#his dedication determination and focus are truly one of a kind

[doumadono]

Hello. Your comforting stories have been incredibly helpful to me and they are so well-written. I'm wondering if it would be possible to request a piece (emergency request) that deals with anxiety and panic attacks. If this topic isn't suitable for you, please feel free to ignore this request. I'm looking for a scenario involving either Midoriya or Kirishima or Bakugou or Hawks providing support to their significant other during a panic attack caused by a triggering friend. Lately, there have been numerous triggers around me, especially from people I care about, which has led me to have anxious breakdowns. I'm really in need of some support. Could you write a piece that's heartwarmingly sweet and focuses on distracting the significant other from negative thoughts? Thank you in advance. You dedicate so much of your time to us readers, always displaying incredible kindness. I'd love to be your friend

A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you've been facing such challenging times lately. Dealing with triggers, especially from people you care about, can be incredibly tough and overwhelming. Remember that you're not alone in this. Be kind to yourself and take things one step at a time. You're resilient, and brighter days are ahead. Also, feel free to reach out to me - I'm so willing to make new friends!

MASTERLIST

Kirishima

You were having a panic attack triggered by an encounter with a friend who reminded you of a traumatic event. Amidst the turmoil of your panic attack, a strong yet gentle arm slipped around your shoulders. Kirishima's familiar presence was comforting, and his voice held a reassuring warmth. "Hey, you're not alone in this struggle. I've got your back, just like we've always had each other's. Don't pay too much attention to that encounter." His words carried a sense of camaraderie that only someone like Kirishima could provide.

"I-I can't do this, Eijiro…" You whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you clung to him, he squeezed your shoulder gently. "Remember that time we pushed through during training? We took on tough challenges, faced our fears, and came out even stronger. This is no different. We'll face it together." His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of determination and empathy shining within them. "Instead of letting those negative thoughts control you, let's focus on something positive. How about we plan our next fun outing? Maybe ice cream and a movie marathon?"

His suggestion was genuine, and you couldn't help but smile through the residual unease. His unwavering support was a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. With Kirishima by your side, you felt stronger, just like when you faced challenges together as friends and partners.

Bakugo

You experienced a panic attack due to a triggering encounter with an old friend who was very unkind to you, saying a lot of wry words. In the midst of your anxious breakdown, a fiery presence seemed to engulf you. Bakugo, surprisingly, knelt down in front of you. His usually intense gaze softened, revealing a concern you hadn't expected.

"I-I can't breathe, Katsuki…" You whined, choking on your own tears.

"Tch, don't let that damn idiot mess with your head. You're stronger than that crap." His hand cupped your cheek, his touch both unexpected and oddly comforting. "Think of a time when you kicked ass. Remind yourself who you are — someone who won't back down."

His voice, though still intense, held an unexpected gentleness. "I've seen you push through tough situations. You're resilient as hell." He leaned in slightly, his brows furrowed. "Now, let's do something to distract your mind. How about watching some sweet, stupid videos online? You like them. They won't be as spectacular as my explosions, obviously, but they might help get your mind off those thoughts for a while, nerd. Oh, and say just a word and I'll fucking blow them up. Understood?"

It wasn't the comfort you were used to, but it was genuine and uniquely Bakugo. He might not show it like others, but he cared. And in his own way, he was trying to help you weather this storm of anxiety.

Hawks

You were in the middle of a panic attack triggered by an unsettling conversation with an old friend of yours. As your panic attack gripped you, a calming presence settled beside you. Hawks knelt down, his wings spreading slightly as if to shield you from the outside world. His eyes held an empathetic understanding, a silent assurance that he was here for you.

"I can't think straight, Hawks…" You admitted.

"You know, you've got wings too," he said suddenly, his fingers brushing your hair back gently. "Not the literal ones, but the strength to rise above this situation."

His soothing voice carried a sense of calm, and his touch was comforting in its gentleness. "Let's focus on something else. Imagine we're soaring above the clouds, leaving those negative thoughts far behind." Hawks' wings unfurled gently, their red feathers cascading like a protective cocoon. With a tender and understanding expression, he moved closer, his wings slowly enveloping you in their warmth. The soft rustling of feathers created a soothing rhythm, and the delicate touch of his feathers against your skin brought a sense of comfort.

Amidst the chaos, he offered a moment of serenity, reminding you that you were not alone in this battle.

Midoriya

You were caught in a panic attack after a distressing interaction with a triggering friend that hurt you previously. While you were enveloped by your anxious breakdown, a gentle smile greeted you as Midoriya sat down in front of you. His kind eyes held an understanding that only someone who had battled their inner demons could offer.

"I-I feel so useless, Izuku," you whispered.

"I know how it feels to battle your own mind and unpleasant situations," he said softly, his voice holding the same compassion he showed during his hero acts. "But remember, you're not alone."

His hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "Instead of letting those negative thoughts consume you, let's reminisce about the times we've laughed till our sides hurt. Those are the moments worth fighting for, right?"

He wasn't just offering comfort; he was sharing a piece of his own resilience and reminding you that you possessed the strength to overcome these challenges.

[eldritch-spouse]

pinnie mummy thank you for feeding us on the daily mwah. feel free to ignore this as it's very self indulgent but I've just finished work at 2 am again and I can't stop thinking about sth. Who do you think would like (or at the very least be able to handle) a workaholic partner - and who'd absolutely loathe it? Workaholic as in - 'I need to finish this I can't talk to anyone or get distracted by anything till I get stuff done'.

Would enjoy/get along with a workaholic:

Pinter thinks that's the fucking spirit right there! A good worker is a good partner! Your sheer determination to get things done quickly and to never leave loose ends makes him value you immensely as a person and partner. He'll be right beside you pulling 2 to 3am work shifts.

Patches feels a bit more at home with someone who understands what it's like to have a lot of work in their hands. Whether or not you're passionate about said work is a whole other story, but he's the type of guy that will pull all-nighters without hesitation. The dullahan does worry for your health though, he's undead -It can't get much worse- You're alive.

Morell is a hard worker as well. He gets into he hum drum of routine very easily and he's not fond of distractions, to the point where he might tell others to shut the fuck up while he works. This means that he'll understand when you need focus and won't push much, though there comes a time where he forcibly makes you stop.

Cero works harder than you'd expect. Sure, he's an arrogant cunt, but some of his genuine and well-earned pride comes from the fact that he's a diligent worker. He silently admires your dedication, even if all you hear is an insult about not being able to find a balance.

Rieba and Jayde are hard working imps, they see a lot of themselves in you. And while one is more visibly stressed than the other, both are kind of hot messes and appreciate someone who can empathize with their 2am struggles.

**Hudsyn hopes your all-nighters are born of feverish mania and energetic episodes like his, but that might not be the case, it usually isn't. Still, he's there to make sure you don't pass out. And, if you choose to, he's there to pick you up.

Can "handle it":

Zizz can handle a workaholic, in the sense that he'll set a timer for how long into the night you're allowed to stay awake, then will make his way over to you, put a hand on your head and swiftly make you conk the fuck out for as long as he deems necessary.

Belo and Jonesy love your sense of duty! It's truly a beautiful thing to see in a lesser. You're exemplary and so very determined, they swoon at the sight alone. However, Jonesy is quick to dictate that you can no longer keep working after a set amount of time, and Belo will join in on your task when he notices it's getting too late for a human to be up.

Nebul likes discipline. It's nice to know that you don't have trouble focusing on a specific task for long periods of time, that you don't complain about it. He's filing that way for later, when it's time to train you. That being said, the wraith is very much willing to use his authoritative presence to intimidate you out of exhausting yourself.

Flints, much like Nebul, enjoys someone who can focus easily and isn't so easily swayed out of their responsibilities. But he's going to stand next to you silently at some point, tapping a bat on his palm. It's only a matter of time until he starts heading your way with that bat if you don't go the fuck to sleep.

Hates it:

Roch doesn't like seeing you work that much, it genuinely makes him stress out over you. It's bad, like at least take some naps! He'll go out of his way to get on your lap or fall asleep on your work like a house cat. That's enough for a day, stop it.

Fank-e can't stand seeing you so focused for so long at a time. He gets antsy over not having enough interaction with you and can't stay quiet for too long, so your annoyed outbursts will hurt him. He just doesn't know what to do aside from sit there and fidget, forcing himself to be quiet, or just leave.

Fasma won't quit chastising you over how destructive those habits are for your health. Like, you might as well start smoking kid, the way you want to get a burnout, back problems or a depressive episode- You're too young to be doing that shit to your body, take a fucking breather...

Obie likewise doesn't enjoy seeing you stay up so late over things that, to him, seem trivial. Stuff you could finish later or tomorrow. It reminds him of his mom, how she sometimes had to work much more than most sloth demons tolerate, and it would occasionally show in the way her mood would plummet.

Grimbly will perceive this as being ignored and will immediately hate it. There'll be many petty comments about how you don't even really need to work that specific job anyway. Sure, he likes to be spoiled, but working at The Clergy's Eye means he probably makes a lot more money than you, you know?

**[The ending of our little game with Hudsyn will alter him permanently as a character, meaning that depending on how things go, he'll behave very differently in many scenarios. So, in case things sour and you're reading this in the future thinking "That's not the Hudd I know", just know that we're still mid-game here :7]

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Friends With Benefits Part 4/6

Summary - Reader and Ruben have been in a friends with benefits situation for over three years now, with Reader eventually looking for something more serious. But what does Ruben want?

Enjoy!

"So what's Joshua up to?" Your friend Tina asked, as the two of you stood folding the newest collection of sweaters.

"My boyfriend?" You blushed.

After months of recollection to get back on track with your life, you were determined to put your past behind you and focus on your career at Ralph Lauren. Your colleagues even noticed the change in you and with each passing day you found yourself becoming more dedicated and committed to your job. You were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. You poured all your energy into creating exquisite displays and styling customers, making sure they walked out of the store feeling confident and satisfied.

As your career soared, so did your love life. You met Joshua, a kind and charming man who appreciated your passion for fashion. You shared an instant connection, and you found yourself falling for him. Your relationship was filled with laughter, support, and encouragement, serving as a stark contrast to the toxic dynamic you had experienced with Ruben.

"He's actually in town, looking for an apartment to rent."

"He's not staying with you?"

You shook your head. "Not yet. But I don't think it will be long before he does."

"Wow, so you and Ruben are really over?"

"Yes." You were quick to answer, ignoring the sudden jolt of your heart.

"Good for you."

Tina left you with the pile of sweaters to deal with a new client that just entered the shop. All though she was right that you and Ruben were truly over, you didn't care to mention the many text messages he still sent you, and how you read them all but never replied.

Ruben: I miss you. Let's meet up and talk soon, okay?

Ruben: Y/N, is there anyway I can fix what happened between us?

Ruben: Y/N, you up?

The messages would flood in during all hours of the day. Your theory for this was that Ruben would have his moments of weakness and think of you at random. In reality he probably had plenty of other women lining up outside of his bedroom door.

"Y/N, a little help please?"

You had been daydreaming, folding sweaters mechanically, when Tina came back, looking flushed and in need of your assistance.

"What's going on?" You frowned.

"You'll see." She said and practically pulled you with her to the front of the shop. There he stood....

"Ruben?"

After having been on your mind seconds ago.

"Y/N! I thought that this was where you worked." He grinned, that familiar grin of his, that you've worked so hard to forget.

"What are you doing here?" You frowned.

Tina hit you in the arm.

You winced. "Ouch."

"He's a costumer, Y/N."

She gave you a stern look, indicating that you should be treating Ruben like any other costumer.

"Of course." You said,  bowing your head apologetically.

"I hope I didn't come in a bad time?" He said.

"Of course not." Tina waved, having already put on her best costumer service smile. You, on the other hand, struggled with that.

"What can we do for you today, Mr Dias?"

Ruben looked to you, flashing an amused smile. "I saw your new collection in the window." He said. "I thought, why not try it on?"

"All of it?" You spat.

Tina stepped in.

"Of course you can!"

Ruben smirked. "Great, how about we start with some of the plain whites?"

"Right this way Mr Dias."

Tina led him to the dressing rooms, snapping her fingers at you to prepare the mandatory tray of fruit that all costumers were offered during a fitting such as this one. Those kind of fitting usually lasted an hour though, with costumers trying on an outfit or two. If Ruben was going to try on a whole collection, how long would that take?

"Since when do you wear Ralph Lauren?"

It turned out to be a busy day at the shop. Tina left you to deal with Ruben as your costumer, since you "happened to know" all of his measurements already.

"Since when do you wear Saint Laurent perfume." He chuckled.

"Just answer my question Ruben, what are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Mr Dias?"

You rolled your eyes.

The two of you were confined to his dressing room, where you helped him roll up the sleeve to the shirt he was trying on.

"I came to see you of course?" He said,  tilting his head a little, meeting your eyes.

"Is that so?" You muttered, too busy with fitting him into his clothes.

"How have you been , Y/N? I've missed you."

"Ruben please." You sighed.

"What?"

How could he do this to you, showing up out of the blue?

"I haven't seen you for months and now suddenly here you are?"

"Here I am." He shrugged.

"I've been trying so hard to forget about you and now..."

"With trying, you mean...not succeeding?" He raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes.

"Y/N, I'm just fucking with you. I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"Really?"

"Really." He nodded. "I've got an event in the evening and thought I might as well try on some outfits when I have someone who can give me their employee discount."

"Who, me?'

He shrugged.

You burst out laughing. "Ruben I'm not giving you no discount."

"Why not? Because I'm rich? I'm sure that counts as discrimination at this day and age."

You laughed again, throwing your head back. "Ruben, what do you know of any form of discrimination? At best I bet your mom didn't let you have dessert before eating your vegetables."

"Hey?" He frowned. "Don't talk about my Mamãe." He nudged your arm that held onto his sleeve.

"I'm sorry Ruben, but you have to admit, you're not the on to talk."

He muttered something inaudible under his breath.

Your hand left his sleeve and went to the buttons on his chest, his large pecs resting underneath the palm of your hands.

"Like this right, that's how you like it?"

You unhooked two of his buttons, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

"One more." He whispered.

You raised your head, a big mistake. You were now looking deeply into his eyes.

"One more should do it." Ruben winked.

You lowered your gaze, hiding you flushed expression, staring blankly into his chest.

"Y/N, I..."

"Ruben don't. "

His hands had gone rest on both sides of your waist a long time ago. You left them there because the rush that flooded your veins when they did felt so good, but also so wrong.

"Y/N, I..."

"I said, don't...say another word Ruben. Not a single word."

You were afraid that if he did, if he said something to win you back, you'd be too weak to resist him and jump into his arms right there and then.

"Okay, I won't say anything."

"You just did."

The pressure on your waist increased as Ruben moved his hands upwards, caressing your ribs.

"I just wanted you to know that I made a mistake and that I want you back."

You looked up, meeting his soft expression with a frown.

"I want us to try again Y/N, I want you to be my girlfriend."

"Um...what?"

He bent down, his large frame already towering over you. The kiss came as a surprise, but you quickly made yourself familiar with his lips. Soon Ruben had you pressed to the dressing room wall, a hand up your skirt. You were drowning in his kisses, deep and laced with a lustful wanting.

"Y/N, I think you should..."

Tina pulled the dressing room curtains and gasped. You and Ruben managed to pull away from each other, but not fast enough to avoid your colleague from seeing the explicit show that you had just put on.

"Tina, I can..."

She put up a hand, silencing you.

"But I..."

She shook her head, with an expression of terror. "Joshua is here."

"What!" Quickly, you wiped your lips and straightened your skirt.

"He says he brought you lunch." Her gaze shifted over your shoulder to where Ruben stood. "But I guess you're not so hungry anymore?"

"Who's here?" Ruben frowned.

"Fuck me." You sighed.

The universe seemed to revel in finding new ways to torment you. Just when you thought that you had your shit together. "There you are!"

Your eyes widened as you beheld your boyfriend Joshua's familiar form striding in. His humble gaze connected with yours, however, somthing shifted in his expression as you approached him with something, or should you say someone, walking closely behind you.

You turned, noticing Ruben. His gaze intensified, a mixture of curiosity and envy dancing within his piercing eyes.

"Joshua, what are you doing here?" You said.

"Lunch break?" He said holdingup a briwn paperbag. He approached you, planting a swift kiss upon your already plump lips.

"Oh, well I..."

You had been too busy dealing with Ruben all day that you had forgotten that you and Joshua were supposed to meet up for lunch.

"Are you busy with a costumer? Don't worry I'll wait."

"Oh...okay."

Ruben made his way over to the cash register, a predatory glint in his eyes. You weren't sure of which items he had decided to buy, since he had barely finished trying on the new collection.

