#i applied to performing arts jobs

[supercantaloupe]

i'm also looking for a job right now (one of those studying a degree needing a graduate degree to work, fml) and the job market is so fucked right now. i hope you do find one soon.

thank you for your kind thoughts. i think at this point, barring any potential one-off gigs i might get asked to play, it's really unlikely i'll get a job this summer. on the bright side i DO have a job lined up for the fall -- i'm working a fellowship at my university while i'm in grad school. it doesn't pay very much, but it funds the degree which is as good as deal as i could hope for (esp cause my program will probably take up to three years). i just really really wish i had something to do in the meantime over the summer; i hate sitting around without something to Do, and i'm bad at motivating myself to do stuff, and i hate the fact that i'm not able to contribute significantly to my own expenses yet. (of course i've extremely grateful to have a support system willing to help me while i'm at this point in my life, but i do WANT to be able to support myself at least in part by now.) but considering the fact that it's already mid june (and i'm out of the country for a week pretty soon), even if there were seasonal positions still available around me no one is realistically gonna hire me for only two months of work. i think i'm pretty much fucked on that account and i just have to get over it at this point. still, it would be nice if even a fraction of the jobs i've applied to so far would even message me back...but almost none of them have. sigh!

[str4wb3rry-fire]

new dream job just dropped: magician's assistant

[neptunesenceladus]

thinking about Themes and Motifs and how Tone can be conveyed through the layout of the page

[roseband]

oof i just realized since i have a newer phone now and outlook app works on it, not only can i work on teams off my wrist, but i can do EMAILS off my wrist

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION HAVE ISSUED AN APOLOGY AND A RE-INVITATION. HERE IS MY STATEMENT

hello buckaroos. the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION have issued a formal statement and apology which you can read at the attached link.

while i find the language used to discuss what was done a little unsatisfying, i would like to start by saying i appreciate anyone taking steps to prove love is real and make things right. the genuine feeling of ‘realizing you have made a mistake and hurt someone else’ is a terrible one, and i have so much empathy for this group as they reckon with their choices causing harm. i appreciate their apology.

i also think more good than bad has come from this situation. i am so thankful this happened to me (someone with a large social media presence) and not a smaller buckaroo author without the means to stand up for themselves. i think the next time someone comes to the TXLA with an accommodation need, they will hopefully be taken more seriously

lets trot down to business about specifics now. the TXLA has re-invited chuck to the original panel and even offered to take a moment at the top of the panel to talk about what happened. this is very kind of them and i will say THANK YOU. 

unfortunately i will also have to decline.

the fact that it took this much effort, social media backlash, and discussion to let me simply EXIST PHYSICALLY in a way that is authentic to myself is not a good sign. if this organization immediately questions an authors chosen presentation in this manner, i cannot imagine what my other accommodations would be met with.

sometimes i am at an event and i very quickly need extra space to breathe. sometimes i am at an event and i need special guides to help me along from place to place. these are not ‘big asks’ and every other conference has gladly provided them, but if the TXLA had this kind of initial reaction to my physical appearance, i cannot imagine them readily helping with my other needs without ‘proof’.

this is clearly not a safe place to trot for those who require additional accommodations. regardless of any apology, their ACTIONS have shown that people who appear unusual or unique are not welcome at this event on a subconscious level. i believe the TXLA have some serious inner work to do beyond this apology, and i believe this inner work will involve actions more than words.

but even more importantly i would like to make this very important point: IT DOES NOT MATTER IF MY MASK IS A DISABILITY AID OR NOT. i appreciate the way this discussion has allowed us to trot out some deep talks on autism and proved love in this way, but i think there is a much more important point at hand.

regardless of WHAT someone looks like, it is not the job of an event or conference to pick apart WHY. physical presentation can be a part of someones neurodivergence, or gender, or sexuality, but i can also just exist as a nebulous undefined part of their inner self. it can be a piece they are not ready to openly discuss yet. the guests at TXLA are authors (aka ARTISTS) and the idea that a conference dedicated to an ART is going to deny people with unique and unusual presentations for ANY reason is absurd. since when are we applying a ‘dress code’ to our artists?

without knowing it, i personally believe there is an element of the ‘good queer, bad queer’ phenomenon going on here. there is a push to say ‘LOOK we accept these marginalized groups and cultures’ but behind the scenes that means ‘we accept these marginalized groups and cultures who are quiet and speak in turn and wear the metaphorical suit and tie’. it is easy to show diversity when you only take on the voices that arent too ‘strange’.

to prove my point i ask you this: do you think orville peck would have FOR ONE SECOND been asked to perform at the texas library association event without his mask?

so with that i say ‘very sincerely, thank you, but i will have to decline the re-invitation. maybe next year’

[colleendoran]

How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

[nina-ya]

Digital Temptations

Synopsis: You and Zoro are roommates with opposite schedules. You spend your alone time in the apartment streaming on a camgirl site to make some extra cash. One day Zoro finds out about your little secret and can't help but indulge. CW: AFAB reader, use of sex toys, masturbation (reader and Zoro), fingering, oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampie i think I covered it all let me know if i missed anything! WC: 5.6k Tagging: @tetzoro @eelnoise @sleepymarimo @faglegsanji and thank you @uminozerol and @nc-vb for helping me beta this!!

