#he’s one fuck away from death

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Hii I loved your Alec fan fic sm any more Alec x f reader smut coming ?😭

Come As You Are

A/N: of course more Alec is coming, I just need time love. This one is for my midsize girlies ❤️

Summary: The Reader is feeling insecure about herself and Alec wants to help

Tags: 18+ minors dni, insecurity and mentions of body dysmorphia and self hatred, praise kink, body worship, consensual possessive language, and some fluff :)

The woman in front of her was thin and tall, with a beautiful head of curls and dark skin. Her eyes were shrewd as they took in DS Y/N Warner, standing in her frumpy suit with a notepad at the ready. Yet she certainly didn't look poorly on DI Alec Hardy, not that he would have noticed her little flirts. She angled her hips one way, answered his questions primarily, and smiled widely at his words, always looking right at him. If Y/N wasn't careful and reminding herself that she was on the clock, she had half a mind to kiss Alec right there and claim him. But she didn't.

DI Alec Hardy went to the car, and Y/N lingered for just a moment to clarify one of the points that got fuzzy.

"Right, and you work for Joan Topper Model Agency? Not to be confused with Topper Jane's Agency?" Y/N asked, checking the reference she had from the lady who'd referred them to this woman.

The woman nodded, her lips close to a sneer, "it's a very elite agency, Joan Topper."

"I'm sure."

The woman cocked her head to the side, "are you?"

DS Warner swallowed hard. She did not like not liking other women, it made her feel like a bad feminist. She should overthrow the ideas of women hurting other women and focus on the more particular idea that men made it up to make women dislike one another. And while that was very likely, it wasn't impossible for two things to exist at once. Men try to make women hate each other, and some women are just bitches. Not because they're women but because they're people.

And this woman, who couldn't possibly be over 21, with her gorgeous figure and curly hair, just happened to be one of those special humans. And it irked Y/N.

"You can't be over a size 4," the woman pressed. It was unclear if she meant you couldn't be over a size 4 in the agency, or in life. Her eyes lingered at Hardy's retreating form. "Men don't like it much."

DS Warner smiled tightly and nodded, walking back to the car and quickly getting in so she wouldn't have to see that woman again. Alec didn't notice the change in Y/N's mood, he wasn't always the best at that.

Instead of going to the station, they went back to Y/N's house. Alec hadn't actually moved in, but that was more of a title really. He stayed there nearly every night, had a section of the closet, and referred to it as home. They both knew that once they wrapped up this case, they would set aside a weekend and officially move in, but when cases got busy neither felt they could take even a day off. Work got in the way like that.

"Right, I'm going to pop in the shower then I'll be down to help," Y/N said, toeing off her shoes at the door.

"M'kay," Hardy answered with a wave of his hand, files in his arms.

She went up to the loo, started the shower and made quick work of her uniform. Her image in the mirror made her stop.

Normally, people described the moment before a shower as some of the most attractive. Moments when all of a sudden insecurities melt away and you could spend ages doing dance battles with yourself. This was not one of those days for Y/N. Maybe it was the insecurities she already had buried beneath the surface, maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the woman who had subtly insulted her appearance, but whatever the cause she found she hated what she saw.

Y/N always felt a little trapped when she expressed her insecurities to friends. She couldn't say she was thin, because she wasn't. But she couldn't say she was fat, because she wasn't. She was an awkward middle ground that certainly didn't feel sexy. Her thighs touched when she stood, covered in little stretch marks and led to a small bush she tried to trim but it always looked wrong. Along her boobs there were stretch marks like purple tiger stripes, and she had small red bumps she couldn't explain. Of course in between the two lied the worst of the worst, a belly just bloated enough to look pregnant when she very much wasn't. Nope, Y/N was not a fan of this body.

Her cheeks flushed with emotion and the heat of the shower, and she tried to ignore it as she got in and scrubbed off the day. Her hair was clean so she left it up and tried to calm herself when she noticed her efforts were too harsh. God damn it, this was not what she had intended.

Not long after she joined Hardy at the kitchen table, sipping her hot chocolate he'd made, and pouring over the case files. Her mind began to wander but she was intent on stopping it.

"You alright?" Alec's thick Scottish accent broke her from the bank's reports, and it was among the first words he'd spoken all evening.

"Y-yeah," she said, not quite knowing what he was referring to. "Why?"

"You don't seem right."

Y/N didn't know how to respond, so she shrugged her shoulders, "I'm ... fine?"

He narrowed his eyes. Alec Hardy felt like he was in a bit of a limbo at the moment. His instinct was telling him that something was bothering Y/N, she seemed sad and distant. However, Alec was not known for having the best instinct with people and their feelings. He couldn't tell if he should leave it or press on. But it was DI Alec Hardy and he wasn't a fan of lying. "After that last interview you've gone funky."

If Y/N wasn't so uncomfortable trying to think of how to not expose this lame part of herself to Alec, she'd have focused on him using the word funky. "I didn't like her much."

"Did she say something?"

"More or less."

"Warner stop evading the question and tell me what's wrong." His voice was intense as he spoke, chocolate eyes imploring.

"I don’t like my body, I'm ugly," she said quickly, as though it would take away everything else.

Alec blinked, "wot?"

"I'm ugly and fat, Alec."

DI Alec Hardy did not know a lot of things. He was shit at expressing emotions and understanding others, he did not understand social media, thought scotch eggs were gross, had a temper, and was shit at accepting help. But he knew one thing. His Y/N was not ugly.

"No you're not." She laughed bitterly and looked away. He said it louder, his tone more stern. "Y/N you are not ugly and you're not fat."

Y/N's throat was tight as she said, "thanks Alec." She didn't mean it, they both knew she didn't mean it.

"Y/N-"

"It's fine, can just get on with it?" She snapped, her voice a hair away from a yell. Alec saw her retreat further into herself. "Sorry."

He sighed, closing his eyes to try and make his thinking clearer. Alec was proper rubbish at dealing with any of this. But then he had any idea, an idea she probably didn't expect. The detective stood up and walked towards the stairs.

His ever inquisitive Y/N craned her neck to watch as he went up the steps. He was impressed she managed to last a full minute without following after him, in which time he removed his jacket and shoes, before she appeared in the bedroom door frame with a questioning look on her face.

"C'mhere."

She did, though her steps were slow as she watched him with a shrewd eye. He took her hands in his, running his thumb over her knuckles. Alec's hands were always calloused and he never knew why, as he didn't do much physical labor. She liked how they felt.

Alec brought her hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss on each of them, "I love your hands."

He could see the little flush on her cheeks start up, but she didn't say anything else. Alec went to the edge of the bed, bringing her to sit between his legs, his chest up against her back. His hands ran up her arms, "I love that when I do that you get goose flesh."

"Alec what're you doing?"

"You've got lovely arms, lovely shoulders." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the skin of both. Then Alec pointed a finger in front of them, towards the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. They painted a lovely picture, a woman held by her man as he lavished soft touches on her. He planned to make the picture prettier. Though he wasn't always confident in sex, he was confident that he loved Y/N and that her self image was wrong. And that confidence overrode all other feelings of inadequacy.

"Alec..." she didn't know what to say. She had a feeling she knew what he was up to and she didn't know if she could handle it. He was being awfully sweet. And the scratch of his beard made her sigh. His fingers came to the straps of her flimsy, pajama tank top, pulling them until they snapped back on her skin.

In the mirror, Alec glanced up and made eye contact with her. His face was kind, tired but not of her. His hair was dark and mused, his eyes so chocolate it hurt to look at. And his freckles, the most wonderful part of the man was the freckles that ran along his face as though he never left the sun as a child. She nodded slightly, knowing that he was asking for permission.

The straps fell down, and Alec pushed the top down until her breasts fell from them, heavy and heaving against her chest. Almost instantly she felt a growing hardness against her bum, and she flushed incredulously. His hands came round and held her breasts, letting them overflow in his touch.

Throughout their entire relationship, Alec was not one who would just speak. He was the silent brooding type. The kind of guy who grunted when he asked if he fancied a pint - the answer was always no, he didn't drink. But Alec knew Y/N loved his voice, she called it sexy and he'd caught her getting off to a voicemail of his once. Whenever he got loud in the office, had to yell at someone, he noticed the way her thighs would clench and her cheeks flush. So while he was most certainly clunky at it, he tried his best to speak through his thoughts for her, hoping it could help her get to him.

"They’re one of my favorite bits of you," he murmured, his voice suddenly throaty as though he was struggling to speak with the sight of your breasts out and about.

He pressed them together, showing the deep line of her cleavage. "Don't get that on just anyone, now do ya?"

Y/N wanted to believe him, to look in the mirror and see a creature that was as attractive and he believed, but she just couldn't. Her words were soft but they were there as she said, "I have stretch marks and bumps."

Alec's brow furrowed and he held her chest tighter before letting them fall back. He was fully hard now and didn't shy away from letting her feel the affect she had on him.

"No one can expect your skin to remain the same your whole life. Doesn’t make it ugly." He said, kiss the junction between her neck and shoulder. She leaned her head back into him, letting herself feeling those beautifully calloused hands as they teased at her nipples, those soft lips kissing her skin.

He slowly dragged the tank top down until it met the waistband of her shorts. She did not look down to see the image in the mirror, this was not the body part she wanted to see. His hands were featherlight as they travelled down her abdomen, running his fingers along the rolls of her skin. The thought alone made her want to cry. Alec let out a breath, "you're so fucking soft."

That was not quite what she wanted to hear, soft wasn’t a word she felt was a good thing. Though that hadn't been his intention, Alec thought soft was one of the best things a body could be. He tried again, bringing his hands to her hips, "I love your belly. It's cute."

"It's not sexy."

"Fuck yeah it is," he argued. Alec pulled away from her and went to kneel in front of the bed. He spread her legs and went on his knees, putting his face right at her chest, which he noticed right away. Hardy brought his hand to her face and made her look at him, and he blew out a breath. She was a vision, leaned back, heavy breasts on full display and legs spread like a goddess.

He pressed a kiss in between her breasts, letting his tongue nip out to taste her skin. She giggled and said, "Alec!"

He brought his mouth down to her stomach, kissing each roll and holding her tightly. His beard itched and cause a pink rash to form, but she didn't have the urge to fight it. All along her abdomen, DI Alec Hardy peppered hot, wet kisses with nips of teeth. Then he growled softly, turning to see the mirror and force her to see what he saw. A stomach with small little love bites. "I decide what I find sexy. And that's sexy."

She hadn't even realized that she had started crying until it dripped down her face. It wasn't a sad tear, not really. It was more an overwhelming realization that Alec wasn't messing about, he wasn't saying this because he loved her. As his hands ran up her legs, prickly from unshaven hairs, he kissed and growled against her skin with the kindest love she'd felt. And she gladly let him remove her panties and shorts until she was bare, spread for him.

"I love your breasts and I love your belly, but these are some of my favorites," Alec said and he moved her thighs to sit on his shoulders. He bit at her thighs, lowering his kiss with each moment. Then he was there at the apex of her legs, with her slightly hairy, fully glistening cunt. His hot breath hit her as he murmured, "hey darling."

She shuddered, her body involuntarily moving to the sound of his voice. She had to stop the yelp that tried to escape when he extended his tongue and licked her bottom to top.

“I love that you’re so responsive down here,” Alec said between peppered kisses, letting his teeth ever so softly graze across her clit before sliding his tongue into her opening. Her muscles clenched, thighs beginning to shake as he lavished her. “I love the taste of you.”

He moved up, letting his beard scratch along her inner thighs in the way he knew she liked. Alec brought a careful finger to her opening, sliding it in with ease. She started to grind against it, hips bucking to meet his tongue as he began proper work on her clit. His fingers were long as they pumped in and out, curling i side her in the way that made her gasp. He laughed against her, he fucking laughed. A deep chuckle that radiated through her body, sending her arousal through the roof until her thighs were clamped round his head.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered against her. But she heard it, and practically shoved him into her. Then Alec said, “you look so beautiful, you’re doing so good love. I’m so proud of my girl.”

Y/N cried out as she came, her body convulsing with each wave. It was positively impossible to describe, a kind of hazy pleasure that takes you from this world until you’re left panting on a bed, wondering how your antisocial detective boyfriend learned to do all of that. Her legs spasmed, squeezing against him in the way he adored.

Alec eased her through it, his kisses soft and messy. Her juices covered his face, were in his beard, but he seemed to proudly display her. Her thighs were going to be red from beard rash and covered in little love bites, some more possessive than others and she relished them all.

“Such a beautiful darling,” Alec said, rising slowly as he moved up her body. “I love your body, it’s bloody sexy is what it is. But my favorite part, yes even more than your breasts, is your face.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her, he kissed her with everything he had. It was rhat desperate, dizzying sort of kiss where words went unspoken but understood. She sighed, crying but now it wasn’t a hatred. Just like she realized earlier, and now it seemed to sink, Alec loved her regardless. He didn’t just put up with insecurities, he fought to fight them with her and show her what he saw. She might not see it yet, but to know that someone like him had eyes like that was comforting.

He tasted of her, of her musk and sweat and sex, and she found it embarrassingly arousing to know it was her wetness that did this to him.

Alec came up to the bed quickly, getting in the same position from earlier. Him behind her with her body in between his legs. Alex brought her to lean on him so her neck was ready for biting, “I fucking love your neck.”

“Bloody vampire!” She laughed.

Alec chuckled, bring his hands down her sides to grip her thighs. “That so?” With a strong yet gentle touch, he spread her thighs wide enough to rest on his, locking her in place.

“Alec I need you…”

“Oh what a pretty picture you make,” Alec whispered along her skin as he removed his cock from his trousers, going under her arse to tease at her opening. “Oh look at you, you’re gorgeous. My beautiful angel grinding against my cock, spread for the world to see. Perhaps another day. Shall I show you just how lovely you are, darling?”

Fuck. For someone who’d not done much dirty talk, he was damn good at it. She whined for him to take her, and he happily obliged, sinking into her with a slow thrust.

He let out a hiss at the feeling of her taut muscles clenching around him, holding him in place as though she couldn’t hear to lose him. She gasped the fullness, relishing in it and grinding just enough to cause Alec to make a guttural sound.

“You keep goin like that Angel and I won’t last much longer.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, moving her hips again.

That movement broke Alec. He kept one hand tight on her hip, the other snaking down her body to start desperate ministrations on her clit. He thrust into her with a fury, bucking his hips to get as deep as he can. Y/N groaned, shocked at how quickly he was bringing her to climax.

“Come in me,” she said between breathy sighs. “Make me yours.”

Something in that sent the man wild. He stood, quickly helping prop Y/N up doggy style on the bed, and began to truly fuck her the way they both intended. They were so close to climax, his strokes uneven and wild, her clit buzzing with life.

“Say it again, angel. Tell me to make you mine.”

“I’m yours,” she groaned. “Come in me, I need you. I’m yours, make me yours.”

And he did, falling slightly into her and having to support himself on the mattress. He groaned loudly, those freckles flushing. But he knew she hadn’t come again, and he kept himself inside her as he leaned down, “now, any man you ever fuck you’ll know I’m here. You’re mine, angel. My darling.”

With a flick of his wrist, she came undone.

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[thwispsings]

the idea came to me in a migraine induced dream but now im obsessed with the concept of a mu qingfang who knew the abuse bunhe was going through at the hands of og!shen qingqiu/shen jiu and did his best to treat the kid whenever he could (and bring his concerns to zhangmen shixiong, which were obviously very much ignored) and his constant worry over the situation means that when the qi deviation happens he is suspicious of shen qingqiu’s changes for all different reasons and very much protective of luo binghe -who is a sweet child and an earnest disciple who seems to always find the most incredible medicinal herbs to bring to his mu shishu as thanks for the care bestowed upon him- which means that when the whole shen qingqiu dying thing happens instead of bad mouthing luo binghe or fighting him at every chance he does his best to come over and keep an eye on things to try and help him and make sure luo binghe won’t kill himself trying to bring shen qingqiu back because he remembers that earnest kid and he’s witnessed luo binghe’s devotion to this shen qingqiu first hand and knows there is no way that the kid who cried when ning yingying found a bird with a broken wing and begged mu qingfang to fix it and the kid that would always borrow medical texts and try to find new herb combinations as if it was a game between him and qian cao disciples is actually doing anything nefarious to shen qingqiu’s corpse.

anyways in this essay i will-

[kazoologist]

congratulations to Mme. Pascale Leclerc, who has surely just experienced both the funniest and most unhinged weekend a mother could ever have. Dear fucking christ, I hope your middlest son brought you a bottle of champagne for yourself, ma'am.

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[velvetjune]

the chapter songs in Alan Wake 2,, flawless

[shhh-secret-time]

To be honest, stardew valley has me in such a chokehold. It always has, even before the 1.6.

In such a way that my brain wants to smash my hyperfixation into it. So late at night I'll be awake thinking of this stardew/south park mashup.

Call that bad boy Star Park AU.

But no brain! Bad! We already have too much going on! You have a Secret Soulmate AU. Fantasy AU, A Cowboy AU story staring Kenny that's still in the outline phase, and these one shots!

(Look at the tags to watch me descent into madness)

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

another blake because he's my favourite for psychoanalysis reasons <3

[samsno1]

just saw someome saying, yet again, "dean loved sam much more than sam loved dean" and i think 10 years of my life time were taken away

[jabberwockprince]

since we're all having fun talking about theories and headcanons before the game drops. one thing that i do want for missing link, that is mostly wishful thinking on my part, is a reveal for kairi being a descendant of the player

this is based on their parallels of being shooting stars later found washed up on a beach from the new missing link trailer, plus that one moment from KH1 where kairi's grandma tells her about the age of the fairytales and nothing else lmfao

and i want that so badly because. it would be so fucking ironic and poetic to have kairi be a direct descendant of the one person that raised and cared so much for xehanort. the player, whose memories of ephemer and skuld and chirithy and everyone else influenced xehanort into starting his whole ass spiral and descent into darkness

only for her (and sora) to be the ones to get xehanort to stop in the end. ending a cycle of sorts. for her to be haunted by the memory of xehanort, the same way xehanort was "haunted" by the memory of the player's past life

PLUS. i want it to SPECIFICALLY recontextualize kairi's inheritance of the keyblade from BBS. because kairi's reason to wield a keyblade being nothing more than an "accident" feels like such a disservice to her AND aqua??

if they could recontextualize xehanort into whole new depths in dark road, i dont see why they couldn't reframe that moment as kairi reclaiming a dormant power, her own heritage that her bloodline forgot for centuries, since knowledge about keyblades and wielders began to fade out over time to the point where people who KNEW about them thought they were evil. makes sense that as the age of fairytales is left FORGOTTEN, no one can remember how to summon a keyblade, let alone the knowledge to create one from someone's heart. but having a strong heart (one of the requisites for bequeathing ceremonies) and being in direct contact with a keyblade, could just. help jog the memory a bit

and show that yeah. kairi deserves to wield a keyblade because she has a strong heart, and because this was her heritage that was taken away from her when the worlds began to drift away from each other and so on. not because of an accident

everytime chance, fate and destiny are brought up in the saga to explain why something. happened the way it did. it carries so much weight and so many events that led to That Point. but kairi's inheritance as of right now was just. yeah, an accident. no ceremony at all AND I JUST THINK SHE DESERVES RLLY COOL THINGS OKAY

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

[tea-cat-arts]

Kevin is a fun character for me because the character the game repeatedly tells us he is and the character the game repeatedly shows us he is are just… blatantly two different characters, but regardless of which one you choose to believe is canon, he’s still one of the most sympathetic mf in the game and I will be very upset if he’s actually killed off

[dylanconrique]

thinking about "i-i pushed her right at him" and how guilty tim felt about giving lucy the advice to go out with caleb, and how he is going to feel like he's responsible for putting her in the hospital again if it really is this person from his past who targets her.

[bougiebutchbitch]

people talking about izzy and ed's weird as fuck codependent toxic unhealthy relationship: yeah!! yeah!!!!!!

people talking about izzy and ed's weird as fuck codependent toxic unhealthy relationship who obviously dislike Izzy as a character, and are acting like he 'deserved' everything he got and was somehow 'the real bad guy' of that whole situation because of the fucked up shit he pulled in S1: ..........?

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[mamawasatesttube]

thinking about him again... (robin kon...)