"Joshua?" He chuckled, low enough so that only the two of you could hear

"Yes, he's my boyfriend." You muttured.

Ruben's eyes widened, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You scanned the clothes that he had brought forward, a sweater and two pairs of pantaloons.

"That'll be 699£." You said.

Ruben pulled out his wallet without saying a word, swiping his credit card, paying for his items.

"Your receipt?"

He looked down on your outstretched hand, offering him the piece of paper.

"Keep it." He winked.

Ruben left the store without acknowledging Joshua, without even throwing him a second glance.

"So..." Tina said, standing by, observing all of your drama unfold. "I guess you're going off to have lunch?"

You nodded, tossing Ruben's receipt in the trash. "I'll be back in an hour."

Tagslist:

@kathb59

@riyayaa

[wherebettertoescape]

A Little Life - Harold Pinter Theatre

For anyone who does wish to attend this production, please don’t take the content warnings lightly - the self-harm is graphic and two characters have full-frontal nudity. 

I (Freddie) attended the matinee production at the Harold Pinter Theatre in London on Sunday 7th May

THIS REVIEW/ANALYSIS DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR BOTH THE NOVEL AND STAGE PRODUCTION, SO PLEASE BE AWARE!

Trigger Warnings: talks of self harm, child abuse, sexual assault, domestic abuse and more

There’s no discernible reaction from the audience when Luke Thompson as Willem makes his entrance onto the stage. He’s wearing a dark blue hoodie, the hood pulled up over his hair - perfectly innocuous, nothing spectacular or grand as he walks about the stage. The lights are still bright, the audience is still chatting, laughter is filling the room. And Luke Thompson as Willem is onstage frying himself some bacon and eggs.

What has struck me again and again whenever I reread A Little Life - because, yes, I get a masochistic kind of joy from putting myself through that pain repeatedly - is the intimacy of it. Naturally with any book, the reader is granted the chance to feel close to the characters, to garner a look at their lives behind the veil. But if you were to ask me, I would say that there are very few - if any - novels that create this illusion as Hanya Yanagihara’s does. For 813 pages you are allowed to experience this life as they are, to experience snapshots of their lives - the good, the bad and the unimaginably horrifying - even as the rest of New York, the rest of the world, goes on as normal, with no thought spared to what is occurring within the walls of Lispenard Street and their subsequent homes. 

The awareness that despite what Jude is revealing to the readers about his past, the beyond nightmarish history he has, the world is continuing to go on as normal was perhaps the aspect of the novel I adore so much that I was most scared about losing in adapting it for other mediums.

But from the moment Luke Thompson stepped onto stage, transformed into Willem and beginning to go about his daily life, with the moving images of New York streets surrounding him in his apartment, I knew that my worries had been unfounded. Ivo Van Hove with his unbelievable direction paired with Jan Versweyveld’s set design had found a way to maintain that understanding. 

Throughout almost all of the performance, there is no moment of stasis. Be it JB and Malcom painting and working at desks on the right side of the stage, or Andy reading his book in his clinic, or the ever-present Willem and Harold. 

The former is always in the same spot on a sofa at the back of the stage, flipping through scripts, determined to make it big as an actor, pouring all of his attention and focus onto learning the lines, dedicated to making his dream a reality, and yet always there ready to support Jude. In the second act, Luke Thompson takes the exact same pose when listening to Jude revealing the details of his childhood, desperate to understand his best friend, and at this stage his lover, in the same way he had been desperate to make it as an actor.

Harold, however, spends much of his time on stage left, stationed at the kitchen set up. Constantly in movement, cooking several dishes throughout the course of the play. A reference, perhaps, to the number of Thanksgivings Jude is reported to have spent with him and his wife, Julia (absent from this adaptation). 

Despite the eternal loneliness that James Norton as Jude exudes with just his presence, he is only truly alone for a few moments - the harrowing whisper of “x equals x” that he gasps out after Elliot Cowan as Caleb leaves him naked in the street. It is then that he is alone onstage, laying in his blood, until he is retrieved by his loved ones and taken to rest on Andy’s hospital bed.

It is this detail of James Norton’s performance as Jude that I found the most powerful - which is saying something, considering that I am considering suing him for emotional damages, hasn’t anyone ever told him to think about using his acting powers for good, rather than evil? He captures a side of Jude that I had not previously considered - Jude views himself as a side character in his own life. He doesn’t feel worthy of attention, of his friendships, he is lonely in spite of being surrounded by those he loves the most and as a result feels unable to call out and ask for the help he desperately craves but does not believe that he deserves. 

The contrast between this and the fact that Jude is always centre stage is immense and almost disconcerting to watch and caused me to spend the entire performance practically begging him in my head to just turn around, they’re right there!

But this desire to be helped and to be heard is brought to life by the presence of Nathalie Armin as Ana. The first person in Jude’s life to truly care about him, and the only female in this adaptation of the novel. Armin has a commanding presence on the stage, even as she is a mere figment of Jude’s imagination. Dressed in all black, a stark difference to the bright set, allowing her to melt into the darkness when the spotlight focuses on Norton. 

In many ways, Ana vocalises the audience’s own thoughts - pleading with Jude to confide in his friends, desperate to stop him from harming himself further, and the relief in Armin’s expression as Jude finally tells Willem his story. 

The choice to keep the cast small causes a heavy weight to be put on Elliot Cowan’s shoulders, as he is tasked with portraying three different, truly heinous characters. Even without the costume changes, however, I truly believe it would be possible to tell which of the three he was in each scene.

Cowan gives truly fantastic portrayals of each of the villains of Jude’s life, as Brother Luke he shows the softer touch which allowed for him to manipulate Jude in his innocence, he never handles Norton roughly when playing the part of Brother Luke. Carefully pulling him along, coaxing Jude to trust him to the point that the child does not realise just how wrong it is what Brother Luke asks of him. 

This acting from Cowan makes Jude’s words all the more heartbreaking in Act 2 when talking to Willem, as the audience is able to see why Jude insists that Brother Luke was different, that he did love him.

When taking up the role of Caleb, however, he becomes the manifestation of everything Jude believes about himself. He has none of Brother Luke’s gentleness, but all of his intensity and possessiveness. The last that we see of Caleb, is when he lifts Jude up by the arm, Norton’s body used to reflect the words he says - “x equals x”. Being with Caleb has brought to life Jude’s darkest thoughts of himself, and Jude views this as proof that no matter what he will always be the same. Damaged and unlovable, to be blamed for everything he had been subjected to in his youth.

As Dr Traylor, Cowan’s words are clipped and straightforward. He is the most detached of Jude’s abusers, not caring for his name and only referring to him as “a prostitute” and reinforcing what Jude already believes about himself. It is not until Jude’s “release” that we see any true kind of emotion from Dr Traylor. Cowan shows Dr Traylor with a manic kind of joy upon forcing Jude to run from him, all the while on the tail in his car. The chase scene is long, and dramatic with the incredible musicians rising in volume and intensity with their instruments. The length of the scene forces thoughts back to Jude’s earlier response when JB asked about his legs - “I used to run cross country”.

In all of his roles, Cowan has the same commanding presence onstage as Armin. The moment he leaves the wings, regardless of who he is in that moment, the audience’s attention is drawn to him. As though by sheer glares and willpower we will be able to change Jude’s story, that we as mere observers will be able to push against Cowan’s slow, purposeful steps and keep him away from Norton. 

Zubin Varla and Emilio Doorgasingh gave masterful portrayals as Harold and Andy, respectively. They are markedly different to the presence of Willem, Malcom and JB - in what proves to be a very physical play, Harold rarely touches his son, while Andy only does so as necessary in his medical examinations of Jude.

This respect for Jude’s boundaries when it comes to physical contact is what truly sets Harold and Andy apart from the other older figures in Jude’s life (those villains played by Cowan). Varla’s portrayal of Harold is always evaluating his own movements, always second guessing himself before moving towards Jude - he does not seek out the easy, casual contact shown by the other three young adults. But when Jude comes to him for comfort, Harold is always eager to provide it.

The final scene of Harold and Jude embracing - Jude in his wheelchair, Harold knelt on the ground in front of him, with the rejected trays of food scattered on the floor around him - when Norton practically falls into Varla’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder, as a screen slowly comes down to hide them, JB on the outside, is one that I believe will stay with me for years to come. 

There is an emotion in Varla’s voice when he confides in the audience the story of Jacob, his first son. And in that closing scene we are forced back to that monologue, when he confesses to anyone listening that when Jacob died, there was a little part of him relieved, as that meant it was over. And although it is heartbreaking, it is this statement that makes it no real surprise that when the screen lifts again, Harold is alone in front of that wheelchair to report Jude’s suicide.

Where Armin’s Ana shows the sympathetic side of the audience, the aching desire to hug Jude and promise him it will be okay, to protect him both from the world and himself, Doorgasingh’s Andy exhibits the rougher side of it. His frustration at Jude’s abject refusal to accept help, his anger at watching someone he loves destroy themselves. The hopelessness he feels when his advice goes unnoticed, and his frequent calls to Harold and Willem - often screaming at the two people Jude is closest to, desperate for them to be there for him more.

Andy does not have the same stage presence as many of the other characters do, instead he - and the same can be said for Malcom - almost fades into the background at times. But they are there, ready to pick up the pieces. Both Doorgasingh and Wyatt are spectacular in their characterisations. In the novel, Andy and Malcom show an awareness that they are not the most important people to Jude, that they cannot help him in the ways others can, and in this adaptation, the actors bring that feeling to life.

They are there, working in their own lives, on their own projects. Malcom quietly sees what Jude refuses to acknowledge about his worsening condition and accommodating for it even despite the push back of his best friend. And Andy who can be seen pacing at the side of the stage, calling Jude when he can sense everything is getting too much for him - they are both there for him in their own quiet ways, and their loyalty and love for Jude is never questioned by the audience. It is also important to note that in this adaptation of the novel, neither of these characters address the audience directly - the only two whose focuses are solely within the story with no fourth-wall breaks.

Omari Douglas as JB, on the other hand, stands out more than anyone. First as a result of his costumes - often more brighter than those of his castmates - and then just as how he presents himself. Anyone who watched his performance in It’s a Sin will recall how Douglas’ presence demands to be noticed, and this is carried forth onto the Harold Pinter Stage. He captures the heart of JB’s character - desperate to be heard, to be needed by his friends. Charming in his own way, despite how his messy character causes him to betray his friends at several points in the story. 

Douglas transitions well from how JB is around his friends - brash, loud, confident - to how he truly feels when talking to the audience. His voice is softer, he somehow seems a little smaller as he talks about watching Jude, how he feels Willem doesn’t value his friendship as highly as the others, how he feels they don’t need him anymore.

While JB’s drug addiction is rather rushed in this adaptation - it’s discussed at length in the novel - Douglas eloquently displays his anguish to the audience, his desperation to quit. A previously difficult to like character, after having seen him mock Jude’s disability, and betray his trust, the audience is able to empathise and understand him better. And when it is just him and Jude left at the end of the show, Douglas doesn’t say anything, but takes up the same space as had previously been filled by Willem and Malcom. He quietly watches Jude - just as he had before with his painting, only this time, it’s out of concern for his friend, rather than concern for his career and viewing him as a muse.

I have already mentioned how this production brought me to tears on several occasions, however none made me sob more so than Luke Thompson’s monologue at the end before his car crash. Having already read the book several times, I had known that this was coming and yet it didn’t stop me from hoping that somehow I’d misunderstood the plot point and that Willem did actually survive. So when Thompson took centre-stage and I knew what was next, my sister took my hand as the two of us prepared ourselves.

Beyond the tear-jerker of a monologue, when I later considered the adaptation as a whole I wondered over the choice to mention Hemming at that point. Perhaps this mention worked some some of the audience, however for me I felt it should have been mentioned earlier, as it is in the novel. With Willem only mentioning Hemming before he dies and only in reference to Jude, it caused me to reflect somewhat poorly on their relationship. It’s a minor point about the adaptation, however I do wonder if mentioning his older brother earlier, before Jude himself begins to use a wheelchair, it would have been more impactful.

I could sing praises about the chemistry between Norton and Thompson onstage - however considering I have the voice of a dying seal, it’s probably best that I don’t. Instead, I’ll simply say that their interactions in the second act, as Willem confesses his attraction to Jude, and he struggles to understand it caused my heart to skip a beat. 

Norton captures Jude’s innocence throughout the play perfectly - from the moments that he slips into his childhood self in flashbacks, to when he’s so unsure in his relationship with Willem, unused to being with someone who does genuinely love and care for him. 

All in all, I enjoyed this stage adaptation of A Little Life - if “enjoy” can be the correct word for a production that brought me to tears and caused me to question the meaning of life. It was hauntingly beautiful, heartbreakingly sad and utterly harrowing. I don’t believe I’ve ever been quite so moved by a whole troupe of actors and the way that they characterise their roles. While I certainly have some criticisms and hang-ups about this show and the story in general, I shall save those for another post, hopefully less long and wordy.

Would I return to the Harold Pinter Theatre to watch it again given the choice? Truthfully, I’m not sure. While I fell in love with these actors, the direction, set design and music, I’m unsure if I could watch it again and feel the same level of intensity as I did on this watch. Also, I cried enough to give myself a headache by the end - so if I were to watch again, I’d have to remember to bring a water bottle to ensure I stayed hydrated.

[iamacolor]

Rewatching alchemy of souls is so funny because I was too stressed to realize that Jang Uk is THE schemer. He and naksu are so perfect for each other. Truly unparalleled character writing and acting, he really spent his whole life building up a persona that was weak and cowardly and now he can get away with anything. He repeatedly gets out of tough spots because everyone thinks so poorly of him as if he isn’t taking days to master skills and spells that took his peers decades. He spent most of his life building up the book knowledge so that when he gained the magical capability he could apply it. He’s scheming all the time and I love it

haha very good point anon!! although I'd argue that in the world/society he is living in, he was automatically weak because his gate of energy was closed so no matter what he could have done he wouldn't have seemed strong (and he had no idea himself about how quick he could pick up magic spells once his gate opened) but you can also tell that he used that image to his advantage a looot especially since he was seen as someone who never really finishes anything (he had a lot of masters that he quit but he still kept on trying with all of them which is actually real dedication) no one expected him to actually be super serious about finding a master and to scheme his way into accessing his powers - tbh mudeok also added to his motivation lol. and even when he masters things really quickly people think it's all thanks to a master and not really to his own determination. but the way as soon as he met THE most dangerous assassin he knew of, someone performing the exact kind of magic that is forbidden, he was like oh yes perfect master for me because we can both get something out of this, perfect??? he evaluated the situation really quickly and got the best out of it and dared to negotiate with naksu and to lie to everyone about not just giving a job to the enemy n°1 all so he could access his powers but also getting her into his house and into songrim. and even once he sacrifies his hard-earned powers he still deflects the attention from himself onto the crown prince and doesn't tell anyone about having the ice stone. him and mudeok are such a perfect pairing, people thought he was just a reckless young guy with no real focus and kind of childish and people thought she was just this very outspoken weak maid and all this time they're thinking outside the box often ahead of everyone else (and I think the fact that he's so quick at scheming and getting easily out of tensed situations is because he was always kind of an outcast but also someone that no one really expected anything from so more free to make up his own rules and goals) so it's even better that out of all of them he's the one with the king star energy and the ice stone and I'm really curious how people will react to him and act towards him now he basically resurected

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

A seal-skin around my shoulders (part 5)

Elendil x Selkie!reader

This part is dedicated to @labhandar 😌

*****

When you wake up, the morning after, you remain for a few minutes unmoving, staring at the ceiling of the room, bathed in the morning sun as the by now familiar sounds of the city caress your ear: the birds singing to their heart's content, the susurration of the Sea, the vendors shouting to invite clients in, the solitary bark of a dog, a wagon's wheels slowly advancing on the cobblestone. It is an heterogeneous song, some melodies more pleasant than others, but that nonetheless you have grown used to, just like you have grown used to life on land, even though you never expected that state of affairs was destined to become permanent...

Part of you still cannot believe it; still cannot come to terms with it. Your seal-skin has been destroyed, devoured by fire because of the frustrated decision of a pair of thieves who should not have had it in the first place, and the Sea, your very home, where you were born and where you expected to die, has been taken for you, forever...

It is terrible. Unfair. Terryfing. But it has happened, and because of this, you realize with a sigh as you slowly raise from the bed to reach the water basin in a corner of the room, you have no choice but accept it... and find a way to carry on.

When you reach him in the kitchen, Elendil is sitting next to the open window; the breeze gently caresses his dark locks while his pensive blue eyes seem lost in a more profound world that the one he can see beyond the windowsill.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." he greets you, smiling softly and with that sort of compassion and understanding you could not accept from many people "You must be famished, you ate nothing last night. How... how do you feel?"

You avoid the question, confessing you could not eat anything even if you tried, but you begin making tea, if only to keep yourself busy and have something different from your anguish to focus on. Elendil looks at you, openly but silently, and while you turn your back at him, it is almost as if for the first time you could perceive his thoughts, and his feelings, just like he has shown he can understand yours.

"I will never thank you enough for all that you have done for me." you start in the end as you sit in front of him, placing the small tray with the two cups on it on the table. There is peace between the two of you; there is peace in your heart as well, thanks to his solemn and steadfast presence, even though an hurricane has erupted inside you "No, please, let me; I know you were happy to do it, and that you would have done the same for anyone who needed it. But I am truly, deeply grateful; I met you on the worst day of my life, but the Great Father must have watched over me, since he had my path cross yours. I do not know what would have become of me, had I not met you. I will forever remember your kindness and generosity, but... but now it is time for me to go."

He looks at you, his strong hands gently holding the cup; he does not seem surprised by your declaration, but suddenly he is tense, as if he had perceived a danger... or has to force back words and feelings he deems himself unworthy to express.

"Where will you go?" he simply asks, and you have to admit you do not know: you have no friends among Land-people beside him, no home you could call your own, but you are young and strong, and determined to make a new life for yourself now that your old one is precluded to you. Númenor is a vast kingdom, and you plan on exploring it for a while, just like you once intended to visit the farthest parts of the Sea, and discovering new places, and meeting new people, will perhaps be of some comfort to you, as exploring the city has been in the first weeks of your permanence on land. You will travel for a while, without a destination, simply putting a foot in front of the other until your legs can carry you... And then, once you are too tired to walk, maybe you will find a place to settle, or simply to rest for a while... a place where you will not hear the song of the Sea anymore, and your heart will perhaps begin to heal.

"I... I might leave today; after all, I do not have much to pack, and the day is clear and warm. Unless, of course... you have anything agaist this."

Silence falls on the room, a silence that for the first time since you met Elendil you feel ill at ease in, troubled and in some way uncomfortable... a silence made of words unsaid, not of the peace of mind and heart.

"Elendil." you whisper, looking at the man sitting in front of you; you wish you could take his hand, but suddenly the maybe two feet separating you feel as long as miles "Is something wrong?"

His answer is late in coming, maybe because your friend does not know what to say, or maybe how, or perhaps the reason he feels conflicted is another, more delicate and personal than the simple choice of words...

"There is nothing wrong, truly." he admits in the end; he starts sipping his tea, and the taste makes him smile; he has told you more than once that even though you are still a neophyte you are an excellent tea-brewer, so much that the drink you prepare has for some reason a better flavour and taste than usual. It had to be the oddest compliment you had ever received, but it made you happy nonetheless "I think travelling would be the best antidote to sadness and solitude; I can give you a good map to orientate yourself, and write to my friends in other cities asking them to host you."

"You do not have to..."

"I know I do not have to. But I want to; is it so surprising?"

It is not, and that is the reason why the simple thought fills you with shame; you owe him so much, a debt you have no way to repay, now or in the future, and you must be the most selfish person alive, because you should at least leave as soon as you can since you have doubtlessly overstayed your welcome, and you will, you have both ordered and promised yourself, you will depart today and let Elendil return to his life, but deep in your heart it is the exact opposite that you wish, the unavowable, almost shameful desire that is burning in your heart, it has perhaps from the very first days after you met, and that just now that you have no other choice, that your return home has been made impossible, you feel able to acknowledge.

Let me stay here. With you. I know it is not fair, that I am nothing but a burden to you and I would still be even if I found a job to contribute to your expenses but... I do not know what will become of me if I leave, and not just because I would have no food or home; the simple idea of never seeing you again fills me with dread. I have never felt like this before, and I never thought I would feel it for a Land-Man, but I do, and I know I could not have been more blessed...

"(name)?"

"I am sorry. No, of course it is not surprising. I should know you must be the most generous and selfless man of this island." you admit, and it is then that something unexpected appears in Elendil's expression... something melanchonic, and wistful, and just a little bit hopeful.

"You should not say that. I am not selfless at all."

"Everything I know about you suggest the opposite." you point out, and Elendil laughs, only for a second, before turning serious; by this point you have both forgotten your tea, cooling in your cups. You look as your friend stands and steps away from the table, and from you, as if he could not bear to face you.

"I am ashamed of myself." he confesses in the end "Ashamed of my feelings. I am so sorry for what had happened to you, I would give half of my blood if it meant returning your seal-skin to you, and you to the Sea; you must believe me. But at the same time... The most egotistical part of me cannot help feeling glad of it. Relieved, even."

Elendil utters those words as if he were confessing the most heinous crime, relieved at sharing his secret and at the same time knowing he cannot hope for forgiveness.

You are still looking at him, your hands shaking, torn between compassion for this gentle, honourable man, and the euphoria at discovering his heart beats in time with yours.

Maybe. After all, how can you discern his feelings, given that you have just become aware of yours? It would be awkward, embarassing, maybe even shameful, to express your affection and discover it is not reciprocated...

Except that it would not, not for you, not with him, not after what you have lived through together, and is too special and precious and real to be demeaned by spite. So it is with hope, and understanding, and trust, that in the end you stand and follow Elendil's steps to reach him, rest your hand on his shoulder to make him turn and

"Elendil, please." you whisper "Tell me the truth."

And he does, confessing those feelings he cannot help being ashamed of, and his secret hope, which he would never dare expressing for fear of being misunderstood, as if you could really think he were offering hospitality and support in exchange for your companionship, especially now that you had to find a way to survive on land for the rest of your life and your future look so uncertain.

"I could not bear to have you think I intended to take advantage of you, or that I had planned since the beginning to... No. I understand you have much more pressing matters on your mind, you have just lost your home, the last thing you would want to think about is..."

"Elendil."

"Do you not know I should be the one to be embarassed?" you point out "I have been a burden ever since you met me."

You smile, but your eyes are filled with years, and you think that maybe, just maybe, you have gained as much as you have lost.

If not more.

"That is not..."

"It is. You have fed me, you have clothed me, you have sacrificed your time to help me find what I had lost, you have even spent coin to entertain me; I will never be able to repay everything you have done for me. Do you understand this is why I have to leave? That even though losing you would break my heart, I cannot bear to be even more in your debt than I already am? I know you would never demand for anything... intimate in return; but you would not need to, because you would only have to ask."

You never thought you would have the courage, and at the same time the strength to overcome the shame, to utter those words, but now that you have, that you have stated the truth in front of the man you know can receive it and treat it with respect, you feel... better, lighter, not as if you had taken a huge weight off your shoulders, but as if you had just discovered that weight never existed in the first place. You have said farewell to everything you knew and loved, and that is a loss you will mourn for the rest of your life, but at the same time...

At the same time you feel as if the Great Father took something from you to help you appreciate what he also gave. It is cruel, doubtlessly, but Gods often are, and you strongly suspect you may end up thanking Him all the same, very soon.

You rest the palm of your hand against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin, the softness of his short beard, and that simple, chaste contact feels more intimate than anything you have ever done. Elendil's blue eyes close for a moment, as if he were overcome with emotion, or he were savoring that moment, excluding everything else.

A moment later his hand has taken yours, and his lips are pressed against the back, reverent, almost worshipful. "I do not deserve any of this, (name)." he says softly "And I do not want you to commit yourself unless you are really sure. You will always have a place here, but I could not bear it if you... if you changed your mind..."

"Yes, you do. I am no prize to be conquered, but if I were no one would deserve it more than you." you reassure him "And I will not change my mind; I may have hoped to return to the Sea until yesterday, but what I feel has started growing in my heart way before that. I... I would be very happy if you let me stay here. Live here. With you. Not because you feel pity for my situation, or because I have nowhere else to go, but because we both want it."

Elendil does not answer - not for a while, at least, and that silence lasts enough to make you doubt his feelings, or at least his intentions; maybe it was presumptuous of you to ask him to host you in his home for the rest of your days, that arrangement could work while it was meant to be temporary, but Elendil is clearly an independent man, as well as a busy one, he probably cannot wait to have his house empty of uninvited guests. Maybe it would be better for you to find another place to stay, and a way to support yourself, and the two of you could court as any couple would, discovering if you can really share your time when you are not forced to...

It would be good. Safe. Wise, probably, and the words are almost blossoming on your lips, but then finally Elendil's lips open in a smile, relieved and hopeful and delighted, and all your fears and doubts melt like snow at the first song of spring.

"Because I do. I want it, I mean. I want to stay here with you." you conclude, perhaps unnecessarily, but you feel the need to say it, to express your feelings truly and fully, not because otherwise he could doubt their sincerity, but because it is liberating, exhilarating, to open your heart knowing it will be well-received "These last weeks... the pain and the fear I felt prevented me from realizing how fortunate I was, and how my feelings had gone beyond simple gratitude and friendship. I know I have absolutely nothing to offer, but... I can find an occupation, help you with the expenses..."

"There is no need. This is not an inn, I do not want you to feel you have to pay to stay here."

"I know, but if you were in my place, would you not want to contribute?" you point out, and he admits he would feel guilty otherwise "Let me help you; if we are to be... more than friends, we should both support each other."

Elendil smiles; his strong arms circle your waist, pressing your body against his, and the sensation of his heart is sweet against your body, because you feel it beating in unison with yours.

"Do Selkie know of... marriage? Is it something that exist in your culture?"

"What is that?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"It is... when two people promise to love and support each other as long as they live; they usually then make a home together, have children... and remain faithful to each other."

"We do have that as well; after at least a year of courtship, two or three Selkie can decide to bond themselves to each other and create a new household, sharing their blood in a ritual and then residing together in a cave."

"Are you...?"

"Of course not." you quickly answer "I have been alone for years, and I have never been bonded."

"That is well." Elendil says; he is still holding you, but his hands have started moving on your skin "Otherwise I would have had to fight your lovers for the honour of courting you."

It is pleasant to be held against his body, firm and strong, the vaguely pungent smell of the Sea caressing your face; you feel peace, and at the same time an excitation you have never felt before.

"Let me be with you." you ask "I promise I will never leave."

Elendil does not answer; he cannot, because a moment later he is kissing you, holding you as if he never wants to let you go, and fortunately kissing is one of those things Land-people and Selkie do similarly, because at least in that the difference of race is not an hidrance, and kissing Elendil is so delicious, sweet and sensual, and it makes you so indescribably happy, that you could keep doing it for the rest of your days... as well as many other things.

You feel him shiver as you take advantage of the proximity to caress his shoulders, his back, his hair; your tongue finds him in the warmth of his mouth, and Elendil moans.

"Never." he whispers in the end, his voice fluttering an inch away from your ears, as delicate as the wings of a butterfly; he is still holding you, passionate and devout, and when your gazes meet you see earnestness in his blue eyes, as well as the unavowable fear to see you abandon him for something better. "Never leave me, (name). I... I could not bear it."

"I will be with you forever, Elendil. I promise."

*****

The main difficulty you and Elendil have to face after deciding you will remain living with him, concerns Numenor's society and its opinion on your relationship. Traditionally, your lover -this is what he is now, officially; you like that, very much, and you feel thrilled every time you can refer to him as such- tells you one night you are spending huddled on a blanket at home with parchment and quill, you laboriously copying the letters he has drawn in calligraphy and him happily rewarding you with a kiss every time you complete a line, couples are expected to marry before living together, mainly because it would be immoral if they shared a bed.

"Why? What is so wrong with that?"

"Well... people are expected to remain chaste until marriage, especially women."

You shrug; you are usually fascinated by how your culture and that of the Land-people differ, the sometimes contrasting ways the two look at the world in, but after all why should people dictate how you and Elendil live your life, and your feelings?

"I guess we cannot keep telling people I am a distant cousin who came to stay with you after the death of her parents." you sigh, and your lover laughs; he gently takes the quill from your fingers and corrects a couple of letters you have miswritten.

"I am afraid not; I doubt we have fooled many people until now, since apparently men do not look at their cousins the way I look at you. I do not care much, but I am afraid gossip could hurt you."

"Slanderers do not scare me." you assure him; you turn your face to him, offering Elendil your mouth to kiss, which he happily and eagerly does "I only need you by my side. The rest of the world has no voice."

Fortunately, a few disapproving looks from the older women of the neighborhood are all you have to face, and you happily ignore them as you walk leaning on Elendil's arm among the city's busy's streets, or you wait for him at the harbour in the evening so that you can return home together after he is done with his duties, or even when you are the couple taking advantage of the vicinity as they dance to share a kiss or two...

You are determined to honour your promise to help your lover with the expenses, but the search for a job is more difficult than expected, since you have no experience or qualifications, not to mention references from previous employers. Elendil urges you not to lose hope, because finding employement is not always easy, even in a great and wealthy city like Armenelos, and he can support both of you without any problems. But you are determined not to be a burden anymore, especially given his generosity, and in the end you succeed, and you are hired as an assistant to the palace's stablemaster, which means you are responsible to keep the stables clean, feed and curry the horses, and perform other small tasks to keep them ready when soldiers or courtiers need them. The work is heavy and keeps you occupied for most of the day, but it is relatively easy once you get used to it, you enjoy spending time with the horses and they appear to take a liking to you as well, since they docilely let you brush their coat and clean their hooves. The pay is reasonably good, Elendil assures you since you still have not quite grasped the value of coin, but he is even happier since the stable master is a man he knows and trusts not to harass you, and that the stables are close enough to home that you can return safely before night falls.

Your lover insists you keep some of the coin for yourself, since he is not your master nor your father, but there is so little you could want to buy, since Selkie have little use for material possessions: you have three different dresses and a pair of shoes, a comb and a mirror -this last one that once belonged to Elendil's late mother; he insisted to gift it to you, and you hugged him tight, aware of the importance of that present- to make yourself presentable in the morning, and a blanket to use when the nights grow cold, even though you like it more when you have your lover's body and tight embrace to keep you warm. You have him, you are more and more sure of it every passing day, and you are more grateful for that than you could express in words; as long as you have Elendil, you will never want for more.

Becoming accustomed to living permanently in the city, as a Land-person, is relatively easy... most of the time. Your seal-skin is lost forever, which means that you will never return to the Sea and see your friends and family again, and the sooner you accept it and learn to move forward, the sooner you will find some kind of serenity and start actually enjoy your new life. You have much to be grateful for and you know it; you have even started making friends among the people you work with or that Elendil introduced you to. You should be happy; you are happy, and excited to discover this new world that has been precluded to your people ever since the beginning of time, together with the man your heart beats for, and who you feel more attached to by the day.

But.

But there are moments in which the longing, the loss and the solitude are so intense and encompassing you struggle to breathe, and you feel sure you will never feel happy again. Who cares if you have a place to stay and even a job? What does it matter if you feel more and more at home in Númenor every passing day, and that you are learning to read and write, and even to cook, thanks to the help of the ladies who live in the neighborhood? You will never return home, never again, and your grandmother, your friends, every single person you knew and loved, is lost forever; you had done nothing wrong, but the Great Father has deemed just to ruin your life and leave you to the mercy of Fate. Why? Why me? I did nothing to deserve this! I had dreams, I had plans; and now everything I knew is lost. Is there a reason for this, a moral I will one day understand? Or was it simply because no one is watching over me, and things happen without a reason?

There are days in which the loss of your home is nothing more than a distant pain, like a battle wound that a warrior still feels years later but that causes him no more than a vague soreness once in a while, and your heart bursts with happiness at the freedom you can now enjoy, the days you spend leisurely between your duties at the stables, whatever events or activity you can find in the city, and the treasure of Elendil's company. In those days -weeks, even- you would swear on your life you have received the greatest of gifts from the Great Father, and that while you will never forget your people under the Sea, you have everything you need to be happy on land, and then some.

And then there are days -hours, sometimes; but the shorter the amount of time, the bitterer the wounds in your heart- in which the simple smell of the Sea that reaches you when you open your window in the morning is enough to make you weep, and the thought that you will never see your grandmother and your friends again is so terrible, so catastrophic and destructive, you barely have the strength to rise from your bed. What does it matter if the stablemaster praises you for your hard work and the horses lick your hands when you offer them an apple or scratch them behind the ears? What does it matter if the ladies living in the same street as you have taught you to make bread, and at the end your arms hurt and you have flour on your face, but the taste is sweet and warm on your tongue, and you feel so proud of that little accomplishment? What does it matter if you can now read well enough to visit the city's library, and a whole world of knowledge has opened in front of you?

Even though you walk on two legs, you are not a Land-person: you are a Selkie, always and forever, and that is not your place, that is not your home; you may have fun, behaving as if you were on vacation, but the truth remains that you will never return home, never seen your loved ones again, and that you are prisoner in a world that would probably hunt you down, cage you or have you killed if its people knew the truth about your origins.

You have Elendil, yes. You know that if you remain together you will never feel alone again in your life, and that you might meet every single male of his race, and no one else would ever be like him, nor someone you would care for with the same intensity; he is a gift and a miracle that can make you smile even in your darkest moments. But sometimes -the thought fills you with shame, and you would never dare to confess it to him, but you cannot lie to your heart- you wonder whether the feelings you share will be enough to keep the regret at bay... or what you would do if you were magically given the opportunity to choose.

But wondering about what could be or could have been is meaningless, you reflect one day - or rather, one night. You are in Elendil's bed, awake despite the late hour, and you are observing him, asleep on his back with an hand resting on his belly and the other still close to yours; it is a view you are at this point familiar with, but that does not cease to fill you with wonder and affection, as if it were a miracle taking place again and again every night. He is here next to you, and you are here next to him, and you have him and he has you; this is the truth, a truth that is too precious to be forgotten or unappreciated. You are together; everything else is meaningless.

You rest your cheek on Elendil's naked chest and let his tranquil heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Tagging as usual @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

[freedthedark]

@levinmancer approached: “ It’s my fault. “ He lay there upon the ground, his body riddled with wounds and his chest heaving as he coughed up bits of blood. “ It’s my fault this happened. ” He reached out, his hand weakly grabbing hold of Freed’s wrist. “ I’m sorry… I failed you all… ”

     "Stop talking!" The order was assertive though spoken with a strain in his deep voice as his eyes darted across Deiru's body. No mind was paid to the grip on his wrist, one that would bear no strength to restrain his movement would he opt to pull away. But this strength was going to be restored. It had to be. "Save your breath, you are going to need it." And these won't be your last.

     Freed felt as panic desired to claw on him, rising further in his chest with every second that passed by, every single so valuable second. There was no way he would allow the panic to get to him and influence him; he needed a clear mind and accurate actions more than any other time.

     His gaze snapped back to the fleeing opponents with a blaze of diabolic ire storming in his eyes, abundantly clear. As much as he longed to unleash hell on these bastards and lay the deserved punishment on them, there was no time for him to do so. Not right now. The very scene before him was far too drastic for such measures. The faces of his targets had already been burnt into his mind not to be forgotten until they would have paid their debts. They could only hope that they would run into one of the Jutsu Shiki traps he had written around the area prior to the battle. It would be the more merciful end of their career to be knocked out and picked up by the Rune Knights because every single idea of penalty that was manifesting in Freed's mind at this very moment would exceed all of their expectations of what kind of face the devil truly had.

     And he'd turn his head back to Deiru with a hiss. He was where all his focus had to be.

     "Follow my instructions, I know you can do so." He didn't. It was difficult to say how many of his words Deiru was truly able to process in his condition and Freed had to rip his thoughts away from the worst outcome. He had seen many people die right before his eyes, he had been the very cause for death so often, but there was no way in heaven and hell that he was going to permit his dear friend to give up. He was determined to drag him back to safety, his wounds could be tended to. The Raijinshuu's captain had dedicated his life to protecting the guild, protecting every single person he cared about and he was not going to fail here.

     Failure was no option. Failure had never been an option. Not for Deiru, not for himself.

                Oh Freed was so fearful of failure. So fearful of losing people that he truly cared about because all they had ever shown towards him was acceptance and warmth.

     He wouldn't be able to bear it; to bear the very thought of losing Deiru to his injuries because there had been an error in calculations. How could he have allowed himself to make such a mistake? Had he not been thorough enough? If that was the case, Freed couldn't possibly forgive himself. His friend wasn't at fault; the turn of events had caught them both off guard.

     His eyes ran over the several injuries as his fingers began to undo the cravat around his neck in a swift motion before he pressed it to the gaping wound on his friend's torso which was by far the biggest from all. So many… He fought to keep his hands steady which proved itself difficult due to the swirl of emotion but he wasn't going to allow them control.

     Cautiously he guided Deiru's hands to the piece of fabric. "Keep this pressed to your body. I am aware that it is difficult." With how little strength there was left in Deiru's grip. Quick patterns were drawn above his friend's shaking body; runes that would provide warmth to keep his body from succumbing to the cold too quickly, before he affected his own body and shimmering runic wings were called into existence.

     With all the caution he thought was necessary, Freed lifted Deiru up into his arms and raised back to his knees, making sure that his hold was safe and as convenient as humanly possible. I know you are in pain. I know you are fighting. Keep on, I know you have fight left in you.

     "Take slow breaths. I am going to take you home. You did very well," he spoke looking down at Deiru's distorted face. The sight of his wounds, the sight of crimson spilled everywhere and his distorted features had Freed grit his teeth in distress he'd attempt to conceal for Deiru's sake as he began to soar up into the air with his friend in his arms, chasing the winds.

     "You haven't failed anybody."

                            And you are going to be fine, do you hear me?

[scribl1ta]

I am interested: why do you like Emperor Hadrian so much and when did you start liking him?

Thank you so much for asking! It's not something I've thought about a lot, but here's what I came up with today:

I really became curious about him seeing his influences on Roman art, which i was referencing and researching a lot a few years ago. I was reading a lot about Hadrian through his relationship with Antinous, which led me to learn a lot more about him as an individual. I felt like we had things in common during this time in my life, when I was around 14 years old. I liked art and books, I wrote a lot, and I had just read Plato's Symposium and became obsessed with classical Athens. I also think coming into my lgbt identity was related to it in some way but that isn't something I've explained to anybody before, and not really something I can verbalize right now :/ there was just a connection that made sense to me.

The first thing I think of these days is that Hadrian's inner life is truly mesmerizing to me. Because he enjoyed writing, he seems like an expressive, creative person who would offer a thoughtful perspective on his life and circumstances. He was adopted, and there were a few scandals at the beginning of his reign over his legitimacy and relationship to Trajan; then his relationship with his wife is also very complex, and many sources disagree over how they felt about each other (and I think Sabina is a powerful and fascinating figure in her own right); and I still find the love between him and Antinous a really compelling subject, and a good example of how Hadrian challenged Roman traditions and morals. Reading about all of these things humanized him so much in my eyes, and it's impossible not to think about everything we still don't know. I really wish his autobiography had survived (if one existed), but the fact that it doesn't at least gives all of this some mystique😉

In case it needs to be said, I don't agree with any of the Roman emperors politically, but I do think Hadrian had a unique and sympathetic policy focused on securing and culturally enriching the empire's existing territory. I liked that he traveled so much and kind of decentered Rome as the Caput Mundi, which shifted the culture of the time a lot (we can see this very strongly in sculpture from this time period, for example, which show strong Greek influence in both popular fashions and artistic techniques). He promoted learning and the arts, and gave cities including Athens more self-determination. His Philhellenism interests me a lot since although many Romans admired and learned from Greece, Hadrian studied, applied, and accessorized aspects of Greek culture in very different ways from his predecessors, to the point where it became characteristic of his empire and his own identity. His contemporaries made fun of him for this, and I think his use of Greek culture sometimes seems fetishistic, but it also contributed to his liberal attitudes and focus on improving the quality of life for his subjects.

Lastly, I am also very interested in his reception from historians and modern people. Many historians acknowledge that he was an authoritarian and scheming and power-hungry, but that he was also a dedicated student of art and literature, and he wanted to understand the people he ruled. It's not easy to find other historical figures treated with such nuance (in my experience).

I hope that answers your question!! I'm always happy to talk about him and I'm always learning new things, so I appreciate your interest🥰❤️

[gothprentiss]

people keep talking about how avatar had no cultural impact which i think is largely just a result of how media production and consumption are weirdly stratified, so that the fact that most people don't think about avatar regularly somehow outweighs the way that avatar was surely a bellwether for groaningly long cgi-heavy blockbusters, but that's just a side point. the main point is that every time i see that claim i'm like fuck me i may truly be the person who experienced avatar the most.

let me explain.

avatar 1 is the movie i have seen the most in my life. not by choice but because my dad is the dad variant which is moth-to-flame obsessed with the Phenomenon Of Technology and had a lobe of his brain dedicated to wanting to see avatar before the movie was even a twinkle in james cameron's beady eye. so when it came out on dvd in the late spring of 2010, my dad rented it from the library and set about to watch it, with his family.

one relevant fact here is that i grew up without any tv access. cable, network, whatever-- i literally don't know what it is we didn't have. the library dvd rentals were my closest brush with new and ongoing media that wasn't an extremely paltry collection of disney videos and focus on the family style christian children's movies. so whatever we got from the library i was watching, 100%, regardless of how much it sucked or how impenetrable it was. this despite the fact that, second relevant fact here, i'd already seen avatar-- my best friend and i saw it in theaters in 3d and thought it was dope or whatever, we were 13, the bit where everyone's linking up their hair tentacles was kind of weird, the big cat was metal, everyone was roasting it for being a rip off of pocahontas but with big space dinosaurs. in other words, i was ready to be like, apparently, everyone else on this god damn planet who saw it once and was like yeah, sure, whatever, and moved on with their lives.

but i've already told you how this ends, which is not with me getting to be normal.

the central conflict of this already too long story is that my mother's sleep schedule adjusts whenever she's sat down in front of a tv-- something about the blue light sets her on a 30 minute sleep timer. obviously this was a problem for a 2.5 hour movie. over the course of a week we managed to wrangle her sleep timer so that she made it about 45 minutes to an hour, before she'd promptly fall asleep and snore at a decibel level that implied conscious maliciousness.

my dad was undaunted! we rewatched the beginning over and over, i'd say about ten times over two weeks, until finally we just gave up on her and powered through the whole thing.

now, you might be saying, that's not that many times, i've watched my favorite movie well over ten times, maybe you just lack commitment to film, and i am so glad to tell you this story does not end here. my mother was also undaunted! and my dad had hyped up the movie to such an extent-- recall, again, he's a technology dad, and this was also a welcome and blessed break in the middle of a deeply cursed phase where he listened to french electronica and LMFAO for months on end-- that she was just as determined to see it to its close as he'd been.

so we resumed our lurching progress through the movie, again kneecapped by my mother's sleep schedule. my father and i had gotten out of the human colonies on pandora into the cgi marvels of na'vi land, but we were grounded again. i had suggested, back in the aught watchcount, that we could simply make note of where we'd stopped watching and resume there the next night, but my dad's avatar hype train had a weird purism car and he insisted that the True Experience was watching it beginning to end. i considered abandoning ship at this point, but i wasn't allowed to close my door and my parents watch movies at astounding volumes, so it wasn't like i was going to not be experiencing the movie.

this went on for weeks. i believe the library charged $2/day for new movie rentals, and capped their rentals at a week, no doubt in an effort to disincentivize this precise kind of rat brained behavior. but freezing my dad's library account until he returned the dvd wasn't going to have any meaningful impact: there was no space to want other dvds or books during the great avatar consumption. i believe we genuinely had the dvd out for a whole month, and during that time had it on every night that my parents weren't working late. if you remember the post about the kid who could just close their eyes and "play shrek" because they'd seen it so much, there was a period of my middle school life where i could do that with the first half to two thirds of avatar. the bit where sigourney weaver goes "hey marine, catch!" to jake sully is actually embedded in my mind because it was typically when my mother's deviated septum kicked up a fuss.

this isn't a great story, you know, it's just something that happened. i think we genuinely watched avatar, at least the first half, over twenty times, but it never occurred to me to keep count. long-term, somehow this month-long avatar fugue state didn't work as some sort of contemporary variation on the clockwork orange ludovico technique. my dad went back to tecktonik, my mother's sleep schedule regularized, and we finally could use the library again. i'd nearly forgotten about it (the Avatar Effect) until we started getting news stories about the sequels a couple of years ago, which i naturally sent to my dad. it turns out he does not remember his brief and consuming obsession with avatar, and thought i was just a fan of the movie. he is going through life without the weird sensation of being kicked in the brain by every avatar fact he encounters, such as the fact that the giant avatar shaman animatronic at disneyworld is the most expensive animatronic they've ever done and is yet another Feat of Technology, or how na'vi is an actual created language, or how there are FOUR avatar sequels slated, ensuring that the 2020s will be marked by the consistent presence of james cameron's giant blue space kitty movie and ever-evolving heights of discourse. his memory of 2010 is smooth and serene and unmarked by the single greatest film incident of my entire life.

[0613magazine]

031723 Consequence

Jimin of BTS Breaks Down His “Very Intense” New Single “Set Me Free Pt.2”: Exclusive

Stepping into the solo spotlight, Jimin reveals the details of his new single

When asked about the music video for “Set Me Free Pt.2,” Jimin smiles in a way that can only be described as mischievous. The dancer, vocalist, and BTS member is chatting with Consequence over Zoom in a conversation designed specifically around the dynamic pre-release single for his upcoming solo project, FACE, due out March 24th.

Clad in an oversized bomber jacket and trusty bucket hat at HYBE’s office in Seoul, Jimin displays the kind of range in conversation that many think of when watching him perform onstage — he’s playful, cheerful, and talkative; he’s also equally thoughtful and earnest in reflections about his work. “When this song was made, I felt really attached to it,” he recalls. “I went to the US myself for the choir recording, and listening to it right next to them was truly amazing. I remember it as a really good memory.”

This album marks Jimin’s first solo project — like his fellow members of BTS, he has plenty of individual tracks within the band’s sprawling discography, but the release of FACE will see Jimin taking center stage in a different way. He phrases it as “a new starting point.”

When the track list for the album was revealed, many noticed that this pre-release single was designated as “Pt.2” despite the fact that Jimin doesn’t have any existing songs to his name titled “Set Me Free.” He confirms that it’s a nod to a track on bandmate SUGA’s second Agust D mixtape, D-2. “There isn’t a connection, and we weren’t trying to divide part one or part two,” he explains. “But since it turns out my song talks about freedom and moving forward, and SUGA’s song talks about some of the stories that come before, I thought it would be good to come after that.”

Dedicated fans — and anyone who has been lucky enough to see BTS live — recognize Jimin as a one-of-a-kind talent. His background in contemporary dance and ballet shaped him into a hypnotic stage presence. His unique vocals stop people in their tracks. He’s the next member of the band to release solo material, work he didn’t take lightly. “You know, the members felt very nervous before releasing their solo albums, but compared to those feelings, their results were absolutely great,” he shares. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment to my members. I want to be a proud member of BTS.”

“Set Me Free Pt.2” is a song that announces Jimin’s solo arrival in a major way — big horns, the aforementioned choir, assertive lyrics, and a serious beat. As with every other decision around the record, the choice to lead with this single (the album’s closer) was intentional. “This album talks about how I look back on myself and how I overcame… If people understand the emotions I’m trying to express, I’ll consider the album a success,” he says.

Listen to “Set Me Free Pt.2” and read Jimin’s Origins breakdown of the key points behind the track below.

Performance

First, we tried to focus on the performance and express the really intense vibe of the song. The key point was freedom — and actually, we were drinking at the time. This is the last track on the album; the last of the emotions. It’s very intense, so I wanted to announce a “Jimin solo” in an impactful way.

Autonomy

We tried to express the grand scale of the song and [the ideas of] determination, passion, and overcoming. “Set me free” means setting myself free, so I thought it was important that I be the one to set myself free — not someone else. In the end, I’m the one who has to set myself free.

Performances of “ON” by BTS

There is a song called “ON” by BTS. I think you can feel the same vibe watching the “ON” performance as you will watching this performance. You’ll feel that feeling once again.

Light and Dark

I would say the song has the energy of a light in the darkness. I wanted to express that kind of picture everyone has in their head — a ray of light coming into the darkness is the only thing you can see. If I had to say specific colors, I’d say black and white.

Source: Consequence

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

"MAKE THE SERVER BETTER. This is what I need to do."

An Analysis on Ranboo's Philosophy and Vision for the Dream SMP

One of the most consistent traits about Ranboo is his inconsistency, especially in his beliefs and choices, all influenced within the moment.

Now I was thinking back to when Ranboo had that explicit desire for a "happy family" when it became clear to us that he and Dream seem to share similar goals and desires for the server. It's been a few months since that stream, and Ranboo's gone through some changes as a character. Through experimentation, he relearns and rediscovers himself, most of it away from us particles. He now has the experience to choose people more discriminatingly, having a gauge on who still believes and/or benefits from his optimism and those who don't.

With a better grasp on his more persuasive and ambitious self, as well as a slightly stronger spine, I am going to attempt to make sense of what Ranboo's opinions most likely must be by now, having been in the server for half a year now.

1. "You have to think for yourself sometimes."

(from Ranboo’s first conversation with Slimecicle, 06/18/2021)

So you know how Ranboo is an anarchist, or at least identifies as such, at least within the context of the Anarchist Syndicate, right?

One of the most significant things we must pay attention to is Ranboo's anarchist tendencies. Based on his general experiences but particularly his conversation with Slime and his initiation to the Syndicate, Ranboo cares heavily about personal autonomy and the right to self-expression and self-preservation. His aversion to factional sides was initially derived from the existing factions he was exposed to being unfair and demanding of its members, as reflected in his experiences in New L'Manburg.

It's upon further inspection that these sympathies constitute his concerns over People. It's why he fights for and sides with People in general, as a concept and principle.

2. "Why can’t I have friends on opposite sides?!"

(from Ranboo’s Pre-Doomsday speech after the Community House confrontation, 01/05/2021)

Something Ranboo also believes in is the idea that everyone is valuable and capable of many things unique to themselves. Therefore, he recognizes and gives (as much as he could muster) care to Peoples' needs, concerns, and beliefs, most especially when he is demanded of it by whoever asks of him. He values loyalty toward friendships and relationships in their base form, as opposed to causes. (Especially relationships made from and because of causes.)

Another reason why Ranboo despises factional sides, especially the ones he was a part of, is that these sides' own beliefs and principles believe themselves to be above the other and vice versa. Ranboo's ability to recognize two (if not more) sides of an argument leads him to value both sides to such an extent that he believes one is not above the other. To him, People—individuals with inherent value and free will—are more than the causes—whose necessity changes over time and can only be a solution to specific, changing problems—they believe in.

3. "When the leader gets corrupted, then...we'll see what happens."

(from Ranboo's monologue after speaking with Ghostbur on the topic of killing Dream, 03/15/2021)

Something of particular fascination is Ranboo's dislike for leaders as a concept, a belief shared only by Technoblade and the rest of the Anarchist Syndicate. For them, and Ranboo, leaders are at the end of the day People. They are infallible and capable of making wrong choices. The very concept of a leader, too, suggests superiority in the ability and the dependence on only the causes of that leader, chosen or not. To them, no one should be above or below anybody. A leader creates that distinction.

An ideal SMP for Ranboo is one without leaders, where one's choices and manner of living, as dictated by their beliefs, is not above one or the other. In comparison, many characters who have expressed their visions of an ideal Dream SMP all have a leader in them!

We have Dream, who wants a server that fits his specific vision and needs and desires, a server that serves him, with his and only his vision of an ideal SMP—one where he has total control over all of the server. A less extreme version of this is held by the de-facto head of the neutral Badlands, BadBoyHalo.

Characters like Quackity, Schlatt, and Jack Manifold all believe in the concept of adherence and obedience to order and law as means to get something done. It also makes sense why these three also have a history of being quite literally Presidents of countries, whether corrupt like Manburg, discarded like Manifoldland, or ambitious like Las Nevadas.

There are also other leaders like Wilbur, Eret, and Tubbo, who have a partiality to order and leadership. The difference with them is that they believe in relative leeway in priority towards the ruled-over people. They believe in an SMP wherein a leader and their people share a mutual obligation towards each other's benefit and progress. Whether a cause that can help should be involved may be of consideration too, because as far as I know, these three mastered each of the 3 facets of the Greek art of persuasion:

Wilbur, in particular, is a heavy advocator of the use of cause in leadership, hence his use of speech to give rise to emotions, aka pathos.

Tubbo leans towards common sense and reason, having a tendency to use logos.

Eret is partial to a more general sense of righteousness, therefore basing many of his actions on the character of the people around him and having a strong focus on their and their subjects' own ethos.

4. "Who am I?" "I am somebody who stops conflict."

(from page 12 of Ranboo's current memory book)

Despite these differing ideas on what is good for the SMP, the one thing everyone has in common is that they all want a server where peace, to their standard and contentment, is achieved.

For Ranboo, this means no Conflict.

Bear in mind that he admits in his pre-Doomsday speech that Conflict can never be truly eradicated, acknowledging that personal conflicts between individual persons are still bound to happen.

Though, as stated in his various monologues in regards to killing Dream (particularly when he was grieving Tommy and after talking with Ghostbur) the Conflict he desires to get rid of is the big, overarching kind.

These are Conflicts that disrupt the happiness of, if not all, significant numbers of People. Conflicts that perpetuate a cycle of unnecessary violence, conflicts that escalate from the pettiest of disputes, conflicts rooted in a refusal of a person/faction/cause to simply coexist with everyone else.

This is Ranboo's major goal in reference to the whole of the server. This is a major motivation for all of his decisions and actions too.

5. “It should be all of us working together.”

(from page 14 of Ranboo’s first memory book)

When Ranboo explicitly repeated wanting "one big happy family," words that came out of Dream's own mouth, he's describing his vision of an ideal Dream SMP. It can be argued that he and Dream have the same goals, right?

Well, obviously, not quite.

Dream and Ranboo have very different visions for the server, the common thing being their determination to get everyone to cooperate with their vision no matter what. We see the vague and ominous actions of Ranboo while Enderwalking, how much bolder and aggressive he can get. He's seemingly more dedicated to this goal that way.

Based on the previous points, Ranboo's vision of a better Dream SMP is one where everyone exists as they are, freely and without division, where no one is above or below the other, and that they can put their dedications to causes aside for care and love for each other. People regardless of skill or situation just living together peacefully! where the Conflict is not big enough to harm but big enough to constitute what it means to be alive! No one's telling the other how to live because they understand and respect each other's choices and differences!

With how he approaches the fulfillment of this ideal, I dare say he does indeed fight for something, and it's the cause of all causes.

But what about those other people who aren't so compromising? Well, I wager those are the people Ranboo ought to snap against. Ranboo's ideal SMP is rooted in coexistence, therefore it demands compromise and tolerance. Funny just how many people on the server fight for causes that refuse to give that.

Ranboo definitely knows he can't achieve the server he wants alone, and knowing everyone else, he knows getting everyone to get along will be much harder in execution.

[mindofasupernova]

The Inventor Part 2

Kaz Brekker x reader

Description: A killer is on the loose, eliminating Kaz's informants. In a desperate attempt, Kaz meets a certain inventor that has his mind racing, trying to figure out the complex puzzle she is.

Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

Kaz

A corpse? That's what she wanted? Did she think that he just kept all the bodies of his deceased workers in his room? How the hell was he supposed to get his hands on the corpse of one of his poisoned informants?

One day after meeting the young inventor, Kaz had sent Inej to gather answers to the Y/LN Manor. And just as promised, the girl had already identified most of the compounds, but due to "careless and messy manipulation", clearly referring to Kaz's pouch, she had been unable to determine a specific substance that acted as a catalyst. Inej returned to the Slat with Y/N's message asking for a meeting and a request Kaz wasn't exactly expecting.

According to Y/N, it was of the utmost importance for her to examine the body if she hoped to pinpoint the missing compound not to mention it provided a perfect opportunity for Kaz to tell her about how the poison had captured his attention.

Inej had returned later than usual, smiling and carrying a small brown bag that wafted a sweet and delicious scent. When Kaz had raised his eyebrows in question, Inej had told him Y/N had given her some recently baked cookies. He grunted in response and kept working, but his mind kept drifting back to the cookie bag and what that small act meant.

Inej was cautious but he also knew that she always searched for kindness in people. That snack could have been simply just a gift but Kaz wouldn't have made it this far if he considered all people as kind-hearted. Y/N was a stranger, a rich stranger from the highest of ranks of society who probably didn't care if Barrel rats like him lived or not. Y/N hadn't asked for a favor nor did she need money, she just wanted to know, that unsettled Kaz more than he liked to admit.

He had spent the day gathering information about her, her personal life, hobbies, and all the rumors he could find. He had found absolutely nothing that could give him an insight into the girl's intentions, he had finished empty-handed with the information he already knew: she was the only daughter of one of the richest men in Ketterdam, the perfect personification of a wealthy royal daughter, an innocent and pious little thing that went to Church with her family. Kaz scoffed at that, the defying look she gave her at their secret rendezvous accompanied with her enthusiasm for carving a corpse open proved she was far from innocent.

No, until he had more facts he wouldn't let his guard down. And yet, a small part of him yearned for her actions to be good-intentioned. Stop, hope is a dangerous thing. He had already made the mistake of hoping when he was nine and look where it got him.

Kaz returned his gaze to the papers in front of him, huffing in annoyance, he started writing down orders to get a corpse for Y/N.

_______________

Y/N : One day after the meeting

Y/N was quietly sitting at her vanity, a soft smile adorned her face, gaze completely lost on her new device when Inej, soundlessly crept inside her bedroom.

After Kaz Brekker had left the shop near the Church of Barter, she no longer felt the giddy spark she had when she left her manor. She couldn't blame Mr. Zhang for telling Mr. Brekker about their association, he was an old jumpy man who wished no trouble upon no one. She had left all the concoctions that Mr. Zhang had order, but she didn't show him her latest joy, she no longer felt as excited.

This new invention she had come up with consisted of a music box. But it was no ordinary music box, far from it. Y/N had noticed how most of the music boxes got damaged with time when the metal rusted and the music no longer sounded like a melody but more like a haunted house. So, instead of depending on metal to play music, why not use water vapor. Yes, she had spent four days perfecting the pressure at which each piston released the water so it was a perfect copy of one of the melodies in the Komedie Brute. Four days making sure that the amount of heat the flame distributed was enough to transform the water into vapor but not so fast it was gone before the song ended. And now, here it was, a vapor-based music box with a decorative firebird in the center that literally caught fire, warming the water below.

Mind too caught up on the mechanics of her own work, that, when the Wraith materialized from the shadows behind her, Y/N sent a rain of screws and nuts toppling down the floor when Inej's hand landed on her shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Y/N turned around to face the apparition in her room. The Suli girl raised her hands, to show she intended no harm and in a kind voice spoke:

"I'm not here to hurt you. Kaz Brekker sent me to check up on your progress."

With a sigh of relief, Y/N straightened relaxed her posture. "Why, of course, should have assumed Mr. Brekker would send someone. Please, take a seat. " with a small smile, she gestured to a plush burgundy armchair.

"As promised, I have successfully identified most of the compounds. However, I fear identifying the catalyst agent won't be possible unless I conduct a thorough autopsy on the unfortunate victim. The needle I was given was in an atrocious condition, too many foreign compounds had already interacted with it." Y/N answered, finishing with a hopeful tone.

Inej nodded her head and responded, "I'll let Kaz know, thank you Marchioness Y/LN." Inej turned around, making a bee-line for the window.

"You must not be thinking of going out in this beastly weather. Please, stay until this horrendous downpour ceases." Y/N quickly called back, wrapping her silk shawl around her petite frame, as if the thought of stepping outside was enough to send a chill running down her spine.

Inej hesitated, directing a fleeting glance at the crying sky outside, she resumed to her previous seat.

"Would you like a piece of Cinamon-coated Pavlova? I guarantee you won't regret it, the caramelized peaches are sinfully appetizing!" and before the Suli girl could respond, Y/N was rushing out of her room, the dainty patter of her heels clicking down the stairs.

Her room was exactly what Inej had expected: luxurious and overly grand. But there was something about it that Inej couldn't quite place, her room was tidy to the extreme, all the expensive perfume bottles lined up, gaps between that appeared as if they had been measured with a ruler. Nothing in her room showed a preference or indication of what she truly liked, at first sight, the room would have seemed like the perfect fairytale but now, upon close observation, the room looked generic, hollow, and cold. The spy wondered if all the riches were worth living into a life as impersonal as hers.

Y/N returned, carrying a tray full of fancy desserts Inej couldn't even pronounce.

"The baker proclaims himself a master of crème brûlées. I prefer his fruit-stuffed truffles, though. Mouthwatering" Y/N commented, gingerly placing the tray on her small mahogany table.

Y/N waited for Inej to take a bite out of the coffee tiramisu, after the Suli girl let a soft hum of appreciation, Y/N smiled and questioned: "I hope I'm not being too invasive, but how did you manage to climb all the way to my window? There are no nooks where you could have possibly held onto, you must have an incredible balance to perform such a feat."

And that's how Inej told her about her life as an acrobat, proudly sharing brief glimpses to her past, seeing no harm in the girl next to her. Y/N was more than happy when Inej started talking, she was glad the bronzed-skinned girl didn't treat her with timid whispers afraid of offending her royal title. It felt nice to have a normal conversation, being able to share honest opinions instead fake smiles and condescending words at galas, afraid that if the wrong statement slipped they'll become the next party gossip.

____________________

The morning after, Inej returned bearing Mr. Brekker's message agreeing to a nightly meeting where she'll be able to examine the corpse.

Saying that Y/N was thrilled, was an understatement, apart from a chance to put her brain to good use, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try a device she had specifically designed for creating an alibi while she was sneaking outside at unlikely hours.

Y/N hated piano. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't the instrument, it was the music, her music. Because for an unknown reason, her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own whenever she tried to. She admired the focus and dedication of musicians, she really did, but her mind easily got distracted thinking about her latest reading material instead of focusing on the notes. So, she had created a system capable of pushing the tiles as if her own fingers played the music. She knew it was wrong to fool her parents in such a way but it gave her a perfect cover to go in secret missions her parents would never approve of.

Proper ladies don't get excited over knowledge, much less probe in repulsive matters such as corpses. Look at you, Y/N, what would future suitors think if they discover you all cheerful over someone´s murder? The scandal! Zia Francesca's reprimanding voice resonated inside Y/N´s head. But she could care less about what the whole Ketterdam thought about her, science was her passion, and she would abandon it until the day she died.

Already outside, a navy blue scarf wrapped around her head to shield her delicate features against unwanted attention, Y/N waited for Inej at their chosen meeting point.

The sly girl slipped into view, with a grace greater than the one of a feline, leaving the shadows as if she and the night were one. With a brief nod, Y/N followed the girl into the awaiting hands of darkness. Leading her towards the Barrel, a place where monsters lurked behind every corner impatiently waiting to pounce any minute. Nonetheless, Y/N felt ecstatic, warm excitement pulsing through her veins, a river waiting in anticipation to break the thin modest facade she kept up to let her curiosity resurface in search of enigmas to solve.

When they arrived at a place named "The Crow Club", Inej went to get Kaz and some "others" and told her to wait. Y/N observed the lively atmosphere, seeing customers from different countries around the world when her eyes landed on a familiar head with wild red curls.

"Mr. Van Eck?" Y/N questioned in disbelief, the boy perked up at the sound of his last name, locking eyes with the hooded girl.

Never would she have imagined finding Wylan Van Eck down in the Barrel. She was shocked, Wylan supposedly should be in a music school outside of Ketterdam. Both belonging to affluent families, Y/N had met Wylan Van Eck at several parties. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but she liked the quiet boy who shared the same look of misfortune Y/N had every time they were thrown into a classy social event. When his father had announced he was leaving to study abroad, Y/N was happy for him although she would miss being silently miserable together. But it appeared Wylan had been doing something far from studying, now sitting next to a tall Zemeni boy with his arm slung around his shoulder.

"Marchioness Y/N, I never imagined...W-What brings you here?" replied round-eyed Wylan, confusion, and astonishment written all over his features.

But before Y/N could respond, steps and the tapping of a cane interrupted their little meeting, Inej small silhouette trailing behind Mr. Brekker.

"So, you know Wylan?" he interrogated in that characteristic rasp, coffee eyes scrutinizing Y/N's form.

"Yes, Mr. Van Eck used to come to our social gatherings."

Wylan just nodded shyly while his long-limbed companion kept drowning shot like they were water.

Dirtyhands humphed in acknowledgment "Nice, know that we are all together let's go to...Jesper, I don't pay you to drink the bar dry. Get your ass down here and let's get moving so our dear inventor can examine the body, shall we?

"Wait, she is the contact you talked about?" the Zemeni, Jesper, questioned. Eyes going from Kaz Brekker to Y/N, as if this was some kind of joke.

"Wylan called her Marchioness? You asked for a royal's help?" Jesper asked, an incredulous mocking smile on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz?"

Mr. Brekker scowled at him and without another word turned around not even waiting for them to follow.

"Well, nice to meet you, my lady. The name's Jesper Fahey," he said, bowing down and kissing her hand, sending her a mischievous wink.

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fahey. And please, there's no need for formalities, just call me Y/N." she comforted, as they finally reached the others. Glancing at the rest while finishing her last statement, prompting the rest to call her by her first name.

________

Kaz

Y/N radiated waves of elation, her whole face lighting up at the thought of an adventure, a star amid the tumultuous dark waters of Ketterdam helping him find his way to the shore.

Kaz wore an amused expression at Y/N's amused gaze roaming the dirty streets of the Barrel, a new unknown world full of carnage and sins. She isn't fit for the Barrel thought Kaz, her eyes dancing in amusement at every little detail that caught her interest despite her efforts to put on a serious face and regal posture. She probably saw wonderous adventures while Kaz saw the Barrel for what it really was: a ravenous, savage beast waiting to swallow the weakest whole and drain the lives of the ones who survived its ghastly bites. And somehow the concept that she didn't belong in this world, his world, made Kaz's heart wrenched a little.

During their walk, Kaz shared the details about the latest killer on the loose and his dead informants, all the while, Y/N remained quiet, evaluating every one of his words.

When they arrived at an abandoned building, a single man was stationed outside, leaning on the tainted wall with a tired look in his eyes. Kaz nodded at the guard who gave him a set of keys and trotted out of sight. Kaz guided them inside, careful no prying eyes had followed them. Kaz turned on the lights, briefly disconcerting his companions, and pointed to a table with a big bulk covered by a dirty cloth.

"As you requested, the unfortunate victim" announced Kaz as Y/N placed a small suitcase she'd brought with her forensic equipment and tenderly pried the cloth covering the thing that once had been alive.

Y/N didn't bat an eyelash when she saw the corpse's face, not even when Jesper started gagging or when Inej turned around and started quietly mumbling prayers to her saints. Kaz focused on her face, the calm inquisitive look of a scientist, he had expected a gasp at least. Kaz was impressed by her cool analytical demeanor when a simple glimpse of the man was enough to send Kaz back to the ocean, rotting flesh beneath his fingertips. Kaz shuddered at the thought, forcing down the vomit rising in his throat.

"If you need an assistant, Jesper is willing to help" Kaz stated, stabilizing his voice so it wouldn't show his true feelings.

"What?! Me? Umm..no...I...Helping isn't a Jesper talent." Mr. Fahey said, a fearful look in his eyes, face white as a sheet. Kaz hoped he didn't look as terrified as him.

Y/N stopped her scan, looked up at the two boys, and with a small smile spoke: "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."

Quickly discarding her coat and scarf, pushing back the sleeves of her rouge-colored blouse, and pulling long laboratory gloves over her hands along with a white apron over her head, she set up to work.

Kaz stared at her features, as she transformed into an eager forensic, light illuminating her face, falling in the right places giving her an otherwordly glow. Rebellious strands of hair framing her forehead, a pink hue staining her cheeks indicating her joyous state. The sight before him would have put any masterpiece to shame, Kaz wondered how she could stare at a corpse and find glee in such a morbid image. But Kaz liked it, the brilliant gleam her eyes portrayed, her childish joy at the promise of adventure.

The spell was broken when she started pulling out scalpels, syringes, and other items Dirtyhands couldn't bother to learn the name of. Pulling the flesh taught beneath her fingers, Y/N made a Y incision, skin splaying open.

Cold lifeless hands gripped Kaz's throat. his brother's icy whispers brushing his skin. He turned his head away and as if perceiving his discomfort, Y/N's bewitching doe eyes stared back at him.

"You can wait outside if you prefer to, I'll notify you when I'm done." her gentle voice reached and Kaz couldn't have been more grateful.

With a sharp shake of his head, Kaz limped towards the exit, Jesper, and Inej quickly following his movements.

--------

After Y/N finished, she eagerly started explaining her findings, a prideful gleam emanating from her.

"Well, Mr. Brekker I must admit this case is a peculiar one. The simplest ones always prove to be the most challenging."

"Here I thought that after years of fancy tea reunions you'd know the meaning of a vast number of words. I'll be sure to buy you a thesaurus." mocked Kaz, a wolfish smirk creeping onto his face.

The inventor frowned at his comment, racing her chin higher, and started her rant, thoughts racing to prove her point.

"Oh no, Mr. Brekker do not confuse simple and easy. Simple is straightforward, plain facts to the observer. Ordinary details are hard to pinpoint, effortlessly found everywhere, which makes it harder to find unique characteristics that could serve as means of identification since their nature is so elementary." Y/N spoke swiftly, pacing around the room, eyes never faltering from Kaz's.

"And that's exactly what happened in this case. As I had mentioned, my extraction wasn't entirely successful, for an essential reactant was missing. However, it wasn't the only reason why I insisted on examining the body, no, a very simple and ordinary substance appeared when I separated the poison: Helianthus annuus or more commonly known as sunflowers." Y/N paused glancing at their surprised faces, clearly pleased with their reactions, she continued, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found sunflower pollen as the main component of the poisonous agent. I ran several more tests and the result remains the same, our killer is using these lovely flowers as a weapon. Now, back to the catalyst, the easy part of the equation. This component isn't as fastidious as the previous one, why, you may ask. Well, its vast majority consists of average materials but a small percentage of it contains alloys that are only produced in Ketterdam, that combined with the peculiar way they were fused, suggests a Grisha alkemi made this solution." Y/N concluded, grabbing a piece of paper and hastily writing before she handed it to Kaz.

"There are no signs of struggle, meaning either they knew the attacker or they were taken by surprise. A swift prick to the femoral artery, a clear pathway for the poison to reach the bloodstream, infecting the body within seconds."

"It shouldn't be very hard to find the alkemi. They aren't very popular and most of them are indentured. Here is the list of all the reactants, the specifics, and where I believe you might find them. " finished the girl, looking at the trio expectantly.

"If you don't mind, I have taken a sample to examine more carefully at my house. I'll try to find any details I might have overlooked."

Briskly reading the list, Kaz frowned and then pocketed the small scrap of paper. "First thing tomorrow morning, ask around for an alkemi who might have bought these materials. "

Kaz turned to look at his fellow crows, content with their nods of approval, grabbed his cane, and sauntered towards the door. Her chemistry knowledge was astounding, a marvelous domain of anatomy, and an even more gifted engineer from what he had heard. Hers was an indeed beautiful mind, not that he would ever tell her.

"Mr. Brekker?" her light voice shattered through the gloomy night. Kaz craned his neck, gaping back at her in question.

"Is there perhaps a place where I might be able to tidy myself up?" Y/N questioned, Kaz finally looking at her messy red-stained apron and her exposed arms displaying strokes of red all over them.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring the girl back to their home. "You can use the restroom back at the Slat." The girl had risked her reputation sneaking out on ill-advised affairs to help them, it was the least he could do.

"Thank you" Y/N replied as she carefully peeled her apron, attentive at not brushing her arms against her blouse.

___________

Once she had freshened up, Y/N stumbled upon the young Van Eck talking with a couple. The green-eyed girl was about Y/N's age, a generously carved complexion, holding the hand of a tall Fjerdan.

Y/N inclined her head as a form of salute, "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Mr. Van Eck. I never thought you hated music lessons that much to run away." she told him in a joking tone.

"And I never thought you were the type to sneak out at ungodly hours just to play detective. " Wylan replied, a grin beginning to form on his face.

"Well, I suppose everyone has secrets."

"You must be Y/N, Inej told me you were the help Kaz so desperetly needed. I'm Nina, he's Matthias and well you already know Wylan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Inej had briefly mentioned them, she knew now that Nina loved food, maybe next time she'll bring those exquisite truffles she had so eagerly talked about. If there is a next time Y/N reminded herself, she desperately hoped so, but now that her work was done she wasn't so sure Kaz Brekker would ever seek her again.

"Well, you have saved me the introductions." Kaz sarcastically glowered at the green-eyed girl, Nina kept talking as if she hadn't heard him.

It was one thing for Kaz to admire her intelligence, it did not mean he trusted her, though. Pieces were still missing to the intricate puzzle she was and until that changed Kaz did not like the way she rapidly befriended his crows, her intentions were still blurry to Kaz, and even though he would never admit it he cared deeply about their well-being.

"You should stay a little longer, we could go for waffles as a way of thank you." prompted Nina.

"Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I should be returning home." Y/N declined, grinning at Nina, blissful someone had invited her for waffles.

Kaz stared at her and wondered how many times someone had done something similar, not to thank her but rather to use her, so that such a simple gesture put her in a joyful state.

"Scared of what your parents may do if they found out the truth?" Kaz quipped once his crows had left the two of them alone. A teasing tone masking true concern.

"Terrified. Someone may notice I've been playing the same four songs for the last couple of hours, always missing the same notes every time and they might get ideas of checking up on me," she confessed, mischief coating her features.

"Good night, Mr. Brekker. I'm happy I could be of assistance. Please, let me know if you find your killer or if my experience is needed again."

Kaz just bowed, signaling for his Wraith to get Y/N back to her manor in one piece.

Both girls disappeared into the night, leaving Kaz pondering what the hell she had meant with playing the piano.

___________

Y/N

Almost two weeks had passed, no signs of Kaz and no visits from the Wraith, well not that she was aware of. Y/N caught herself glaring at no point in particular, she readjusted her expression and plastered a well-practiced look of keen interest, trying to focus on Lady Stathos' rant about the attractiveness of the Viscount of Chagny.

Y/N politely excused herself, with no intention of making a fool of herself if Lady Stathos posed a question related to her gossip.

Too busy drowning in her own sorrow, knowing that Kaz had probably captured the culprit and was happily celebrating his success and no longer needing Y/N's help, that she stumbled forward, barely catching herself when someone bumped her from behind.

When Y/N turned back around, searching for that someone, she was met with a sight she had only seen once in an abandoned warehouse late at night. One that made her mind scream: Helianthus annuus.

Mercher Dupont's eyes were deranged, veins gruesomely popping and blood spilling from his lips, before toppling in the middle of the dance floor, taking his final breath.

[the-black-birb]

Bet? [Miya Atsumu x Reader]

Summary: Miya Atsumu never losses a bet. Or: At first he was in it for the sex until he found himself honestly falling for you.

Warnings: smut, virginity loss, plenty of plot to go along with it

A/N: since this is my first nsfw piece, I’m writing about times. Haha. Get it? Anyways. Here we go!

Miya Atsumu, with his suave smile and screaming fangirls, was the last person you’d think to be a college virgin. 

His ego was large enough to make up for any of his other shortcomings, boasting the pride of prepping to be a professional athlete as well as a full-time college student. No one doubted that he’d snogged countless fans or taken especially eager girls to back closets for fun, but what seemed to have slipped past them was his dedication to volleyball, always.

So dedicated, he didn’t even have the time for a serious girlfriend.

Miya Atsumu, playboy of the year, was a virgin. But he’d raise all hell if he let anyone around him find out. So when his team went out for dinner after a particularly brutal victory, Atsumu was happy to get in on all the locker room talk. He was sure he could keep up this facade.

Yet somehow, it spiraled into a competition. Although Atsumu had never been one to be invited to sleepovers or highschool parties, far too busy practicing with his team, he imagined it felt something like this.

“So,” one of the wing spikers started. “How old were you all when you lost your virginity?” The men around him laughed it off, ready to tell stories of their (awkward) first times. Each took their turn, wanting to be the youngest or the one with the best tale to tale. And then, all eyes fell on Atsumu.

Atsumu was a great liar, really. But the bar was loud and he felt the eyes of his teammates like ants on his skin and while he was confident in volleyball there was little he knew about this and Atsumu could not bring himself to do anything but sit there and stare aimlessly. The team waited for an answer.

Finally, their starting setter, who had undoubtedly been chosen based on seniority alone, broke out into laughter. “He’s a virgin!” he realized. “Miya Atsumu is a virgin!” The whole table broke out into rancorous laughter. There wasn’t truly anything bad about being a college virgin, a few on the team had admitted to it before Atsumu. But his attitude of control and snarky attitude on the court had everyone waiting to find something just one thing they could tease Miya Atsumu about. 

“I could fuck anyone if I wanted to!” was his quick reply, thinking back to all the girls cheering his names in the stands (and the boys who’d give him a slap on the ass to say “good job”). Surely, he could give up his virginity in an instant, if he put his mind to it.

“Oh, yeah?” It was a middle blocker speaking now, one who Atsumu had the (dis)pleasure of sharing a few classes with. “Even that girl in calc...the one who does all the group projects on her own and everything…”

Atsumu knew immediately who he was talking about. Y/N L/N. You were basically a genius, always getting the highest marks and never taking a moment to wait for those around you to catch up. He’d never even spoken to you. But right now, his pride was on the line.

“Pfft,” he forced a chuckle. “Easy.”

The table erupted into booming laughter again, at Atsumu’s declaration, but quickly quieted down as the senior setter leaned forward with a wager. “Then have sex with her,” he smirks. “Before the next game.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “What do I get out of it?” Aside from the loss of his v-card, of course.

“I’ll ask coach to make you the starting setter.” A hush fell on the table as if a ghost had passed through. “But if you lose, you join as a wing spiker.”

Atsumu gulped down his fears. He was never one to back down on a bet. Besides, the only reason he was a virgin still was because of volleyball. Might as well gain something from it.

He pushed his hand forward, shaking the senior setter’s firmly.

“Deal.”

***

“Could you tutor me?”

Miya Atsumu wasn’t stupid. He’d never been in a serious relationship, but he knew if he asked one of his fangirls to sneak off with him they’d do it in a heartbeat. He knew he could probably find at least one girl within a mile radius who wanted to have sex with him and flirt his way to her bed.

But you weren’t just any girl.

As much as he dreaded school, Atsumu was painfully observant of the people around him. He’d noticed you before, in class and occasionally at games. You kept to yourself without anyone to talk to you, but on the occasion, he’d seen you with friends you shined brighter than any of them. It made him breathless.

Still, he knew you wouldn’t be easy. In group projects, you’d always been devilish with your expectations, dishing out jobs to everyone in an instant and critiquing their work for the best results (this quality shamefully reminded Atsumu of himself, but he’d never mentioned it).

Frankly, he was at a loss of how to get to your bed. But he knew he needed to start by talking to you, and that you’d shut down any friendly flirtation he started with. So he did something more direct. He theorized even if you weren’t keen, you were kind enough not to shut him down completely and hopefully that’d be his chance to talk with you more. But what he hadn’t calculated was your response.

“Atsumu, right? What do you need help with?”

Huh?

You hadn’t even hesitated to agree, looking up at him expectantly.

“Uh...deriving complex functions?” He thinks that’s what they’re doing in class.

You place a hand to your chin, nodding as if you were deep in thought. “Yeah, that’s pretty tough,” you agree, thinking. “I’m free after six tonight, meet me at the library?” you ask him directly.

For once in his life, Miya Atsumu is frozen. “Uh, sure?”

“Cool, give me your number in case something comes up,” you said nonchalantly, grabbing your phone. Before he could even process what was happening, he’d put his number in your phone and you were walking away from him, bidding him a friendly “see you later.”

As he watched your figure get smaller, he was reminded of all the cold comments he’d heard about how difficult you were to approach and the nicknames people said behind your back. He stifled a laugh.

Atsumu wondered if they’d even spoke to you.

***

You here?

It was the first thing Atsumu had texted you once he got your number. He didn’t come to the library often, far more concerned with practice than studying, but as he sat to get out his work from earlier he realized it was actually quite calming. Compared to the loud and irritating bar from days earlier, Atsumu was certain he preferred this.

Sorry, was out with friends. Be there in a few!

He grumbled when he saw his phone. Maybe it couldn’t be helped, but you could’ve at least had the decency to text him earlier, right? Slowly Atsumu felt himself spiraling, his bad habit of finding the negative in just about everything sneaking up his back.

But all his qualms were forgotten when you walked through the doors.

He supposed he’d only ever seen you in class and at a few volleyball games. He quicked up quickly that you were a creature of comfort, preferring a pair of loose sweatpants to anything else. Yet you walked through the door fresh from a night out with friends with your hair done up and a pair of flattering slacks clinging to your waist (and a bit further south as well but Atsumu wasn’t ready to mention that, yet).

“Miya?” He was broken from his trance by your voice, which had a playful lilt to it he’d never quite noticed before.

“Just call me Atsumu,” he heard himself saying out of habit. Even without Osamu at his side in college, Atsumu was never really comfortable being called by his family name. It just wasn’t normal. Still, his cheeks flared up as he worried you’d see it as flirtations instead and be scared off.

“I-”

“Sure thing, Atsumu,” you agreed without hesitation. Oh. All of Atsumu’s nerves were on edge. Nothing to worry about, huh? He quite liked how his name sounded on your lips. He could listen to it on repeat for days, probably.

Snapping him out of his trance, you were quick to get to business. Although Atsumu came with ulterior motives, you were an incredible help. Your notes were neat and easy to understand, but whatever he stumbled on you still found ways to re-word so they’d make sense. He could practically feel all the wheels in his head turning when you spoke like he was in the middle of an intense volley trying to figure out what came next.

Actually, you made it kind of fun.

Before he realized, an hour had elapsed and he felt his eyelids drooping. It wasn’t often that Atsumu used his brain that intensely without break, and he could feel his focus starting to waver. But you’d made it so easy to focus, he’d easily lost track of time.

You let out a sigh next to him. “That’s enough for today,” you determined, shutting your notebook. “Seeing as we have a quiz next class, I can meet again to tutor the night before if you’d like? Just keep doing the practice I showed you and we can do some review.” You had everything planned out in your mind already.

Atsumu let his head hit the table in exhaustion. Although normally he’d have a snarky comment for anyone who dared tease him, he let your laughter ease over him like a blanket. It was music to his ears.

“Get better and it won’t be so tiring,” you assured him, patting his shoulder. Before he could agree or disagree with anything you’d asked him, you had one foot out the door. “See you Wednesday at six,” you bid him goodbye (though Atsumu swore it sounded more like an order).

He grumbled against the table once again, quick to back up his notebook. There was still practice, after all.

While Atsumu found himself more tired than usual at practice, having already used his mind plenty, it was enthralling. The quips of his teammates, asking if it was some hot banging that had tired him out, fell on deaf ears. He could only think about how you’d managed to make calculus of all things sound interesting and the smell of your perfume whenever you bent close to him. Sure, your expectations for him were evident but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wondered how anyone could have called you ‘cold.’

***

Your next tutoring session went fairly standard. True to your word, you checked over the review and prepped for your exam the next day. While you harshly pointed out Atsumu’s repeated mistakes, you gave him insightful tips and tricks to help him fix them in the same breath. You were definitely a genius, he determined.

But he’d also realized he was getting nowhere with these tutoring sessions. Your company was surprisingly relaxing in the midst of his long days and he was delighted at the playful jokes you always managed to slip in, but there were no sparks and his next game was drawing nearer. The word wing spiker loomed over his head like a curse.

He had to do something to change this.

“Would you want to grab coffee with me?” he found himself asking as you packed your bag. For a moment you looked at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, no fear of misunderstanding the situation. As usual, Atsumu was shaken to his core by your forwardness. He thought he was honest. But he was certain now was the time to back down.

“If I am, would you say yes?” he flirts back, praying you can’t see the sweat dripping down his neck. There was something electric and unnerving about your smile, seemingly unhindered.

“The Miya Atsumu…” you put on a face like you’re deep in thought, but you’re already sure of your answer. “Sure,” you grin. “Text me the details.” Before he even has the chance to celebrate, you’re gone.

The next day, Atsumu got his highest grade on a quiz since grade school (he wasn’t stupid, really, just very average with school). Even when he got stuck on questions, he’d visualize your mechanical pencil (you’d covered it in stickers) gliding across his page and the sound of your voice, explaining each problem patiently and easily. Then, he’d know what to do.

He texted you a thank you with a flurry of emojis, supremely grateful for your help. Soon, he’s pulling on his nicest pair of jeans for his casual date with you, brimming with energy. Atsumu was so excited he could just kiss you.

That is until he was sitting in front of you in the cafe, realizing he’d never talked to you about anything but calculus. And now that he had his breakthrough and secured a date, he was hopeless. He had no idea where to start. So, always quite shallow, he broke the ice by saying what was on his mind.

“Why’d you agree to tutor me?” For a moment, he wonders if you’ll get offended by the question before he’s reminded of all your rude comments about his mathematical prowess. He was certain you had tougher skin than that. “I mean, I sort of asked you out of the blue. Don’t you want money? Food?”

He expects you to take a while to answer since you seem like the person to have calculated reasons behind all your actions, but your answer is almost immediate.

“Is it not enough to just want company?” you wonder, completely unabashed. Atsumu almost blushes for you, before you think for a moment and find you stumbling over your words. It’s the first time he’s heard you sound unsure of yourself and he ingrains the moment of vulnerability into his mind like a movie he’ll play one day. He never wants to forget the sight of your lightly flushed cheeks, eyes scattering to break contact with him.

“W-What I mean is,” you interrupt yourself. “I hear people talk and I know my reputation. I get focused on work and people get scared away...” Atsumu knows that feeling. “I guess I was just over eager that someone would approach me. Is that weird?”

Ah. Atsumu thinks. This is my chance.

He bends forward, his hand brushing against yours, and greets you with a practiced smile. It’s the sort of smirk that is sneaky enough to have any girl squealing, but sincere enough not to scare you away. “Not at all, doll,” he promises, voice like honey.

Mentally, Atsumu congratulates himself for the smooth delivery, sure that he’ll have you in his arms in no time. Instead, you start laughing at him.

“Do not call me that!” you exclaim, tears bursting from the corners of your eyes. “What do you think this is, the 1950s? [Y/N] will do, yeah?” Your hands reach up to wipe your eyes and the entire atmosphere Atsumu worked to create is lost (although secretly, he prefers that honest and straightforward attitude you replace it with) and he’s left staring at you blankly.

“Why’d you ask in the first place?” you wonder, looking sufficiently amused.

Because I want to have sex with you.

Atsumu finds himself attacked by his own thoughts. It’s not that he wants to, of course. It’s just that he was dared to and he can’t lose the bet. But, wouldn’t it be more enjoyable if he wanted to? Of course, he could want to. But he thinks to get there he’d need to be terribly emotionally invested and he’s barely even had a girlfriend and you’re definitely too perfect for him and-

“Atsumu?” You’re smiling up at him, eyebrows raised. “Did I manage to leave you, who never shuts up,” He wants to tell you that you’re wrong but he knows you’re not and you won’t hesitate to remind him of that. “Speechless?”

He can’t let you catch on, Atsumu tells himself. “I’m bad at calculus and you’re good,” he decides is a good lie. Straightforward and true, just like you. “Is that not enough?” You huff, leaning back in your seat.

“Touche.”

Although your date had started off awkward and tense, Atsumu felt the relief of being entirely comfortable talking to you. He got lost in your quick wit and electric eyes, losing track of the conversation and letting himself get immersed entirely in you. Before he knew it, your phone was going off.

“Shit!” you rushed to turn it off. “I’ve got class in ten.” You were quick to grab your bag and head out, and Atsumu felt his stomach drop, wishing he’d said something. Yet just as quickly you were turning on your heal, an unfamiliar shakiness in your voice, as you bent down to plant on Atsumu’s cheek.

“Same time next week?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

Atsumu felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he smiled back at you. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

In the blink of an eye, you became a surprisingly regular part of Miya Atsumu’s daily life. He’d sit next to you in calculus and on days you didn’t have calculus he’ get coffee with you. Every day you were there next to him, smiling fearlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to your untouchable reputation, but he’d never hesitated to be beside you.

For two weeks this had gone on, your strange friendship that sprung up out of nowhere raging strong. But Atsumu’s next game was soon and he felt the pressure. Yet he knew, no matter what, he didn’t want to ruin what he had going with you. Maybe, it was even worth being wing spiker for a season.

“Could I come to the match tomorrow?” you asked as you were getting ready to leave one day. Atsumu almost choked on his coffee, not prepared for such a bold question. He wanted to ask you who you were asking him as: a volleyball fan, a friend or… a partner?

He shooed the thought from his head. Although both of you called these coffee outings “dates,” they’d never ended with anything more than him walking you him and a kiss on the cheek outside the door to your apartment. You were far from dating.

“Sure, why not?” he responded, pretending to keep his cool. But would you like him less when you realized he was benched? Why did you even want to go?

“It’s raining,” you moaned, distracted from Atsumu’s response. He looked to your (lovely) legs to see you were wearing shorts and converse, definitely not ideal for this weather.

“I’ll drive you home,” he offered, keen on showing off his new car. He’d already sent you a photo of it, of course (a selfie, actually. He looked quite stunning) but he still wanted to show you in person. Soon, you were next to him in the passenger seat, looking at the road ahead.

You made normal small talk, but Atsumu noticed your hand seemed to be wondering closer to the area between you two. He ignored it.

When you reached your apartment, he walked you in like normal. He waved hello to the person at the security desk, they were familiar with him at this point. Finally, the two of you reached the doormat. It always felt to him like a save point in a game before a boss. He just couldn’t seem to get past it and into your apartment.

But when he noticed you wore a different lip gloss than usual and a new perfume, he thought maybe today could be the day. He swallowed, rolling his shoulders back. He’d make his move for sure. Breathing in, he readied his mind for what he’d say to you, wondering what kind of flirting could make you break.

“Kiss me.”

Huh.

“Atsumu,” you looked up at him, eyes demanding. “Kiss me.”

When he first started talking to you, occasionally you’d say something that caught him so off guard he’d freeze up and have no idea what to do. But kissing wasn’t sex, and Atsumu knew he could win in a battle of the lips. Before you could even fully open your door, he’d close the space between you two.

He didn’t take a moment to question why you asked him, instead silently praying you felt the same pull to him that he did to you. The kiss was desperate and long-awaited. As soon as he was in the apartment you were closing the door behind him and letting him press you up against him.

Desperately, Atsumu wanted to feel all of you. He gripped his hands around your waist and sucked at your lips, begging to be closer to you. It was intense and passionate and everything he’d ever dreamed of.

The two of you were a mess of sweat and pent up tension, but somehow you made it to your bedroom. Your hands searched over Atsumu, wanting to feel the expanse of his toned body and broad shoulders. You could feel him getting excited against you, edging him on by grind against him. More you called out. You wanted to feel more of him, all of him.

And then he froze.

You looked up to him, confused. “Are you okay, Atsumu?” you pulled away from him immediately, scared that you’d set something off. Instead, you reached out to grab his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We can stop if this is too fast,” you assured him. While you’d been getting impatient waiting for him to make a move, the last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable with you.

“I’m fine,” he promised you, but his eyes said differently. His pupils were blown out and his eyes wide but he looked downright scared. You breathed out, not yet sure how to comfort him. Instead, you took in all the things you knew about him, coolly trying to wonder what could be bothering him.

“Is this going to lead to sex?” he asked you, sitting on your bed with his clothes riled up and his face looking very thoroughly kissed. You wanted to laugh, looking at his swollen red lips and the clueless expression on his face because the answer would be clear to anyone else, but Atsumu kept surprising you. Still, you knew better than to make fun of him. It was very clear he was trusting himself to you.

“If you want it to you,” you answer, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But it doesn’t have to.”

There’s a nervousness in Atsumu’s eyes that you were unfamiliar with. It was different than the frustration that built up when he didn’t understand math, or the shyness he tried to hide whenever he’d flirt with you. It was the realization that if he wanted whatever was between the two of you to go anywhere, he had to come clean now.

“I asked you to tutor me because my seniors on the volleyball team dared me to have sex with you!” he burst, folding in on himself.

For a moment you thought you could feel your heartbreaking because you couldn’t believe you’d let yourself get tricked. But naively, you prayed that maybe his feelings still rang true, reminding yourself of all the coffee dates and late nights studying. That worth more than just a dare, you hoped.

“But I asked you on the coffee date because I like you! I sat next to you in calculus because I like you and I don’t care what people say about you!” Atsumu declared, face burning red.

You knew there was a lot that could get under Miya Atsumu’s skin. You’d been to a few practice volleyball games where he played and seen his short fuse first hand, but still, you found yourself surprised and relieved by his words. Atsumu was, if nothing else, straight forward. Even though he’d had different motives, you knew he still worked hard to get better at calculus. You knew how his face lit up whenever you walked into the cafe and the most common emojis he used when he texted. You had no doubt behind his words now.

“So,” you start teasingly, tracing circles around his shoulder. “Does that make you a virgin?” The way your voice dropped, eyes looking promisingly at Atsumu like he was about to be devoured, had him straining against his pants.

“Yeah,” he admitted, pupils blown out for a whole new reason.

You slid yourself over him, letting your self straddle his hips. Your fingers continued to trace his chest, appreciating all the time he spent training. Excruciatingly slowly, you bent forward to whisper against his ear. “Let’s change that tonight, yeah?”

That was enough for Atsumu.

For a virgin, he was surprisingly dominating while you made out. Atsumu brought his mouth to yours once again, quick to bite at your lips. His hands came up to knead your ass, large and strong. I’ve been waiting to do that, Atsumu thought, picturing your slacks from the first time you tutored him. He always did love to see you walk away.

Soon, he got bored with your lips and found himself peppering kissing across your jawline and traveling across your neck. As he got to the crook between your should and neck he heard your breath hitch. Perfect. 

Mercilessly, he nipped and sucked at the spot. As much as you tried to keep down your moans, you felt them bubbling up in your chest.

“You know…” you told him breathlessly. “For someone who’s never had sex you’re awfully good at this.”

Atsumu scoffed in response. “I’m a virgin, not a celibate,” he explained, before going after your neck again. You threw your head back in pleasure, giving him easier access. You wondered what else he could do with his mouth.

His pursuit of learning about your entire body continued, one hand leaving your ass to grope your breasts. He reached his hand up and under your shirt, sending shocks straight to your core as his calloused fingers brushed over your skin. Finally, palm landed on your breast, feeling it enthusiastically. You could hear him sigh as he did it, surely having played this moment over in his mind time after time.

You wanted to enjoy it, really, but there was only so much you could handle. “It’s not a balloon!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

“Hey, I was busy with that,” Atsumu teased but brought his hand away regardless. He held onto your hips, instead, watching as you rid yourself of your shirt and bra. He watched you with a calculating eye, trying to learn more, to be better.

“Like this,” you told him, dragging his hand to your breast again. You had him pressing feather-light touches to you. “Gentle,” you whispered, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. He took your directions carefully, bringing both of his hands up to take in your chest. He was more careful now, experimenting. He ghosted his thumb over your nipple, watching how your body shivered in response.

Atsumu was completely in tune with your every reaction and quickly understood how sensitive you’d become from this slow grueling pace. All he’d done was play with your nipples, switching between light ghosts of touches and rougher swipes with the pads of his fingers, but he could already feel you grinding against him.

Unable to hold back, he finally broke his concentrated silence, letting a groan out into your shoulder.

“Right,” you noticed, looking down. “You probably want to take care of that?” As if teasing him, you rolled your hips against his bulge again. His grip around your waist tightened.

Atsumu started to protest. “But-”

“No buts!” you cut him off. “I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” you promised, eyes unwavering.

This was even better than his dreams.

“Whatever you say, [Y/N],” he breathed out, letting you get up so your hands could work at his belt.

“Call me doll,” you muttered, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down. Although he was still in his boxers, you went to your own shorts first, pulling them down eagerly.

Atsumu twitched. “What is this,” he drawled. “The 1950s?” It felt good to have the upper hand for once.

“Throw me a bone here, you won’t even take your own clothes off,” you whined, pulling at his shirt. He helped you along the way, getting it over his head. Finally, you pulled his boxers off, letting his erection stand tall and proud for all to see.

You gulped at the sight of it. His length was average, but it was quite girthy with an intimidating tilt to it. How many fingers is that? You wondered.

“Impressive?” Atsumu asked when he noticed your wide eyes. The only people he’d ever really compared himself to were porn stars and his brother so truly he had no idea if he was packing, but he’d let you do the talking tomorrow.

But you were quick to wipe the wonderous expression of your face. “In your dreams,” you bit back, going to grab a condom.

“In your nightstand?” Atsumu said incredulously. You rolled your eyes.

“Where else?”

Touche.

You started to unpack the condom and roll it over his member, eager to get the show on the road, but Atsumu found himself grabbing your wrists. “What about you?” he asked. “I mean…” Atsumu was never one to admit to his shortcomings, but there was something pretty clear here. You had more experience than him. “Don’t you want to feel good, too?”

If your pace was too fast, you’d probably get left high and dry while Atsumu chased his orgasm. “Couldn’t I…” he gestured with his hands, pushing two fingers forward. “Help you out?”

You chuckled. “Love if you’ve never fingered a girl before I’m not becoming your test subject,” you quipped, Atsumu grumbling below you. What was the point if you didn’t both enjoy yourselves? “But…” you traced his jawline. “I can show you how I do it next time. Teach you how I like it?”

Atsumu smirked, pulling you down to the bed with him and rolling over you so he could linger over you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, sweet and so unlike him. “Sounds perfect, doll,” he whispered against your lips.

You gulped. For someone so inexperienced, there was an intensity to his eyes that went unmatched by anyone else. Even when you had been the one guiding him along, you felt his eyes drinking all of you up. He was truly beautiful, leaning over you in all his glory. You could get used to that sight.

“Is…” he cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I put it in?” he asked, reminding you both that he was still unsure of himself.

“Yeah,” you assured, reaching up to grab his hand. “Take it slow.”

He did, Excruciatingly. You felt his tip enter you curiously, already stretching you out so well. Atsumu entered you in a way that you felt every single millimeter. You yearned for him to get closer, to fill you better.

“More,” you whined out.

Atsumu smirked at you, his face screaming I win. “What’s that, doll?” You groaned, rolling your head back. ��You wanted me to take it slow?” he taunted.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Atsumu!” you snapped, pushing your hips up to meet his. You sighed at the feeling as he finally bottomed out. But Atsumu didn’t take your challenge lightly, not letting up. He pulled back out of you, only to snap his hips back. You had no time to get used to his size, not with the brutal pace he was setting.

Soon, you were a mess. While you were fairly sure Atsumu was simply his own release, he made you feel so damn good while doing it. His strong hips pushed back into you ruthlessly, hitting you deep and well. Your arms wrapped around his back, nails pressing into his shoulders.

“You like that, doll?” he asked through his own groans. He’d done his best to hold them back, but the feeling of you surrounding every single inch of him was simply too much. You felt too good.

“Yeah baby,” you urged him on. “You’re doing so well. You’re fucking me so well.” Your nails gripped into him, scratching at his back. But it only had him pushing harder into you, feeding into your praise. He was the one wrecking you like this.

Yet Atsumu lost track of his inhibitions and quickly found himself feeling a familiar coil in his stomach. He didn’t want this to end yet. He wanted to feel more of you, all of you. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold back.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “There’ll be time to do more. Let go.” It angered him that you had the energy to soothe him while he was trying to fuck you silly, but that only encouraged him to push harder. Through your own moans, you found it in you to whisper to him. “Please, Atsumu. Cum for me.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands grabbed your hips, surely tight enough to leave bruises, and snapped forward, pushing all of himself into you. He came into the condom in hot streams, breathing heavily.

“I’ve never orgasmed like that,” he admitted, finally slipping out of you. You whimpered a bit at the feeling of being empty, before taking the semen-filled condom out of you.

“Ew,” the two of you said in unison, before laughing at one another.

Even though you’d just been thoroughly fucked and he felt like he’d ran a marathon, Atsumu bathed in the feeling of complete trust he had when he was beside you. It was incredible.

“I could sleep for days,” Atsumu sighed, collapsing on your bed. You laughed at him, pulling on a nightshirt.

“Hey, don’t cover the view!” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him. As if he didn’t stare at it long enough to etch it into his mind.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you reminded him. “Gotta laugh in your teammates’ face for that dumbass dare, so you can only sleep for one night.” You snuggled up against Atsumu, letting his warmth wash over the best of you.

You were too tired to really process the surprised in Atsumu’s voice when he agreed with you, too busy drifting off to sleep.

***

The match came without fail. Atsumu didn’t mention anything to his teammates as you gave him a kiss good luck before he entered the gym. You had proudly donned his jersey, ready to support him from the stands. But if that wasn’t enough, the scratch marks all across Atsumu’s back were enough to thoroughly shut up any doubts his teammates had about the night prior.

Atsumu was the setter for the whole game.

[kkoumiii]

Hi! How are you? Can you do a Yuna personality reading? Thank you.

Hey anon, I'm alright thanks for asking, what about you? Of course I can! Let's dive right into this cute girl personality ☀️

/!\ Friendly reminder that my readings are not to take at face value, I do not mean any harm to this idol, it’s only for entertainment purpose. /!\

✧ 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚 ➵ 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

✾ ᵠᵘᵉᵉⁿ (ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵗᵗʳⁱᵇᵘᵗᵉ), ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʳᵒˢˢ, ᵏⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷᵃⁿᵈˢ ʳˣ

⇝ Yuna is charismatic and she attracts a lot of envious people for this reason. Sometimes without attending to, she might appear a bit presumptuous, arrogant, proud… It’s just that she exudes this “grande dame” energy and people might misinterpret this for superficiality. However, it’s only a façade because she’s not like that once you get to know her. She doesn’t seek attention, she just does things in her own way, the way she likes. I feel like it annoys her that people keep getting this impression about her. When she feels like she’s observed insistently or she’s being judged, she feels attacked and thus she becomes a bit more aggressive or at least she’s on the defensive. Yuna wants to try out many things in her life but she finds it difficult to step out of her comfort zone. There’re so many things that she wants to experiment that she tends to be dispersed, she doesn’t know where to start. She can’t stay focus on one objective because her attention is easily diverted. She’s truly a ball of joy and energy, she needs adventures, excitement, adrenaline, intense emotions…

✾ ᵉⁿᵍⁱⁿᵉᵉʳ (ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷ ᵃᵗᵗʳⁱᵇᵘᵗᵉ), ˢᵒˡᵃʳ ᵉᶜˡⁱᵖˢᵉ, ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ

⇝ She seeks intensity but she already feels a lot to the point of being overwhelmed. Whenever it happens, she starts to block her emotions and she becomes a lot more rational, logical and aloof in order to protect herself. She’s also resilient, stubborn and determined, she knows what she wants, and she won’t let people walk all over her. She needs to be heard and to express her opinions, and without realizing she may impose them. She has strong opinions that she defends fiercely and she needs to feel that she’s supported in this sense. She finds it hard to listen to others, she wants to be the first to speak and then other people can share their thoughts. This might contribute to the fact that certain people find her to be superficial and arrogant. She has to protect herself because she might attract a lot of jealousy and resentment. In reality, there might be a bit of “I’m the one and only” in the sense that if she needs something, she has to be the top priority and everyone around should provide for her. She likes it when people are dedicated to her, she is used to be pampered and it’s even more felt when she takes a decision. She might be immature on this point. She can be a bit bossy from time to time. Rather than becoming distant and rational, maybe she doesn’t let her emotions showing through, she puts a smile on her face and acts like nothing can hurt her. Though she’s touchy and has a lot more pride that she appears to.

✾ ᵐᵉˢˢⁱᵃʰ (ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷ ᵃᵗᵗʳⁱᵇᵘᵗᵉ), 1ˢᵗ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ, 6 ᵒᶠ ˢʷᵒʳᵈˢ

⇝ In any case, she’s truly full of enthusiasm and happiness, she’s a ball of joy and a mood-maker. Whenever someone is feeling down, she will do her best to bright up their mood and make them laugh. She’s sincerely kind and wants the best for everyone, she only struggles to set limits between others’ desires and hers because she wants everything to be done the way she wants. I feel like she questions herself a lot because she’s really hard-working but since she tends to disperse her attention, she feels like she can’t see the end of her project and some goals seem somehow unreachable to her. She wonders what’s the use of her hard work, what is truly her goal, what it brings to her… She’s still trying to figure out her identity. She’s impressive in a way because she needs to be reassured and by attracting people’s attention, she finds something interesting in herself. Yet whenever she’s alone, she’s lost and has many doubts. I feel a bit of sadness coming from her :( I don’t know if she’s an only child but she feels lonely and misunderstood, because she’s used to be spoiled and provided with tangible things, but no one was checking up on her and showing her that she’s valuable. She needs more of an emotional support rather than a material one actually. Even if she needs help, she won’t show it and hide it behind a smile. Yuna remains someone generous, it’s not because she’s used to be served first that she doesn’t care about her peers’ needs, she won’t hesitate to help them and share what she has.

She's sooooo cute look at this face 🥺 Don't forget that my readings are only for entertainment purposes and I'm picking up on her current energy. She still has a lot to learn and to experiment so as to grow. Lots of love to her and her group 🌼

Bye 💛

- kkօմตííí ❁

[sluttbuttsstuff]

La Squadra Backstory Headcanons Part 1 (GHIACCHIO AND MELONE

Since we’re probably never going to get any straight answers on their backstory, i’m writing my own for them.  Obviously, none of this is canon and guesswork

WARNINGS: none really, aside from dark themes 

GHIACCHIO:  

Came from a very large and very poor family, the youngest of many children.  

As a result, he was the last to get anything-last to get fed, last to get clothed, last to get attention.

He didn’t get the proper care he truly needed, so he had to fight and take what he really needed, or he would have to make do without.

He’s always had awful eyesight, but it wasn’t until stealing a classmate’s glasses that happened to be exactly what Ghiacchio needed, he fought the kid for them and gave him a black eye

“There, now you can’t even use them, they’re better off with me!”

Despite getting into a lot of fights, School was actually something of a sanctuary for Ghiaccio.  

He got the attention he needed, he was able to get free food through the lunch program, and excelled in several sports activities and physical Ed.

During middle school, under encouragement of a favorite teacher of his, he dedicated himself to his studies, and enrolled in as many extra curricular activities as he could stomach.

With his impressive physical fitness, natural intelligence, and a little anger management, his teacher convinced him he could get into a good college with a full scholarship that he wouldn’t otherwise be able to get into

Ghiacchio wasn’t always as loud, angry and violent as he was in La Squadra, but he did have issues with anger management, an inferiority complex, and a self-sabotaging need to always be right.  

But his teacher, now his mentor, never gave up on him.  He took Ghiaccio to therapy, gave him a shoulder to lean on, and served as the support he never got from his parents or siblings.

His family had no interest or desire to get involved with his life, or offer any support or encouragement.

School was tough- it was extremely stressful and he was pushing himself to his limits.  He had very little sleep, had to maintain a 4.0 grade average, but despite it all, Ghiacchio was very happy.

His mentor was like a father figure to him, without him, Ghiacchio wouldn’t have been able to get as far as he did.

And then the worst happened.

His mentor died naturally, of a heart attack, he was an older gentleman with a history of heart disease in his family.

It still broke Ghiaccio.

He skipped school for the first time in years to attend his funeral, and ended up getting in a fight with one of his teachers at school the next day.

Ghiacchio and his teacher argued over the correct pronunciation of a word, but really Ghiacchio was angry at his teachers and school-hell, the WORLD- that no one else had been at his mentor’s funeral.  He felt like no one cared about his mentor, and that included him.  

He broke the teacher’s nose, as well as several other bruises and nearly gave him a concussion.

Obviously, he was expelled from school after that, and sent to a juvenile prison.  He was able to finish high school in juvie, but no university or sports team wanted to sponsor him or offer him a scholarship. 

 It is his greatest regret, not being able to get the scholarship he and his mentor worked so hard for

But at the same time, he doesn’t regret attacking his other teacher and leaving school; he couldn’t stand by and let his mentor’s memory be forgotten, besmirched.

He would be picked up by Passione through the juvie system, he kept getting into petty fights with others and managed to impress some soldatos into offering him initiation.

I like to think that his strict grammar pet peeve stems from his mentor, who taught italian grammar and literature studies, and as a result was especially strict with teaching Ghiacchio proper italian.

The ice theme for his stand?  Yeah, it’s funny because he’s a hot head, but i think it’s his stand, as an extension of his mentor’s teachings trying to literally “Cool” him down.  He has to use a lot of focus to use White Album properly, just like how his studies and athletics would distract him from his own mental health issues.

At least, this is just what I think lol

MELONE:

Hoo-boy, this kiddo has to have had some serious  family issues

His father was the head doctor at the most prestigious fertility clinic in Italy

(He was also secretly into eugenics, and lots of other nasty stuff, but let’s get into that later)

He was so successful, he had even cured his own wife’s infertility

At least, that’s what he had everyone believe

Secretly, Melone’s father had had an extramarital affair with his secretary, who became pregnant and had Melone.

Under extreme threats and blackmail, Melone’s father managed to take Melone away from his biological mother, and convince his wife to raise Melone as her own.

Needless to say, Melone’s father was a very bad, manipulative man

Despite this, his wife had always wanted a child, and actually loved him and cared for him deeply, and Melone became her child as much as his biological mother

Melone’s father was very strict and had high expectations of Melone from a young age.

Melone had private tutors, a personal chef and nutrition plan, and even a physical fitness teacher who would regularly exercise him.

Melone had no other siblings, surprisingly, despite his father’s obsession with eugenics and breeding.  

His father must have been afraid of the possible scandal that would arise from an affair or divorce (italy is still a heavily catholic country after all) and his wife, Melone’s “adoptive” mother was still barren,

Since Melone was an only child, home schooled and surrounded by paid lackeys of his father, he was very lonely.  

His mother was his one and only real friend in his life.  She would sneak him dessert snacks, read him fairytale stories if he got tired of his textbooks, and even played games like jump rope and hide and seek with him.

The entire reason his “Adoptive” mother had married his father in the first place was because it had been her lifelong dream to have children, and she was determined to give Melone all the love his father couldn’t and wouldn’t.

And that was life for a long time- it wasn’t the best childhood but Melone couldn’t really complain.  His father kind of scared him, but at the same time he earned Melone’s respect.  

Melone was interested in Biology, and learning about genetics like his father.

And when the stress of living up to his father, and his own, expectations became too hard, he could always run to his mother.

Then, Melone’s biological mother found him

Melone’s biological mother had never really gotten over losing her only child, and despite the monthly salary and isolated home she had received for her silence, she couldn’t forget about Melone.  

It started innocuously enough, clipping out pictures she saw of him and his father from the clinic’s advertisement brochures, watching him from afar play at the beach with his mother on vacation.  

But it wasn’t enough- she couldn’t just GIVE UP her child.

She started to stalk him, taking photos of him playing in his backyard, going through the garbage to find old school projects and tests in the trash can.  She would try to sneak into the house, bribing guards and getting in fights with the tutors trying to get into Melone’s home.  

Melone didn’t know the whole story between his parents and this “Surrogate” (he had been sworn to secrecy by his mother, knowing it was important to tell adopted children early on or risk causing severe trauma later in life)  but he knew his parents were becoming more and more stressed out.

One day, it came to a head, and Melone’s biological mother successfully was able to meet Melone.  

Melone was a little afraid at first, but his other mommy was so nice to him, and gave him lots of hugs and love like his other mom and played with him at the park.  

They actually had a really fun time together, and it had a lasting impact on Melone for the rest of his life.

But all good things have to end, and for the first time in his young life, Melone was confronted with death.  

Eventually, Melone’s bodyguards (his father had employed some after finding out about Melone's biological mother stalking him) caught up to them, and Melone and his mother tried to escape.  

Melone’s other mother was with the bodyguards,and when Melone saw her, he was unsure of what to do.

He loved both of his mothers, he wanted to stay with both of them, why were they making him choose?

Under His father’s orders The bodyguards, who Melone later found out were associated with passione, shot his biological mother.  Terrified Melone would be shot as well, his adoptive mother dove in front of him to protect him from the bullets.

Both of his mothers were shot, his father had ordered them to kill the bio mother no matter what, even if Melone got shot.  Apparently, MElone’s father would rather risk his son’s life than let his bio mother escape with them and risk the scandal.  Knowing this, his adoptive mother was shot and killed protecting him.  

On that day, Melone lost both of his mothers, the most important people in his life, all because of his father.  

It took a long time for Melone to process what happened-his father didn’t help things either.  He was just as cold and clinical with Melone as ever, and with no one who truly cared about him in his life, Melone withdrew more and more into himself and his studies.

He was civil with his father, and maintained his studies and health, until he officially turned 18.  

After years of planning, he poisoned his father in his sleep and killed him.

The Police were never able to press charges or find any evidence on him, but Passione noticed, and saw potential in him.  

They gave him an ultimatum, pass initiation and join their ranks, or get turned into the police by passione and get his inheritance stolen by the gang.

Without much of a choice, Melone agrees, and finds he actually likes life in la squadra

It goes without saying, his mothers were a huge influence in both his life and his stand.

Both of his mother’s lives were so sad and lonely because they couldn’t have a child.  

He desperately wishes he could have used Baby Face on his mothers, either not realizing or not caring about the implications.

Despite his mother’s best efforts, Melone never really had proper social interaction as a child, and it seriously screwed him over in life, even interacting with la squadra. 

 He’s read up on how to behave in public, social psychology, but it's not the same as learning as a child

It’s easier to learn those things as a child, which is why he makes sure to spend at least a little time with each Baby Face on how to behave and treat others; at least they can succeed where he couldn’t.

It’s also why he can’t control himself around women- he thinks he’s genuinely helping them by giving them children or getting them pregnant.

He’s giving them what his own mothers couldn’t

And you can BET he takes his role as father VERY seriously- you saw how he taught and trained Baby Face in canon.  He’s intense, but he’s also a lot more loving than his own dad was.

I’ll admit, this backstory is a little bit “Soap Opera” but I think it still fits him