Living with Zoro was a perfect arrangement, mostly because you and him had nearly completely opposite schedules. You worked in the evening, your job only allowing you to take shifts in the evening, while Zoro was a teacher at a martial arts academy during the day. This setup meant that the apartment was empty and quiet most of the time, and both of you had the time and space to do whatever you guys wanted. 

You often crossed paths, though. Sometimes he would come home early and you two would eat dinner together before you headed off for work, or if either of you had some down time, you might lounge on the couch together watching movies and just enjoying each other's company. These fleeting moments were cherished, each filled with easy conversation. You knew each other very well despite not spending a lot of time together. 

During the day, while Zoro was out instructing at the dojo, you found your own way of earning some extra cash. As a camgirl, you had developed a following online. The time alone in the apartment was perfect for you to stream without any interruptions. 

You had a routine: Zoro would leave for work, and you would transform into your online personality– something only the viewers behind the screen got to see.

As soon as Zoro was out the door, you would set up your space. You’d pull out your camera and lights, setting them up to capture every angle of your body perfectly. You’d lay out your favorite lingerie, picking the ones that had your viewers tossing their money at you. Today, you chose a sheer black lace set that left little to the imagination. 

After changing, you’d apply your makeup, much more dramatic than you would ever wear out in public since the harsh lighting washed you out. You’d do your hair in the chosen hairstyle of the day, finalizing your look for your viewers. 

Your laptop, propped on the edge of your bed, was already open and waiting. You’d log onto your account, checking your messages and comments left on your last stream. There were always requests, some more explicit with others. You were more than happy to oblige, especially when the requests were paired with the promise of payment.

Once everything was ready, you’d start the stream and watch as the viewer count began to climb. The chat would explode with greetings and compliments, your regulars eagerly awaiting the show. You would always start with some teasing, running your hands over your body, adjusting and playing with the lingerie to give them some glimpses of the skin underneath. As the show progressed, you would spread your legs for the camera, letting them see everything as you slid the vibrator inside of you. You’d often fulfill specific requests. One regular loved watching you bounced on a dildo in nothing but thigh high socks. Another preferred when you brought out the restraints, binding your wrists and pretending to struggle as you performed various acts. You’d oblige in them all, watching as dollar after dollar came through just for you.

To Zoro, you were nothing but his roommate who worked late nights. Little did he know, while he was teaching martial arts, you were on your bed, legs spread wide, putting on a show for hundreds of strangers. 

Zoro had his own way of unwinding after a long day at the dojo. He loved teaching martial arts to the students, but he needed to release his tension. While you were out in his evening classes, Zoro found his relief in the corners of the internet. Camgirl sites have become a guilty pleasure of his; a way to indulge in fantasies and relieve stress.

He had his favorites– girls who knew how to work the camera, who could tease and please in ways that left him breathless. One evening, he grew tired of the same routine. The live streams felt repetitive, and he found himself scrolling through the archives of past streams, hoping to find something different.

That's when he saw it. A thumbnail that caught his eye. The person in the image looked familiar. Too familiar. He clicked on the video, a sinking feeling in his gut as he let his curiosity get the best of him. The video loaded, and there you were, staring back at him from the screen, dressed in an outfit that allowed him to see way more of you than he ever has. 

For a moment, Zoro froze,conflicted. Should he be watching this? Was it wrong to invade your privacy like this? But his curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t watch the video at first, closing the browser and trying to push the image out of his mind. But as the days went on, he could not stop thinking about it. He could not make eye contact with you around the apartment without flashbacks to the few seconds of the video that he saw, knowing that he accidentally discovered your secret.

He eventually gave in. He found himself back on the website, clicking on the video again, his heart beating hard in his chest. He watched as you teased the audience, your hands running over your body, the chat exploding with comments. It was so surreal seeing you like this. This version of you is so much different from the person he knew. 

The more he watched, the more aroused he felt. He couldn’t help it. His hands moved to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping inside to grasp his growing erection. He freed himself, his cock already hard from the sight of you on the screen. His strokes started slow, matching the pace of your movements, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you slide the vibrator over your most sensitive spots. 

Zoro’s hand moved faster as you spread your legs for the camera, the sight of you pleasuring yourself driving him mad. He imagined what it would be like to be there with you, to touch you, to feel what it’s like to be inside of you. His strokes grew more urgent, grip tightening around his shaft. 

He then watched as you pulled out a dildo, sliding the toy inside of you, watching as your face contorted with pleasure, and listening to each and every one of those pretty moans of yours. His hand pumped faster, his hips bucking into his fist. His gaze was locked onto the screen as you brought yourself to your orgasm, watching as your body shook as you clenched around the toy--the faces you made, the sounds you produced, the way you looked; it was all music to his ears. The sight of you so lost in ecstasy pushed him over the edge and a low groan escaped his lips as he came, his cum spilling over his hand. He continued to stroke himself, milking every last drop, his eyes never leaving the screen. He was left trembling, his chest heaving with each breath. 

He closed the video, feeling a mix of guilt and satisfaction. Watching you had awakened something in him, something he couldn’t ignore. He knew how wrong this was, but he couldn’t help himself. You were his roomate, his friend, but now you are the star of his fantasies.

Zoro couldn’t get you out of his head. It’s as if a switch had been flipped inside of him, one that he could not turn off no matter how hard he tried. Each day after that first video, he found himself sneaking back to a site, searching for more of your past streams. It became a nightly ritual: you would leave for your evening classes, and Zoro would settle into his room, laptop open, itching to find the next video of you. 

The guilt gnawed at him, but the pleasure he derived from watching you overpowered it. Each and every video was a deeper dive into you. He watched as you used different toys, different positions, each one driving him crazier than the last. He studied every detail of your body, memorized the sounds you made, the ways your body would react to certain stimulations. 

It wasn’t long before he built a habit. Every evening, without fail, he would find himself with his hand wrapped around his cock, gaze glued to the screen as you performed. He’d fuck his fist to the sight of you every night, and each orgasm was even more intense than the last. 

The guilt became harder to bear in person. During those rare moments when your schedules overlapped, Zoro found it difficult to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t shake the image of you on screen, the sounds of your pleasure bouncing in his mind. When you would sit across from him at dinner, chatting about your day, he would nod along, but his mind would drift back to the videos, to the things he had seen you do.

He began to watch you more closely around the apartment, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. When you’d bend over to grab something from the fridge, his eyes would trail down to your ass, imagining lifting your skirt and taking you right there. If you were doing laundry, he found himself fantasizing about bending you over the washing machine, your moans and cries muffled by the sound of the spin cycle. Even mundane tasks like washing dishes became erotic in his mind; he’d imagine coming up behind you, pressing himself against you as he tore your clothes off. 

The fantasies were constant, and he couldn’t escape them. Each time he looked at you, the scenes that played out in his mind were vivid and intense. He was drowning in his desire for you.

As fate would have it, one afternoon, Zoro came home quite early from work, an unexpected event that gave him the afternoon free. You were surprised to see him walk through the door, but you both fell into your usual comradery, sharing lunch together and chatting. The tension that had been building in his mind was ever so present, but he had to push it aside in your company. 

As the afternoon wore on, you glanced at the clock and realized you needed to start your stream soon. The realization that Zoro would be home while you streamed had anxiety bubbling up within you. But you couldn’t cancel, your viewers had come to expect your regular appearances, and you didn’t want to disappoint them. You scurried off to your room and quickly put yourself together.

A sense of nervousness filled your gut as you set up the streaming equipment. The thought of Zoro being able to possibly hear you made your mind race a million thoughts a minute, but you just had to stick to your schedule. 

You flicked the ring light on, and then turned on the camera. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your heart. You greeted your viewers with the usual smile. 

“Hey everyone. Ready for another fun night?” you whispered.

The usual routine started, slowly undressing and teasing yourself. Nothing much has changed other than your lack of vocalizing. Any moans that escaped your lips were soft, barely able to be picked up by the microphone, and you often bit your lip to prevent any other noises from escaping. As you slid a dildo inside of you, your breath hitched, and you almost whined out, but stopped when you remembered that Zoro could be listening.

A comment popped up on the screen: “why are you so quiet tonight?”

You stared at the comment, and your eyes then flickered at the wall that separated you from Zoro’s room. “My roommate is home tonight,” you muttered. “I have to be quiet.”

Another comment: “Does he know what you do?” 

You shook your head, softly laughing. “No, he has no idea,” you whispered.

As you continued to fuck yourself with the dildo, you couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. The toy felt so good inside of you, but you just had to keep it down. You moved slowly, savoring every inch, every ridge, every vein as it slid in and out of you, your eyes fluttering shut as you concentrated on keeping your voice low.

“I bet your roommate would love to see this,” another viewer commented. You almost paused your movements, caught off guard by the thought of Zoro watching you like this, but you played into the idea, since other viewers seemed to be goading you on to talk about your roommate more.

Unbeknownst to you, Zoro was on the other side of the wall doing just that: watching you. He had the live stream opened on his laptop, headphones in his ears, as he watched you. He was rock hard, eyes blown with arousal, watching you as you fuck yourself, the knowledge that you were on the other side of the wall driving him mad.

He couldn’t help but palm himself through his pants, breath catching in his throat as he watched you. His thoughts were interrupted by your next words.

“You know, my roommate, he’s quite the built man,” you started. “He’s probably bigger than this old piece of silicone.” He watched as you moved the dildo deeper, the stretch making you gasp softly. Your hips bucked against it, and you had to bite your lip even harder to keep quiet. “He’d probably fuck me like this,” you nearly moaned out to the audience, your eyes half-lidded with lust. “Slow at first, then much, much harder… until I can’t help but cum all over his cock.”

With his free hand, Zoro couldn’t help but give in and start typing out “Tell us more about this roommate of yours.”

Your eyes scanned over the comment, “He’s strong,” you whispered, sliding the dildo in deeper. “I bet he’d pin me down and fuck me hard, just like this,” you emphasized your words by diving the dildo rougher into your cunt, using your free hand to cover your mouth to muffle any moans that escaped.

This sent Zoro’s hands flying to unbutton his pants. He freed himself, his hand wrapping around his throbbing cock as he watched you. The thought of you imagining him while fucking yourself was almost too much, and he stroked himself in time with your movements, his gaze never tearing from the screen. 

“He’d probably take control,” you continued, your voice in a trembling whisper. “He wouldn’t hold back, would make sure I feel every inch of him. I bet he’d love to watch me fall apart, love seeing how desperate I would get for him.”

Zoros hand moved faster along his length, the sight of you fucking yourself while fantasizing about him was making his head spin. His fingers flew over the keyboard again, typing out “bet you would look good wearing nothing but his red and white striped button up.”

Your eyes glanced over the comment, and you breathlessly laughed, “Yeah, maybe I should wear that striped…” your movements slowed down, and your breathing slowed down as a look of confusion crossed your face. Then, with no warning, you pulled the dildo out of you and launched over to your computer to stop the stream. 

Fuck.

You had realized that the commenter in question was Zoro. That comment about the striped shirt was too specific. Who else in the world would know that information but him?. You grabbed a large t-shirt and tossed it over your head, barely covering yourself as you stormed out of your room and down the hall to his.

You barged into Zoro’s room without knocking, catching him frantically trying to adjust his pants. His laptop was still open, the streaming website on full display. 

“Zoro!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of anger and embarrassment. 

He looked at you, eyes wide with panic. “I- uh…” he trailed off, unable to find any words that could save him.

“You were watching me!” you accused, your chest heaving with emotions. “How long have you been watching?”

Zoro’s mouth opened and closed, his usual composure having shattered. “I found one of your old streams on the website, and, well…” he trailed off again, face flushed with embarrassment.

“You’ve been getting off to me,” you said, more a statement than a question. “This whole time.”

Zoro swallowed hard, nodding slightly, eyes darting to the ground. “Yeah…”

You couldn’t deny all of the times that you had fantasized about him, either. He was your muse, and the thought of him fucking you was what got you off every stream. Being faced with your fantasy, knowing that he also had the same fantasy, you didn’t know how to go on. You couldn’t pick whether to be angry at him or to pounce on him. The arousal eventually won. 

“I don’t know, I... I just couldn’t help myself,” Zoro stammered out.

“But you just couldn’t resist getting off to your roommate,” you stated. Zoro’s gaze met yours, slight confusion evident as he realized how calm you were about this.

You took a step forward, and with your voice lowered, “You couldn’t resist getting off to me.” 

Zoro was silent, watching as you stepped forward, stopping in front of him and locking eyes. Silence stretched between the two of you as you thought of what to say. Then, your mouth opened; you took in a breath,  hesitating before asking, “So… which part did you like best?”

This question caught him off guard. He looked at you with slight shock and he stammered, trying to figure out how to respond. “The… the part where you talked about me.” he finally stated. 

Despite all of the shock, all of the anger, you could not deny the arousal simmering beneath the surface. “Well, let’s take a few steps back before we reach that part,” you said as you played with the hem of the shirt.

His gaze followed your movements, watching as your fingers played with the fabric. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone a mixture of arousal and confusion.

“You’ve been watching me,” you said, taking another step closer to him, your voice lowering to a sultry whisper. “Now, it’s your turn to show me.

The combination of the tone of your voice and your words caused a flush to spread across Zoro’s cheeks. “Show you… what?” he asked, though he had a pretty good idea of what you meant.

You took his hand and guided it to the bottom of your t-shirt, encouraging him to lift it up. “Show me what you’ve been doing while watching me,” you murmered.

His hands trembled slightly as he raised the material, exposing your bare skin underneath. He let out a shaky breath,his eyes swirling with desire as they raked across your body. “You want me to…?”  You cut him off with a nod. 

“Yes,” you whispered, leaning back to sit on the bed. “I want to see you.”

His eyes darkened as his hands flew to unbutton his pants once more. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, in search of any sign of hesitation or uncertainty from you. But all he saw was the same arousal and yaerning that mirrored his own.

With a deep breath, he dropped his pants down to his ankles, freeing his throbbing erection. You couldn’t help but gasp softly at the sight, your eyes widening in appreciation of him. “Zoro…” you breathed out, reaching to touch him. 

He shuddered at the contact, his hips bucking involuntarily into your hand. “I want to see you touch yourself,” you told him, your voice laced with anticipation. “Just like you did when you were watching me.” You shifted to lay back on the bed, bare body on display for him to gawk at.

Zoro’s breath hitched as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his strokes slow at first. His eyes never left your body. “Like this?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your own arousal growing by the second. “Yes. Just like that”

His strokes grew faster, breath coming out in ragged gasps as he looked at you. The sight of him pleasuring himself, knowing that he had been doing this while watching you, was almost too much to bear. Your own hand moved to your dripping core, your fingers dipping into your wetness as you plunged them in and out, mirroring his own movements.

“Fuck,” Zoro groaned, his eyes glazing over with lust as he watched you. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, your fingers working faster as you moved to rub your clit. “Zoro,” you whimpered, the sound of his name on your lips almost sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, he reached out and hoisted you up, pulling you against him, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. The feeling of his body against yours, his cock pressing against your thigh, it was intoxicating. You kissed him back with equal energy, your hands quickly moving to take off his shirt. 

Zoro’s shirt hit the floor with a soft thud, and your hands immediately started roaming over his chest and abs, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingers. His mouth trailed from your lips to your neck, planting hot, opened-mouthed kisses along your throat.

You slid down his body, hands tracing trailing along his abdomen until you were on your knees before him. Your eyes locked with his as you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving a few, slow strokes. His breath caught in his throat and he let out a low groan as he watched you.

You leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the tip before taking him into your mouth. You could feel his body rumble as he let out a groan, his hands threading through your hair as you started to take more of him, your tongue swirling against his length,

Your free hand moved between your legs, fingers slipping past your folds as you started to rub your clit as you sucked him off.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder as you moved up and down his shaft, your hand pumping what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. “Fuck, that’s so good,” you heard him groan above you. “Keep going, just like that.”

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You needed him desperately, evidenced by the way your wetness was building up to the point that it started to drip onto the ground below you. The sight of you on your knees for him, taking him deep into your mouth as you pleasured yourself, was a sight to behold.

But he wanted more. More than just your mouth. He wanted to be inside of you, to feel you squeezing around him. He pulled you by the hair off his cock, chest heaving as he tried to hold onto some semblance of control. “Come here,” he murmured, voice laced with desire as he lifted you onto your feet. He pushed you backwards until you landed on the plush bed, your body bouncing slightly on the mattress. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on top of you, his lips crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. His hands were everywhere, rough and greedy, exploring every inch of you. When his fingers found your dripping core, he didn’t waste any time, plunging a finger deep inside of you. You gasped against his mouth, your hips jerking up to meet his hand. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered against your lips. You could feel his smirk against your mouth as he added a second finger, thrusting them in and out, a squelching sound filling the air from the motions. You cried out when he curled his fingers to hit that perfect spot, back arching off the bed in your pleasure.

“Zoro,” you whimpered, your hands grabbing at his shoulders as he finger-fucked you mercilessly. 

He watched as your jaw went slack as he added a third finger, stretching you wide. The feeling of his fingers dragging in and out of your gummy walls was overwhelming; you could feel that familiar coil tightening in you as he hammered that one spot that had you seeing stars. You were so close, right at the edge-- 

“Not yet,” Zoro commanded. His movements stopped and he pulled his fingers out of you, a string of your slick still connecting you to his fingers. You whined out at the feeling of him leaving you achingly empty. “Just a bit longer. I want you to cum on my cock.”  He brought his fingers to his lips, licking your slick off of his fingers. The sight alone made you clench around nothing, aching for his touch.

“Turn over,” he growled. You complied embarrassingly fast, rolling onto your stomach and lifting your hips for him.

His hands gripped your ass, kneading the skin before he positioned himself behind you. You felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance, and you couldn’t help but push back against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” he mocked, his voice dripping with amusement at your actions. He grabbed your hips and, without warning, thrust into you, burying himself into the hilt with one swift motion. You cried out, the sensation of his thick cock stretching you completely.

Zoro groaned above you, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he began to move. He started slow; you could feel every ridge, every vein, every detail of him as he pulled out almost entirely before slamming back into you. 

The room soon filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your combined sounds of pleasure. You could feel that coil tightening again, the familiar pressure building within you as he fucked you sensless. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

With that, your hand snaked down between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight, desperate circles. You whined out, burying your head into the mattress below you, profanities and pleas spilling from your lips.

Zoro’s hand combed through your hair, tugging hard and pulling your head off the mattress. “What was that? Hmm?” he growled. 

You cried out, your head arching back. “Zoro,” you whimpered, voice strained and filled with need. “Oh god, you’re so fucking deep. K-keep going!”

You heard him chuckle behind you “I bet your viewers would love to see this.” he murmured, pausing momentarily as a groan escaped him. “Bent over, getting fucked sensless, begging for more.”

The thought made you clench around him, your walls tightening around his cock in response to his words. “Oh, you like the idea of that, don’t you?” Zoro taunted. He pulled all the way out, pausing momentarily before slamming right back in, making you gasp and cry out. “You love the idea of them seeing you like this, don’t you? Bent over and fucked until the only word you know is my name?”

You could only moan in response, your fingers working frantically on your sensitive bud as he pounded into you. “Y-yes,” you managed to stammer out, admitting to liking the idea. 

“Good,” he growled, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. “Maybe one day we can show them that roommate of yours you were moaning about.” He chuckled, amused by just how easily he’d turned you into a mess.

You whimpered, body trembling as you tried to hold back your orgasm. Zoro’s hand left your hair, trailing down your back until he reached your ass, grabbing it tightly before giving it a harsh smack. “Keep talking,” he commanded. “I like it when you beg.”

“Please,” you cried out, your voice  whiny and desperate. “Please, Zoro, l-let me cum. I need to.”

He chuckled lowly. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Hold it just a little longer for me.”

You sobbed in frustration, your body shaking as you tried to hold back. “Ngh~ I can’t,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Please, Zoro, it hurts-- I can’t hold it.”

“Yes, you can,” he snarled, his hips slamming into you with a bruising force. His hands slid up your sides and he firmly grabbed your waist, hoisting you up until your back was flush against his chest. One of his hands was firm around your waist, and one hand on your chest, squeezing one of your breasts tightly. "Keep holding it for me; you're almost there"

You were overwhelmed, so, so close to euphoria. “Please, Zoro,” you whimpered out,a desperate plea. “I need to cum. I need it so bad.” 

He bit down on your shoulder, pulling a gasp from your lips as he groaned into the skin underneath, the sound vibrating against you. “Fine,” he finally relented, “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.”

This permission was all you needed. With a scream, your orgasm crashed over you, your body quivering as your walls clamped around him. The intensity of the pleasure was nothing like you’ve ever felt before; it left you seeing stars. 

“Oh, fuck,” Zoro groaned, his thrusts speeding up and becoming more erratic as he chased his own orgasm. The feeling of your hole squeezing him so tightly was the last push he needed before he was pushed over the edge. His hips stilled against you and he came, his seed painting your walls and groaning your name. His hips bucked a few more times as he emptied himself inside of you, holding your limp and spent body close against him, his body still shuddering from his orgasm.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sounds of your heaving breaths. Zoro finally let go of you, letting you collapse onto the bed. He pulled out of you slowly, his softening dick connecting to you with a string of your shared fluids until it snapped. He collapsed beside you, panting as he tried to catch his breath. 

He pulled you against him, murmuring, “That was much better than I imagined.” He let out a breathless chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest as you lay there tangled in each other's limbs.

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction and intimacy that was far beyond what you had ever felt during your streams. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed, your voice soft.

For a few moments, you both lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow. Zoro’s hand gently traced patterns in your side, his calloused fingertips leaving goosebumps in their trail. “Do you think,” you started, your voice hesitant, “that this will change things between us?”

Zoros paused to think, his fingers stilling. “I believe it already has,” he answered. “But I like you, and I think you like me, too. We can figure out the rest together.”

You took in his words and nodded. “Yeah… I suppose we can.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.” With that, he sat up, and offered a hand to you. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

You tried to join him, but your body protested, a dull ache spreading through your muscles. You groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “I’m too sore to move,” you whined out. 

Zoro chuckled, shaking his head at you. “You're hopeless,” he teased. Without another word, he scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you into his arms in a bridal carry.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his chest. “Show off,” you murmured playfully. 

He carried you to the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly filling the air as he’d turned on the shower. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” he repeated, stepping into the shower with you. He carefully set you down, still holding you up as you struggled to find your balance with your newfound sore legs.

You looked up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You know, I could get used to this kind of treatment,” you said, your voice teasing.

He smirked, his hand moving to grab the soap to begin gently washing your body. “Oh, I’m sure you could,” he replied. “But I think I deserve something in return.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious at his words. “Oh? And what would that be?”

His hands ran across your body, lathering you up with the soap, before they landed on your chest to give it a squeeze. “How about I get some more of you?” he suggested. 

You glanced down and you could see him hardening again at the proposition, and you couldn’t help but give in. “Are you really up for more?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips. 

Zoro leaned in, his own brushing against yours as his hands continued to squeeze you. “I’m not the one who can barely walk right now,” he reminded you.

You giggled at his words, and he silenced you with a kiss, slipping his tongue in as he pressed you against the shower wall. “I guess we’ll just have to find out,” you whispered back, ready for whatever he had in store for the two of you.

[lev1hei1chou]

Makeup Artists

Gojo x reader, Nanami x reader and Toji x reader (individual) Genre: fluff, comedy idk Words: 1.1k Synopsis: The trio attempt to do your makeup Masterlist

Life with the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer was always an adventure. Today, however, was a different kind of adventure – Gojo had insisted on doing your makeup.

"You know, babe, I'm not sure about this," you chuckled nervously as you sat in front of the vanity mirror, Gojo rummaging through your makeup bag like a kid in a candy store.

"Don't worry, it's just a little fun. I'm practically a pro at everything, including makeup," he grinned confidently, while examining a tube of lipstick.

"You're a pro at everything, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course! Now close your eyes and trust me," Gojo said with a wink, and you complied, suppressing a laugh.

He started with foundation, and surprisingly, he wasn't doing a bad job. His fingers moved with surprising precision, blending the makeup perfectly into your skin. You couldn't help but admit that his touch was gentle, even though his usual antics were far from it.

"See, I told you I'm great at this," he gloated, admiring his handiwork.

"Yeah, yeah. But the real challenge is the eyeshadow," you challenged, handing him a palette.

Gojo eyed the colors, looking as if he was about to perform a complex Jujutsu technique. After a moment of contemplation, he dipped the brush into a shimmery gold shade and carefully applied it to your eyelids.

"Looking good so far," you encouraged him, trying not to laugh.

As he continued, Gojo became more engrossed in the process. He even attempted to recreate the infamous blindfold pattern that adorned his eyes on your lids. It was obviously a bold move, but surprisingly, it didn't look half bad.

"Voila! The Gojo touch," he proudly declared, leaning back to admire his masterpiece.

You opened your eyes, examining the finished look in the mirror. Surprisingly, you were impressed. Satoru had managed to create a unique, bold makeup look that somehow suited you.

"You know what? I think I like it," you admitted, giving him a playful smile.

"Of course, you do. I'm Gojo Satoru, after all," he replied, smirking.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you found yourself at home with Kento Nanami, your boyfriend. As you lounged on the couch, an idea popped into your head.

"Kento, do you want to try something fun?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. "Define 'fun.'"

"I was thinking you could do my makeup," you suggested with a teasing smile.

Nanami's stoic expression remained unchanged, but a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. "Makeup?"

"Yeah! Just for fun. I think it'll be interesting," you said, getting up to get your makeup bag.

Nanami sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Fine. But don't blame me if it turns out poorly."

You handed him the makeup bag, and he examined its contents with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. As you sat in front of him, Nanami took a deep breath, preparing himself for this unexpected challenge.

He had battled curses, dealt with demanding people at work but doing someone's makeup? That was a new task.

"Let's start with foundation," you instructed, handing him the bottle.

Nanami carefully applied the foundation, his movements unsurprisingly careful. Despite his initial reluctance, he seemed to be getting into the task. As he continued, you couldn't help but appreciate the focused expression on his face.

"Okay, now for eyeshadow," you said, presenting the palette.

Nanami inspected the colors, selecting a neutral shade. With a gentle touch, he applied it to your eyelids, blending it expertly. You were impressed by his skill and concentration.

"See? I told you I could do it," he smiled, a faint hint of pride in his voice.

As he moved on to the eyeliner and mascara, you couldn't contain your laughter at the sight of Nanami, the serious salaryman, fully engrossed in the art of makeup application. Despite his initial hesitation, he seemed to be enjoying the unexpected bonding experience.

Finally, he finished the look with a subtle lip color. Nanami stepped back to admire his handiwork, and you turned to the mirror, genuinely surprised at the results. The makeup was tasteful, well-blended, and highlighted your features without being overly dramatic.

"You know, Nanami, you might have missed your calling as a makeup artist," you teased, giving him a playful wink.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's not get carried away."

One random day, you found yourself in the company of Toji Fushiguro. As you sat at your vanity, surrounded by an array of makeup products, a thought crossed your mind. One that you probably should have ignored.

"Toji, do you mind doing my makeup for me?" you asked with a playful grin.

Toji glanced at you, a mix of surprise and skepticism on his face. "Makeup? Really?"

"Yeah, just for fun! It'll be interesting to see what you come up with," you replied, handing him a makeup brush.

Toji sighed, but there was a small smirk playing on his lips. "Fine. But if it looks terrible, I'm not to blame."

As Toji dipped the brush into the foundation, you couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the serious expression on his face. He applied the foundation with a level of intensity that was comically out of place for a makeup session.

"Easy, Toji, easy. You're not exorcising a curse," you teased, trying not to burst into laughter.

He shot you a deadpan look before moving on to the eyeshadow. Toji examined the palette, selecting bold and contrasting colors that made you raise an eyebrow. As he applied the vibrant shades to your eyelids, you couldn't help but wonder if he was aiming for a cursed technique-inspired look.

"Uh, Toji, maybe a bit less on the eyeshadow?" you suggested, trying to salvage the situation.

Ignoring your advice, Toji continued with determination, creating a look that could only be described as avant-garde – a unique blend of vibrant hues that clashed in the most spectacular way.

"Now, the eyeliner," he mumbled, holding up the pencil like a seasoned warrior ready for battle.

You winced as Toji attempted to draw precise lines, resulting in a series of squiggles and zigzags that resembled a cursed seal more than a makeup technique.

"Okay, I think that's enough," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

Toji stepped back, admiring his masterpiece with a proud grin. The mirror reflected a chaotic blend of colors and lines that left you in stitches.

"Toji, I appreciate the effort, but I might need a little touch-up here," you chuckled, reaching for a makeup wipe.

He shrugged, an amused glint in his eyes. "I tried my best."

He really did attempt to navigate the world of makeup with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.

[danieyells]

hi there,

thank you so much for all the voicelines you post !! if it’s okay, can i request subaru’s ?

thank you again !

You're welcome! At some point I might go back and put in the ones I leave out because they don't appeal to me as much lol but since i always end up posting 99% of them anyway I think it's enough for most people hahaha. It's all of them now! Sorry for the delay.

I WAS GONNA OMIT ONE OR TWO BECAUSE OF SPOILERS but eh i'll just warm for like. extra spoilers. since after doing more code peeking it wasn't the spoiler i thought it was. SUBARU IS A SWEETIE THOUGH. I also read Subaru's chats which were put in the code recently and. Man this guy needs anxiety meds. I have a small guess as to what his stigma is, but we'll learn in a few days anyway.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting. It's wonderful to see you again."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"It looks like there's a notice for you. I'd be happy to go pick it up for you if you've got your hands full. Oh, forgive me if I'm overstepping."

oh no he's anxious about helping--

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I really am so lucky to be surrounded by so many kind people like you."

"I never thought I'd get the chance to enjoy the lifestyle of a student until I came to Darkwick. Every day truly is fulfilling here."

it feels like subaru is like. . .the only one who actually enjoys school life here. . .or who really enjoys being here period lmao. . . .

"You think I'm always smiling? Ha ha, I hear that a lot. It just happens when I'm around all of you."

"I may be the captain, but it's just in name. I think Haku is much better suited for the job than me."

"I've been working since I was four, so people often said I was mature for my age. But the truth is, I've still got a lot to learn."

that makes two characters whose parents have essentially been keeping them from normal life and normal childhood for work reasons since they were four year olds. . . .

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"I tend to just have hot water for breakfast. I know it would be better for me to eat a proper meal, but it's just so much effort."

DO WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH "I NEED THE GHOULS TO EAT PROPER FUCKIN MEALS". . . .

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The campus is so crowded I can never manage to walk in a straight line, so it always takes me longer than I think. Silly, isn't it?"

baby you're hardly the first person i've met with anxiety about crowds. you're fine.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What would I do without Haku's help? Hotarubi would be a mess without him."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I wonder if I should apply early to take out any common artifacts I might need for this mission. I'll ask Haku what he thinks..."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ah!  You surprised me there... I just got back from a small errand. