise. The fact that their last public reunion together was for a DVD commemoration in Akihabara, late 2009 has given me this sense of anger, frustration and sadness inside me that I will never forgive them for. And we will never have an opportunity like this ever again.

With that part out of my head. I will now leave this insanely long message with a single part of a message that Emi Shinohara’s son has written in that post on Twitter, “the name ‘Emi Shinohara’ will continue to live on as long as people remember her voice and the roles that she has portrayed”

Thank you Mrs Emi Shinohara for the past nearly 40 years of service to the anime and voice acting industry. We, the fans, will never forget you and we definitely will look back to the voices and songs that you have given us over the years. Rest in Peace. 🕊️💚

[sirenjose]

Analysis of Ganji Gupta

Ganji was born in India during a time when Britain still ruled over it.

Britain came to India after a sea route connecting Europe to India was found, and Britain initially came due to the economic prospects of trade, but eventually this turned into the desire to acquire territory.

The British presence in India began with the establishment of the British East India Company (the British government having no authority over them at this time). Initially, the focus was trade and acquiring goods such as silk, cotton, spices, and more. Trading posts were established and British communities developed, but eventually they started to meddle in Indian politics and transformed from a trading company to a ruling one. It was at this point that the British attitude towards Indians degenerated (a sense of superiority vs inferiority formed, biased views regarding non-western cultures arose, British disdain increased, and so on). Racism, frustration from the British forcing their own way of doing things (including the English language) on them, policies benefiting the British, and so on contributed to the Indian Rebellion of 1857 (aka Revolt of 1857, First War of Independence, or Sepoy Mutiny).

As a result of this rebellion, the British East India Company was replaced by the British Raj, which was when the British Government took direct control from the East India Company, with Queen Victoria later proclaimed Empress of India. Britain continued to focus on profit and change beneficial to themselves, which led to subjugation and exploitation, and their views of Indians did not improve (still viewed themselves as superior, believed in stereotypes as well as believed Indians were in need of British guidance and governance to civilize them and bring them modernity).

This background is important for Ganji as it is clear this is what he experienced, especially due to Ganji’s 1st letter.

Ganji we know grew up with a talent for cricket, which was the “British national sport”.

 His 2nd deduction implies he was a “prodigy”, with many people who knew him recommending him to participate in the regions “open tournament”. We know from Ganji’s trailer that he received “Love, Happiness, Hope and Pride” from playing cricket, showing how much he enjoyed the sport and how much it meant to him.

According to this same deduction, combined with Ganji’s backstory, we knew he was a “kind, obedient, and friendly” person, “mild-mannered” (aka gentle and not given to extremes of emotion, which is curious considering later on in Ganji’s story), quiet, and well-behaved. One of Ganji’s backstories states this event (where he was recommended to participate in the Open) took place when he was 16 years old.

During this competition, we know he was skilled enough to earn 12 consecutive wins. The next game after those 12 was a semi-final with the British Royal team. It does not say if Ganji won or lost that match, nor if he won the competition in general, but we do know he was skilled enough to receive an invitation from the Royal team to join them and an offer to help him train. As the deduction uses the word “exception” and applauds him for his performance, I’m assuming he did manage to at least defeat the British team and could’ve won the competition too, but it’s impossible to say for sure right now.

We do know that Ganji saw this invitation as a “good chance” and he “looked forward to a better future”. As a result, he left India with the British Royal team, where he stayed at the Queen’s Guard’s manor. Unfortunately for Ganji, it isn’t until he has arrived that he realizes the truth: “he discovered that no one here cared about him at all, and that he was just a toy that was called away for entertainment when the Guard had a little fun. No one knew where he came from, and no one had seen his family. He was struggling alone in this strange place”.

This was echoed in Ganji’s trailer, which says: “Yet when I was brought here I finally realized, These gentlemen simply needed a proper toy to play with. The funny thing is they were far from gentlemanly themselves. All they longed for were our submission and servitude”.

The terms “submission and servitude” tell us how Ganji was treated while in Britain at the Queen’s Guard’s manor. This is further emphasized by Ganji’s deduction 5, which states Ganji was only given 1 day to train, while 2 others (Oliver and Willie) were given 3 days to train. As that deduction says, despite how Ganji hoped for a better future from this opportunity, the “other sided” ended up only being a “mirage”.

Considering Ganji’s earlier invitation and how he is now being treated combined with only being given 1 training day, it seems the British didn’t want Ganji to be outstanding, which potentially could relate to the feelings of superiority discussed earlier. They didn’t want to feel inferior to someone like Ganji, and thus could further explain why they didn’t give him much training time. In the trailer, we see him picking up balls, and if this was all he was allowed to do, that’d further hurt his ability to train and improve. Lastly, Ganji was only allowed to train on Sundays, and back then, this was seen in Britain as a day of rest, when people didn’t work. This could’ve included cricket as well (there are instances of people being prosecuted for playing cricket on Sunday), which shows how much the Royal team tried to hinder Ganji’s ability to train, meaning he likely wasn’t being trained very professionally.

(If the room we see Ganji in before the fire in his trailer is the one he was given upon arriving at the manor, the state of the room could further show how the Royal Team felt about Ganji. The only identifiable items in the room are the cricket ball, as cricket is what he enjoys, and a blurry picture that we can see Ganji in, which could potentially have been of his home and thus ties to his desire to return to it.)

This fits with Ganji’s design notes which say “his social status and the agenda of politicians did not allow him to have obvious extraordinary talent”. It is because of this the design notes say Ganji’s gentle personality was forced to change into “a personality that takes strong measures to fight against fate”. (It is also right after this that it mentions Ganji being “manic”.)

Going to Ganji’s 1st letter, it further reveals how people thought and felt about Ganji and others like him. The part where the author says they need to “take the lead so that the rest of us may get the chance to educate the foolish” fits with how we earlier discussed the British felt they had to govern and civilize the people of India for their own good. This is emphasized with how later the letter says “If it weren't for your insight, he would have spent his life in the mud without ever being touched by the empire's light” and Ganji getting “the chance to lead a civilized life”.

This letter describes Ganji as a “gift” with his “only desirable qualities” being his “average cricket skills and humble personality”. Their sense of superiority is clear hear considering they call Ganji’s skills “average”, yet we know he was talented considering he at least managed to receive 12 consecutive wins in the competition, while the comment about Ganji being “humble” could tie in to how Ganji in his trailer says they just wanted “our submission and servitude”.

Despite how badly Ganji was treated, the one exception was the son of the owner of the Queen’s Guard’s manor. We know he was friendly to Ganji based on Ganji’s deduction 6, which is title “relieved” and shows that the kid thought Ganji was “brilliant” and asked Ganji to play with him. It is possible Ganji is the one who feels “relieved”, and that could be due to actually finding someone friendly in this place. In the JP and CN versions, it potentially has the kid use the term “big brother” for Ganji, so altogether, the kid was likely being honest about his feeling regarding Ganji’s skills and honestly just wanting a real playmate (rather than a toy like the others saw Ganji as).

In this same deduction, it mentions a “well-made board” that has Ganji’s name carved in it. As this is the deduction that involves the son of the manor owner of the Queen’s Guard, it is possible this board was a gift from that kid, and that board may have actually been a bat for cricket.

Going back to Ganji’s 1st letter, it mentions a “Duke Elgin” and a “Viscount”. Based on the mention of “the Viscount’s prominent father” and how this Viscount “demanded” Ganji to “take classes with him instead of just playing cricket with him”, it’s possible the “Viscount” could be the son of the owner of the Queen’s Guard’s manor. We know this boy asked Ganji to play cricket with him due to how cool and talented he thought Ganji was, so it could also fit he might also ask Ganji to take classes and spend other time with him. I’d like to imagine Ganji enjoyed spending time with the boy, as taking classes and playing cricket with him was likely much better than being treated as a toy by the others or languishing along in his poor room.

Ganji continues to play cricket, despite his anger, though he does form a relationship with this boy. If Ganji was 16 during the Open when he was invited to join the Royal Team, and Ganji is at least 21 in game (as he can drink Demi’s dovlin), he was likely subjected to the mistreatment of the Royal Team and owner of the Queen’s Guard’s manor for a fair number of years at least. As we know, he was never able to meet his family while he was at that manor and he was forced to “struggle alone in this strange place”. The “last straw” came one day when he received news “bad news” about his hometown, with his deduction 7 saying he’d received a letter saying “Go home and save them!”

It is soon after this that a fire breaks out and burns down the manor of the Queen’s Guard. The only survivor was the owner’s son and Ganji.

This is also the same time that in his backstory trailer it says “Stop being nice to everyone. I need a new identity. I want to go home. Perhaps that is the only place where there's still hope”.

This matches with Ganji’s last deduction, which is “a letter to home” that he wrote to his mother, saying that “everything’s fine with me. I’m coming home soon”.

Right after the fire starts in one of his backstories, it says Ganji became a “manic patient, often falling into uncontrollable irritability”, so it seems the fire and around this time is when he is first said to be manic. His deduction 9 has a diagnosis saying “Mania, easily irritated. Avoid looking at fire. Suggest locking all windows and doors and staying at home alone”. It is because of his worsening mania that is says people stayed away from him and called him a “thug”, but Ganji only cared about going home.

Once again returning to Ganji’s 1st letter, the end of it talks about getting info on Ganji’s “hometown and the extraordinary spice extraction”. The mention of spices fits our earlier discussion on Britain’s interest in India in part for its spices. This info about Ganji’s home and spice extraction is apparently helpful to whoever this “sir” is and an “upcoming mission” he will be going on. This same “sir” is apparently someone responsible for the idea to bring Ganji to England (though for now I’m thinking he isn’t the Queen’s Guard’s manor owner, who I think is the Viscount’s father).

Considering the talk about Ganji’s hometown and the obvious interest in its “spice extraction”, this could mean this “sir” is someone behind whatever “bad news” came from Ganji’s hometown, and likely the “bad news” and “upcoming mission” had to do with their clear interest in its spices. And if they wanted info on Ganji’s hometown, that could mean one of the few reasons they invited Ganji over was for that info so they could exploit his hometown for the “spice extraction”.

(One side note about Ganji’s 1st letter, but in the CN and JP versions, it says this “Sir” is someone who is recovering their health in “Delhi”, which further shows it’s not the owner of the Queen’s Guard’s manor, who we know was in Britain. It’s possible, if this is someone capable of going on missions and is mentioned regarding “we need… people like you to take the lead” that this “sir” is someone higher up in the government regarding rule of India, who could order a mission to Ganji’s home for it’s “spice extraction”).

Next is Ganji’s 2nd letter, which unlike his 1st (which happens before the fire) his 2nd happens after the fire. We hear he tried to board a freighter. Likely he was attempting to stowaway to return home, but he was caught and taken away by someone working for Duke Elgin. Ganji was placed in a detention center, where he was examined. They mention a “strange scar on his forehead”, which potentially came from the fire that burned down the Queen’s Guard’s manor. We do see Ganji with the owner’s son while the fire burns the manor, so if he had to go in to rescue him, that could have been when.

Considering how they say Ganji, besides his scar, seems “as strong as ever” to me kind of feels like they’re still talking about him like an object or one of their possessions.

After this, the letter mentions how Ganji would be “quiet during the day” but would go “mad” at night, with him “either holding his head between his hands while slamming it against the wall with a pained expression plastered across his face or attempted to snatch the candles used by the guards to keep the place lit up. He only settled down once we locked him in the darkness of the dungeon. But once the next day arrived, he was back to normal again”. It was due to this behavior that the author states he went to purchase “strong sedatives” (to be used on Ganji if he went out of control). During this time while the author was away, Ganji was able to escape despite the guards around him. Despite this, the author believes Ganji will return as they still had several of his possessions, including “medical records, an invitation, and that "treasure" of his.

It says the part with the signature had been “burned off”. If Ganji was messing with candle fire while in the detention center, it’s possible he did something similar to this letter if he got ahold of it (unless it’s nothing important).

The mentioned “treasure” is likely the note from home that reads “Come home, child”. Considering it says “child”, there’s a chance this could’ve been written by his mother. We know Ganji’s written to her himself before, so him receiving correspondence from her would make sense.

Another treasure we know Ganji owns is his accessory Cozy Fleece, which is a sheep toy “given to Ganji when he was young” and said to be “one of the several treasures in his luggage”. This was likely another item given to Ganji by his mother, when he was still home, and thus why he treasures it. Another potential treasure could be Ganji’s bansuri accessory, which has the description that mentions its music helps to recall his hometown.

As for the medical records, it says that the patient is suffering “severe homesickness” and displays “impulsive behavior during times of extreme depression or anxiety”. This means that Ganji’s “mania” is caused by his “severe homesickness” in moments when he’s suffering from “extreme depression or anxiety”. That could mean, with Ganji already being homesick for years before the day the fire started, Ganji’s “last straw” when he received bad news about his hometown now makes sense why the fire likely started then. That “bad news” triggered his anxiety and severe homesickness, depressed him when he realized he was stuck at this manor with no quick way home, before then making him impulsive and “manic” in his desire to go home as soon as possible. Whether or not it was on purpose or an accident, it is possible one of his “impulses” resulted in the fire starting, or a confrontation that triggered his irritation causes it to accidentally begin. Maybe a bit of sanity returned to him afterwards, and that could be when he rescued the boy as we see him with the boy during the fire in Ganji’s trailer. But for now, information is scant on the specifics of this event.

Potentially after escaping detainment could be when we see him living by himself like in his other backstories. It’s possible he was in hiding from those that had captured him. We don’t know for sure whether he returned to them for his treasure (it’s possible with how important his note from his mom likely was). We know from Ganji’s backstory that it says he “lived in a cold room with little furniture for years” and “seldom stepped outside during the year”. He had no friends, always looked solemn, and people found it “difficult to get to know him”. Ganji is described as “peculiar and lonely”, and someone his neighbors “loved to gossip about”.

His backstory mentions “random loud noises coming from his room”, which could tie to the behavior he displayed at night in the detention center, when he’d hit his head against a wall.

Regarding Ganji hiding in his room all the time, this connects back to his deduction 9, the diagnosis that suggested “locking all windows and doors and staying at home alone”.

The part about “avoid looking at fire” implies, whether or not he did it and whether it was on purpose or accident, it implies he’d been deeply affected by the fire that burned down the manor. Maybe because of all the feelings (and irritation) he had from how long he spent there, being mistreated and never being allowed to train. Maybe because of the boy he’d formed a relationship too and how this fire took away his home and family, just like Ganji was without his home and family. Maybe any conflict he had if he was somewhat responsible, whether accidentally or on purpose, as his trailer does mention wanting those “gentlemen to repent for their sins” but also because this was a place he’d had such high hopes for regarding his future and now it’s turning to ashes, as well as was a place he’d suffered alone, away from his family, for a long time, but more conflict because Ganji was deep down still a “kind” person (and maybe regretted not saving more people, or regretted if he had a fit of anger and its consequences that day that causes all these events). Just another boy, like the son of the owner of the Queen’s Guard crying at the sight of his home on fire, that was crying out for his family and home as it was threatened or attacked but Ganji unable to do anything about it.

The backstory continues by saying he kept his appearance “hidden” whenever he went out, which could relate to if he was in hiding from the people who’ve been trying to capture him in his letters, or to the mistreatment he potentially receives if people knew where he was from, or to hide the scars on his face from people if he knew how they’d react upon seeing it (as they did describe his face as “horrifying”). It also fits with how his trailer said he needed a “new identity”.

Despite how they treated him, Ganji was said to give “softly spoken words of appreciation to the neighbors’ trivial kindness”, which seems to connect to Ganji’s original personality (as he was described as kind, friendly, and mild-mannered before he came to Britain).

Others debated the reason for Ganji’s behavior, suggesting “regret” (tied to the fire that ended his training with the Royal Team, as other people wouldn’t know the full truth about his feelings towards the Royal Team) or “cautiousness” (from living in a foreign country). Unfortunately for Ganji, everyone decided that Ganji had “a lot of secrets” and “might bring trouble to the town and decided to stay away from him”.

The last thing we hear about Ganji is he still dreamt of returning home, and eventually received an invitation from the manor, offering a “huge reward”, enough for Ganji to use to go home, and he “decided to take the risk”.

Side note regarding Duke Elgin.

I couldn’t find any “Duke” Elgin, but I did find an “Earl” of Elgin. The 9th Earl of Elgin, Victor Bruce, was the Viceroy of India.

I don’t think this is the exact same “Duke Elgin” but it could be a basis for the character (for Netease when designing this).

These were individuals appointed by the British monarch. They represented the British government in India and exercised authority over British India on behalf of the British crown. Victor Bruce served as Viceroy during 1894-1899m which was a particularly troubled period in Indi’s history, and his tenure was not seen as a successful one. During his administration, there was economic and social unrest, a famine, bubonic plague, and the Tirah campaign (Afridi Frontier Rising). This campaign took place in Northwest India and involved the British seeking to restore control over the area after an uprising occurred (with 1 of the challenges they faced being the mountainous terrain).

I don’t think this is exactly where Ganji is from, but this event, as well as all the other issues occurring at the time, could relate to or be a sort of basis (to Netease) for whatever did actually happen to Ganji’s hometown.

Apparently the “bansuri” is a flute connected to north Indian music (with the venu being connected to the south), which could mean (with how the Tirah Campaign happened in the Northwest) Ganji could be from somewhere in the North part of India.

[amaiaqt]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤdream on, dreamerㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhow do they encourage you when you don't acknowledge ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyour own efforts ? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤxiao, diluc, wanderer, al haitham !

second post of my 200 special ! hope the difference in prompt for each part brings a good read to everyone !

@https-heizou @papiliotao @lovevivi444 @kazumist @ilyuu

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤalatus xiao ! ㅤ

xiao is not the most talented in expressing his affections, he's far from it, but he does try.

he tries to understand you, to understand what you find so special in something he so sees to be trivial, to understand how your mind processes the smallest instances or comments he makes as endearing to you, to understand your personal view in mortal life. he tries to see value in the small matters you see of importance. he doesn't understand you, but because of his unfortunately tangled heartstrings that tug on each other at the thought of you, he has to try at the very least. no, it's not has, he's not obligated to. really, he just wants to.

that was when he first met you, when your presence first piqued his interest.

now, now he does understand you. he understands the importance of small things to you, he understands that you may think differently in comparison to him, that you may value things he does not. he understands now after months of trying his best to even begin to comprehend your mind.

the only thing left that he doesn't understand about you, is your self-criticism.

he sees your efforts, he sees how serious you are about what you do, he sees how dedicated you are to your work, and he deems you worthy of acknowledgement for that. why is it that you don't ? why is it that you've come this far, and yet, you can't acknowledge yourself for that ?

if xiao's not the best in expressing his affections, you also can't expect him to be all that experienced in showing tender support, but he also tries ! he always, always tries. for you. he always tries, his absolute best, for you.

"why are you so..." he pauses, choosing his words as he thinks thoroughly about how to word what he wants to say. he gulps, hesitant, but the way your eyes met his with expectance, he shakes his head. "why are you always so harsh with yourself ?" he finally finishes, eyebrows knotting in seriousness. the way you looked at him, it urged him to elaborate further on what he meant — "you often criticize your own work, think lowly of them, even. also, don't think i don't notice that look of disapproval in your eyes when you're skimming through the words you just wrote in front of me, words that tell stories i would find myself comfort in." he takes your hand in both of his, cupping it up to his lips as he sits in front of you, opting to silence while waiting for your response. "xiao," you took a deep breathe and he looked up at you patiently, "it's just, i'm not that harsh on myself, i promise." you place your hand on top of his that still cupped your other to his lips.

"it's that i admire you, your work. i respect your dedication to it and how serious you are about it. that's why i don't like that you criticize yourself so often." "so you'd like me to stop ?" "i hope that you'd stop." your features relax as your smile goes soft to his direct response, and you kiss him on the forehead.

"thank you, my darling. i needed that." you leaned in closer to his face, melting at how softly his amber eyes looked into yours. "i figured you did."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤdiluc ! ㅤ

now diluc is not so reserved when it comes to his own opinions. if he thinks something is unimportant, he will say, out loud, that it isn't important. his words have no filter, that's why he's deemed a rude man by many, with the exception with a few that were used to it.

you were one of that few. constantly retaliating or paying no mind to his direct and straight-to-the-point comments about how it was pitiful to pay mind to 'senseless' matters. though, he did irk you when you first got acquainted, but with utmost patience, you grew to understand that he simply didn't get it and worded his sentiments with a far too direct tone.

really, despite his insensitive tone with wording things, he never means for them to be offensive or hurtful. especially not towards you, archons forbid he ever accidentally says something to hurt you. he wouldn't be able to forgive himself even if you already forgave him.

hence, he's noticeably careful with his statements when he watches you tug on your hair in frustration over the sentence you were currently writing just not making sense. he wants to be of assistance to you, of help, but how does one do so ? he doesn't ponder for too long and decides to sit closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist in an attempt to rub soothing circles into your sides. "don't pull your hair out like that, you're getting pent up." you let out a long sigh and cave in, propping up against his shoulder and leaning into him in hopes of rest.

but he can't shake off the thought that you weren't just tired.

"do you perhaps have something bottled up in your chest ? would you like to rant about it if so ?" the question comes out soft and slow, as if he was being careful. you didn't need to say anything for him to know your response, just the way you tried to hide your face in his arm and leaned closer told him that you did in fact have something bottled up.

"if you're comfortable to talk about it now, of course." he reassures you, pulling you in closer and slightly pushing away the table that you were furiously writing on earlier. your shoulders tensed but loosened as soon as he noticed. "it's just, none of my writing seems right, as of late." you started to speak, melting into his hold. "how do you say so ? i've been reading your work in progresses, and i'd say they're as beautiful as all your other projects." he queried, not fully understanding what you meant in right. "are you sure ? to me they're just not that worth finishing. not that good, basically."

he doesn't understand, not that good ? how could you say that about the papers you would stay up all night in your shared bedroom, writing away on your desk instead of curling up to his warmth in bed, leaving him almost lonely just to finish ? how could you say that about the short stories you spend hours on and put utmost effort into ? he's practically offended for you.

"don't ever say that." he kisses your temple and stays with his lips hovering over your skin. "you're likely in need of a rest for you to feel that spark for your work again, no ?" you hummed at his suggestion, "perhaps, yeah." he smiles at your response and kisses your temple again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤwanderer !ㅤ

kunikuzushi, scaramouche, wanderer, however you know him, is an honest man. he's intelligent with words as well, making sure every word rolls off with the exact impression he means it.

but he's no writer, he's more of a reader. he rather reads the pages neatly written out by some literature genius than write himself. so to watch you work, watch you write, oh he does admire it. and better you bet that he'll always want the manuscripts or unfinished projects you don't publicly release, which you figure he simply keeps up on a shelf, but far from that in reality. instead, he keeps the pieces he gets from you in the drawer by his nightstand, specifically for their safe storage. he loves how you write, he loves the words you use, everything you write is a gift to him, so he keeps them there for close attention.

with this, it doesn't go unnoticed when you start to lose heart in your writing. when you start to hesitate with each word you note on the paper, when you start to ponder more and longer with the next sentence, when you start throwing away more drafts than often — he realizes before you can come to terms with it.

what bothers him more is that you're less prideful in your finished works, when you used to show them off to him immediately, you would instead say they're not finished or you're gonna edit them more. only to stash them away in a folder and hide it at the bottom of your drawer. he knows why, you can't hide it from him even if you try, and you don't even dare to try.

he stops your hand as it moves to dip your pen in ink again, taking it from your fingers as he moves your chair to face him. "you can talk to me, you do know that, right ?" he starts, leaning close with both of his hands on each of the chair's arms, a sign for you to stay put. you looked up at him, puzzled by his actions, but he knew better than to assume you didn't know what he meant, you knew what he meant.

"talk to me," he pauses, "please. i know something's wrong when you're more frustrated than usual." he speaks carefully, softly. he's a man who knows how to use his words, who makes sure to speak them clearly yet carefully. "it bothers me when you don't want to talk about things, please ?"

he's a man who fears silence from himself, and from those whom he trusts dearly, silence brings worry to his nerves and waves him with a sense of discomfort. he hates when you're silent. he, really, really does.

to his relief, you finally let him hear that sigh of forfeit and his muscles loosen from their formerly tense state. "writing has just been difficult, recently, that's all to it." you were looking down as you spoke, and this left scaramouche unconvinced. "that's not all to it, don't think i haven't noticed." he shakes his head, staying in place to hear everything. he's not ending this conversation until he hears everything.

"for someone who insists he doesn't care, you notice nearly everything." he scoffs at your attempt to change the topic, "i don't care about most things, but i do care about you."

but this time, your silence in response to what he just said, it amuses him. "now, talk to me, tell me everything. i will listen, i promise you that." he pulls a stool over for him to sit right in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤal haitham !ㅤ

he's no better in showing his affections that a certain adeptus, and he takes no time in understanding. he can be rude, actually, sometimes he means it, sometimes he doesn't. al haitham is a hit or miss kind of man.

however, he does acknowledge others' work — he's not that bad. he acknowledges your work, he respects it even. he would oftentimes find himself assisting you as well, slipping in suggestions and short comments while you write. it's the least he could do now that you're together, after years in the akademiya merely tolerating his manner. though, he'll admit that his curiosity still dwells on why you didn't reject him that day.

he would even tuck away some of his ignored pride and compliment you, even asking you for literary recommendations from time to time. al haitham was a hit or miss kind of man, so you can say you hit the jackpot.

now, with his respect to your work, he will not accept any out of hand criticism without a glare, not even from you. as a matter of fact, whenever he hears a self-deprecating whisper from you, he cups your face with one hand and makes you take it back. not even you have the right to make negative comments about yourself or your work, he makes sure of that.

"this is all such, ugh !" al haitham perks up at the sound of you tossing multiple, maybe even a stack, of papers to the bin by your desk and curse yourself. the chair you sat on scrapes the wood floor as you push it back to get a new stack of blank papers from your drawer. he closes his book and soundlessly walks over and takes out the papers you had discarded and flips through the pages messily stapled together. "this is a waste, love, you are aware of that i hope." he pats off the stack of papers and tries to hand it back to you in hopes that you'd at least use it as a draft. "it's a waste of time, hayi. the plot of that one is messy and has too many loops." you groaned, lightly pushing his hand holding the papers away. "i swear i have it planned out already, but as i write it down it turns cliché, into garbage." the male's eye twitches when you finish your statement, and he sighs, setting the papers down on your desk. "you've spent nearly a week on this one, don't say that." he tries to convince you, and stops the hand that tries to push the papers back into the bin as you turn to him. "and it's garbage, hayi !"

he wipes his hands on his shirt first, then cups your face with both to force you to face him. "come on, you're being far too harsh with yourself." he speaks with the best sincerity he can muster, and he doesn't miss the way your muscles tensed before caving into his touch. "i'm just frustrated it's not going as good as i'd like." you admit, and al haitham pulls you in for a hug. "just because you're frustrated, doesn't mean you should be belittling something you still worked hard on." he retorts, and with the way you sighed and hid your face in his chest, he knew you had no further arguments anymore and his point was made correct.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

[pedgito]

Enjolras grabbing you and holding you up against a wall for a quick fuck super dirty just shoving clothes aside panting into your neck

author’s note: i realize writing for enjolras can be a tricky but to anyone seeing this and not agreeing with the way i wrote it, don’t bother me, because frankly i don’t care lol. anyways, that being said, to those of you that do read this, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bbc!enjolras, fem!reader, canon divergence, unprotected sex, semi-public but clothed, mentions of drinking, this was literally just a reason to write for enjolras to see how people liked it/how i would enjoy writing him, so if it flops, this didn’t happen. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.6k

You’d wasted nearly a month of your time infiltrating their rebellion under your father’s order—and it had been going well, not a single hendrence in your plans until a very unfortunate night, on the precipice of courageous attack being led by Enjolras himself, speaking out in a boastful manner to his people at these sacred meetings—it gave many hope that things could change, that they had a fighting chance. In your eyes, it was all lies. You came from the other side, experienced how they lived, the power they had—it was a battle he was going to lose regardless of how passionate he was for it. He was outnumbered, easy to outsmart, and despite his passion for the cause, he was blinded by it.

You felt sympathy, it was why you were able to fit yourself in so easily, so well—he never questioned your intentions for a second, swearing by the look of determination in your eye, your willingness to throw out ideas, boost the morale—but if there was one thing about him, it was that he knew just the right things to say, even to the people who didn’t believe it. He was great at convincing people to believe lies, acting like he had the answer to everything and everyone’s problems.

It would be easier if there wasn’t a war at all, but it seemed like the only way to solve issues now, fight first and solve things later.

The first night you end up alone with him isn’t intentional. It’s a late night at the bar, your tired figure nestled up in a chair in a dark corner of the room, Enjolras nursing his drink from the other end, watching as his friends parted ways. You had a bed to sleep in, a lavish home to keep you safe, but you wanted nothing more than to be away from that, if even for just a moment.

Enjolras tells you of his background, how he grew up, why he cared about the things that he did—and it made you realize that under all his anger and crazed acts, he was a lot like you. If not, he was more sure of himself than you. You were lost, fighting between right and wrong and only doing what your father had ordered, but you could feel it in your bones—this wasn’t right.

They had every reason to fight against the more fortunate; the richer, arrogant, mindless people running the show—they were all just as horrible as everyone assumed and you’d seen it firsthand.

Your backstory is simple—you came from nothing, were nothing, and you were tired of living that way. You’ve practiced it for weeks, making it all seem as believable as possible. He believes it, at least, he acts like he does.

From that point on, and the weeks follow, Enjolras turns to you every night, both of you staying later than necessary to talk about the day and complain about nonsense, sometimes sitting in the silence, listening to the other conversations in the establishment, watching as Enjolras separated the food on his plate, sharing with you.

You never went hungry, not when you were being served several course meals most nights, but you played along anyways.

Enjolras is dedicated to the cause with an obscured ambition and it feels like maybe you won’t be able to break-through to him, relying on the fact that maybe you could seduce him enough to have him slip-up, even the smallest tidbit of information.

Your father was growing angry, more and more upset that you were coming home empty-handed.

Until another night leads to several drinks, Enjolras leaning over you as he grabbed for the liquor, a sated smile pasted over his face. He didn’t smile often, not genuinely, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

“Darling, you’re going to clean this place out, you know?” He comments, voice thick as he swallowed the bitter alcohol.

“Must you insult me like that?” You tease, “I am a lady, after all.”

Enjolras gives you a look, one that’s calling your bluff outright.

“I am,” You squeak, shoving him away playfully, “Shall I prove it?”

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, considering it.

“I’m not being serious.” You tell him before he can answer.

“Yes, darling. I’m aware.” He tells you, “It does not make the idea any less intriguing though, I must admit.”

You snort softly, grabbing at your peacoat and shrugging it over your shoulders, “I think you’re at your limits, Enjolras.”

He peers at the bottle, holding it up to shine under the light, only enough for a small sip left in the bottle. He still seemed as sturdy as a rock, just more relaxed, less worrisome.

“I think you are right.” He agrees with a giddy laugh, pressing the bottle back against the table, the uneven weight of it causing the glass to rock, rattling to a stop. “Leaving already?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You tell him, rising from your seat. It doesn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, fingers pressed gently against your ring and middle, an unthought attempt to stop you. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Tomorrow.” He tells you simply, eyes unnerving as he glances toward the floor, around the room, before landing back on you.

“Where?” You inquire, knowing full well what he meant.

“Outside the wine shop, if things go south.”

It was the piece of information you so desperately needed, giving the other side even more of a fighting chance—your face fell slightly, nodding in response as you shrugged your hand away.

“Sleep well, Enjolras.” You tell him before fleeing without another word, disregarding the few goodbyes you receive, feet carrying you faster than you can manage yourself, stumbling over your feet as you round the corner outside the bar, disappearing down a dark alley.

You take a long breath, body relaxed as you feel the weight drift from your chest, removing the coat you had shrugged on as you felt hot, overheated, throwing it to the ground angrily.

“Running home to daddy, I assume?” His voice travels like an echo down the long, dark alley.

Your hand clutches over your chest, heart feeling like it’s going to burst. You muffle the scream with your other hand, staring at the dark figure as it approaches—his face was cold, eerily void of emotion.

“Enjolras, please.” You beg, knowing there was no using in lying. If he knew, he’d known for a while.

He huffs a vindicte laugh, pulling uncomfortably at the right ascot around his neck. “Is that where you go every night?”

“Enjolras, you do not understand.” You ignore his question, trying to level with him.

“I believe I do, darling.” He responds tensely, “How would he feel knowing you’ve been fraternizing so closely with the enemy? I thought it was all business with you monarchy people.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” You retort, “You are no different—only because you’re fighting against them you think that makes you better? You come from the same life that I do, do not try and belittle me.”

“So that, back there, that was only an act?”

The flirting, he means. You’d never considered he cared, giving his unwavering attention to his own cause, you didn’t think he cared that much. But clearly, you were wrong.

“Isn’t all of it?” You retort.

“You tell me, darling.” Enjolras challenges, taking a brave step forward, forcing you to stumble back against the wall. “Are you really going to allow all of these lives to be lost? Are you going to run back home and tell him everything?”

You shove him away weakly, eyes glaring harshly.

“It is no business of yours, Enjolras.” You tell him firmly, “Give this up, come fight with us—you’re on the side that has no chance, you do realize?”

“Are you trying to convince me?” He asks, “My love, you must try harder.”

“You’re infuriating.” You complain, “Your voice, your attitude—I'd rather hinder my hearing if that meant not having to listen to your voice again.”

It’s not the route he’s expecting you to take, but two can play at that game. The frustration was building, boiling over, and he could see it in the way your body canted toward him inconspicuously, despite your vile words.

His touch ghosts over your hip, pulling at the shirt tucked loosely in your britches, squeezing at the soft skin.

“Likewise.” He agrees, watching as you rested your hand against the him of his trousers, traveling up his dirtied shirt, over his vest, pulling at the ascot until it came loose. “Now, let us see if I can change your mind, yes?”

Enjolras gently yanks the red material of his ascot from your hands, taking his time as he wraps it around your head, knot settling between your teeth as you bite down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Not a word,” He warns, “Understood?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, letting him shift you until your front is pressed against the brick wall, his hands sifting through the layers of clothing shared between you both until he’s free enough that he can fist his cock, the hard ridge of it pressed against the curve of your ass, his hands squeezing soft at the flesh of your thigh, traveling up enough to tap against the innermost flesh, motioning for you to spread your legs slightly.

His calloused fingers drag over your folds, finding their way to the center and covering his fingers in your slick, moan muffled around the soft fabric shoved into your mouth.

“They’re probably worried sick,” Enjolras comments, “wondering where you are, if you’re hurt—if they only knew.”

You make a noise of defiance, pressing back against his fingers, the pad of his middle nudging against your clit, eyes squeezed shut in response.

You’ve been deprived of touch for so long that this felt needed, wanted—and even the smallest touch had your eyes rolling back, keening against him. He gives no warning when he slips inside, though his movements are slow. He’s responding to your noises, the soft clenches of your walls around the tip of his cock as he moves in small thrusts, groans muffled behind his clenched teeth.

“Women like you don’t deserve to be bed properly,” He comments harshly, “are they attempting to marry you off already?”

You shake your head furiously, allowing him to grasp your hands behind your back, shoving your body gingerly against the harsh texture of the wall—it’s a stark contrast to the way he’s consuming you, but you don’t question it.

“I figured as much,” He comments lowly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, panting harshly as he increases his speed, the ferocity of it, a startling gasp slipping from your lips, failing to be muffled by the fabric. Enjolras’s hand cups over your mouth, “Quiet,” He orders harshly, “do you not listen?”

Again, you shake your head. If you did, you would’ve never ended up in this situation. Enjolras leans back slightly, loose grip on your hands as he pulls out slowly, thrusting into you harshly, watching as his cock disappeared inside of you, squeezing at the soft globes of your ass.

“You drive me mad in the worst ways,” Enjolras admits, “but you are divine, you know?”

You make a noise, drawing his attention up. He sighs, pulling the fabric from your mouth, pressing a single finger against your lips to warn you of your volume.

“How so?” You ask quietly, teasingly, hoping it gets under his skin.

“You fit me perfectly,” He acknowledges, “such a shame you were ready to betray me so easily.”

“I had you fooled,” You chide, confidence seeping through, “for a while, at least.”

Enjolras releases your hands, his own palms spreading over the expanse of your back, forcing the shirt up higher as he grips your hips, pulling you tight against him. Your palms slapped against the wall, held there for support.

“I could teach you things,” He tells you softly, “things you haven’t even come to understand—I’d make you realize which side you should be fighting for, you’d never want to leave.”

“So, you’re not hoping for your—your cock to do the job?” You stammer out, whining softly with each movement of his hips. “I thought that was the point of all this?”

“Partly.”

“I’m not dull, Enjolras. I have higher education, I know—why do you think I agreed with my father so—so easily,” It’s redundant, he doesn’t answer, “I hate their stance just as much as you, but they are my family. I cannot abandon them.”

“A shame,” He seethes, reaching around your front to palm roughly at your breasts, pulling you back against him, other hand slipping over your cunt, circling your clit furiously, “—at least I have this to remember you by.”

You’ve never been with anyone like this—it’s usually slow, sensual, sweet. This was nothing but anger and frustration, hatred for the same cause, but fighting on two different sides. It was a battle, deep rooted in confusion.

“Knowing you may die tomorrow?” You ask tensely, stalling his movements slightly. “This is how you wanted to spend your final night? If it must be?”

“I liked you better quiet.” He spits at you.

You laugh brokenly, the harsh pass over your clit sending you over the edge, cunt clenching around him as buries himself deep inside, coming with little warning as he attempts to pull out, but held still by the hand forcing him there, buried into his shirt as you both ride out the high of your orgasms, moaning into the silence of the night, both of you barely visible at this hour from the lack of a full moon. His mouth rests against the back of your neck, nose buried into the back of your hair, most of it piled up messily atop your head.

“You’re at risk of dying, too—if not more than me. These people, they’re passionate. If they find out—“

“Will they?” You ask quietly, hearing the faint rustle of his pants as he pulls out of you.

You turn, connecting eyes with him. He seems hesitant to answer.

“Oh, darling—don’t be coy now. You come inside of me, threatening me with the burdance of bearing your child if fate has it that way, and now you can’t even look my way?”

“That’s not—“ He begins, shaking his head.

“You men are all the same.” You tell him harshly, “Just because what you think you’re doing is right, it doesn’t make you a good person.”

“My love—“ He begins.

“Calling me that doesn’t make it so,” You retort, “you hated me just a few moments ago, am I wrong?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He admits, “Not before, not during the rebellion.”

You smile tightly, adjusting your clothes back to their original place, reaching down to fetch your coat.

“How sweet,” You tell him, patting his chest, “I guess we shall see how tomorrow goes, that should determine where this takes us.”

But unfortunately, you had a sneaking suspicion that none of this would end well, for either of you.

“Stay,” He tells you, “for a few more hours, that’s all I ask.”

You’re hesitant, every morsel of your being telling you otherwise. You ignore it, allowing yourself to enjoy what may be your last night.

“Another bottle and you have a deal, Enjolras.” You barter, watching the grin grow on his face—because despite how much he wanted to hate you, he wasn’t sure he could. Given the time he had gotten to know you, learn about you, he had to believe there was a part of you that would do the right thing,

Although, it was much too late for that.

“After you, darling.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[graysongoal]

One thing I often don't do a lot of is toot my own horn. After the past week and a half, though, I'm happy to do so.

I attended my first ever GenCon, the largest tabletop game convention in North America. Attendance this year was a record-breaking 71k. One-way masking and protections unfortunately meant that my spouse and I came home early with out first-ever COVID-19 infections. We're healed up now and mostly well.

Attending the con was exciting, overwhelming, and pushed me towards growth in a number of ways. In addition to seeing friends, I also got to see, meet, and spend time with several of my favorite comedians, game creators, and writers.

Perhaps one of the most impactful moments for me was attending the writer's symposium, which reminded me how much I loved to write fiction in my youth. Once I hit high school, I began to see it the same way I saw non-fiction writing. I always tried to include too many details. Plus, I quickly got too busy and decided it wasn't for me anymore.

Lately, though, I've been writing more poetry. I've also been entertaining the idea of possibly writing a few TTRPGs or short stories.

So, when I heard that Brandon O'Brien (the Poet Laureate for Seattle WordCon 2025) and Linda D. Addison (five-time winner of the Bram Stoker Award) were co-hosting an open mic event, I nervously jumped at the chance to read probably my favorite poem I've ever written.

Hearing these two amazing individuals alongside a roomful of people respond positively to my words wasn't something I was prepared for. But, being that vulnerable with complete strangers in-person was restorative in ways that I can't even begin to express. That's especially true of hearing folks repeat and sit with the words I carefully crafted, taking in their weight.

I have experienced a great many fascinating and incredible things, and yet I quite honestly don't know that I've known such a wonderful feeling.

So, I'm sharing that same poem here. Feel free to read or listen to it, if you so choose.

As a note, this poem is about child abuse. However, it is spoken about in metaphor and there are no details. (It also has a happy ending.)

[moon-upright]

Outlooks on the World - Esme + M6

headcanons about how my apprentice and the main 6 view life as a whole. because i got the idea in my head. i think this makes sense

Esme sees the world as a bad place, but individuals can make it better

After a stressful childhood which ended rather unfortunately, Esme grew resentful of the people and potential forces that made it that way

For much of her life she sees the world as an unfair place without true justice or karma — if there are higher beings, they are either uncaring or cruel

But she knows for a fact that there are good people out there, and she'd be doing them a disservice to forget them and say everything is all bad

One way Esme grows through and post-route, is improving her outlook on life and humanity as a whole, becoming less withdrawn and spiteful, more open

Julian's outlook is sort of the inverse of Esme's — the world is a good place overall, with some individuals and things that make it worse... (hear me out)

He very much loves the world and humanity. He likes people and he likes new experiences

This sounds very positive but you must remember that Julian views himself as one of these bad individuals

Julian does know that things can be unfair and unsafe at times - he's seen a lot of good people struck with misfortune, or even lose their lives

But he doesn't really feel spiteful or resentful of the world as a whole. It's just how fate can turn out (he also tends to find some way to blame himself)

Julian grows by learning to love himself — or at least not hate himself. Self-love might be something he will always be chasing, though. But as long as he doesn't give up that chase, he'll be okay

Asra views the world as just another place, and people are either good or bad, most in between

He likes the world fine, but his experience with the realms means his world is not just larger, but only one of many

He doesn't fully understand ALL magic, but he's close with it in a way where he sees that “fair” and “unfair” aren't always things that apply. “Good” and “bad” are nuanced. The world is colorful yet gray

Sees it as up to each individual to decide what they want and how much they can take. At least on a subconscious level, he thinks that whether he sees someone as good or bad is mostly a matter of his own conscience

He does need to remember that, if everything depends on his own conscience, then he doesn't have control over a lot outside of that

He also needs to maintain balance between all of his worlds - nothing wrong with not wanting to be shackled to one spot or a life you don't want, as long as you don't lose sight of the people in your life.

Portia has the same outlook as her brother, just minus the self-hate

She loves the world, people, and herself

It's not to say she doesn't also get her own negative streaks, but overall she likes who she is

She feels like there's excitement around every corner - and if there isn't, you can make some! (she loves books partly for this reason)

Nadia is in the unique position of having a significant amount of power over a portion of the world (even if it's a relatively small portion)

It's less about how the world inherently is, but how it currently is and what she can do to affect that

If Vesuvia is a microcosm of the world and Vesuvia is corrupt or unjust or bad, then she’ll change that. So she'll change the world

She also isn't among the people, so she isn't exactly a good judge of whether they're good or not. She can definitely say that the upper class is full of not-so-great individuals, but that makes up a minority

She knows that a ruler is nothing without her people

She's been fairly self-actualized since she was a kid, but she lost a bit of that during the plague - though post-route, she's even more of a force to be reckoned with (in a good way)

Muriel doesn't really care about how the world at large is — he's not very interested in traveling, meeting people, or experiencing new things

He's only focused on his life, and maybe the lives of those immediately around him

If it's just about his life, then he thinks it's pretty bad

He managed to find some peace and fulfillment living in nature on his own, but his childhood as an orphan and then a gladiator stains his view of his surroundings

He isn't trusting of others or really even himself.

He loves animals because they're far easier to understand than humans - and if they hurt you, you can find out exactly why

Though he doesn't really see use of asking “why” any of that had to happen to him, because he doesn't think that much about justice — perhaps because thinking too much about it will make him start feeling worse, and he'd rather just forget

Nothing wrong with wanting to live quietly, but he could definitely become more in touch with his emotions and processing his trauma

He, too, judges people not on some overarching moral about how one should be, but more just on his own conscience - for example, he doesn't like Esme/MC at first, not because he thinks they're really a bad human, but for purely personal reasons.

Lucio doesn't really care about whether the world is good or bad

Like Nadia, he has an effect on the world around him, and that's what he sees

He thinks there's a lot of fun to be had and a lot of boring and bothersome things he’d like to get rid of

It's not about whether the people around him are good or not, it's about how they treat him and what they can do

If it's not his world, then it really ought to be

He'd agree with Asra as well, in that he believes it's up to individuals how they treat the world and their own lives

He believes in being the change you want to see, though he doesn't generally take into account what anyone else wants to see - for sure something to work on

[mollywobbles867]

I am writing this on my laptop so you know I'm srs

So, I am going to out myself as a former hardcore real people shipper. OGs remember. @ginasaurrr, @gleefullysupernaturalpop, @risti7, @wholove

It was 2009 and my dad had died two years prior. I was a fucking mess. I was a teacher when he died, two months into my first teaching job (that I started a month into the school year so I was fighting for my life when it came to lesson plans). I went back for two weeks after he died, but I was experiencing heavy suicide ideation and was fighting tears through every class. (Note to alert bots, I am okay now after a lot of therapy and medication). I was of no use to those kids and I am so sorry that they had such a shitty teacher that year. My principal was extremely unsupportive, so I went to my union rep and got out of my contract post haste. I started having panic attacks on the regular (figured out much later that I have PMDD so that's why it came in two week cycles).

Anyway, I was unemployed, living with my mom, and extremely lost. Then one night in 2009 my sis was over and insisted on watching American Idol because she was obsessed with Adam Lambert. I loved his voice so I started watching every week and grew to love a few of the other contestants too. I paid attention to the American Idol posts on ONTD on LJ. There were soon posts shipping Adam and Kris Allen, even though Kris was married to a woman.

ONTD got annoyed with all the posts, so someone started ontd_ai where we posted to our heart's content, a good many of them about shipping the two singers. We broke the fourth wall way too much for sure. (#gokeyisadouche). I have actually blocked out a lot of the details, but one thing I remember is that soon there was an AIM chat (yeah I'm old) dedicated to talking about our ship. And unfortunately, we also talked about Kris's wife's mental health struggles. No idea how we ever even knew about them. While I expressed empathy for her in the chat as did most of us, someone took screenshots and said we were bashing her. It blew up and made it to fandomwank. At some point we started our own LJ community too. We put tinhats on our profile pics, etc. We were tinhatters instead of delulus. I wrote Kradam rpf as well as flashfic for other fandom ships. Astolat herself wrote Kradam fic! (shout out to the cowboy fic, that hurt my feelings).

All this is to say that I know how you can get obsessed with solving some sort of story you have invented, looking for clues in song lyrics, performances, interviews, etc... and ignore reality. Really what you're searching for is answers for your own life.

Through post after post saying how it would be totally okay for Kris to come out as bi, I finally came out to myself, then my bff, then my sis, then my mom and nephews, and now whenever I feel safe with someone and online strangers.

After a year I applied to grad school and got my life back on track; went back to therapy, got on meds, found other hobbies, made new friends, eventually started working again even if it was just retail.

What are you searching for?

What are you struggling with?

What about Luke and Nicola's interactions or as individuals draws you to the ship? Are you projecting your own insecurities and identity struggle onto her? Are you projecting someone who hurt you onto Luke? I promise that Nicola is not crying herself to sleep every night because she's not with Luke or because he's with a thin woman. Luke is not a fuckboy or disingenuous just because he's with a thin woman.

I encourage you to take a step back and self-reflect because you are the ones who are doing the hurting.

P.S. We tinhatters were always publicly nice to Kris's wife on his and SM pages and when we met him after concerts and she was there. Why? Because she's a person too and I honestly hope they are the happiest they have ever been. Kris still makes (great) albums and they have kids (two unless they had another and I didn't know). Adam has been touring with Queen and I have no clue about his love life. It's nice.

However, I do think our fourth wall breaking made it so they stopped being public with their friendship. Just sayin'.

Look at the beauty we deprived the world and weep.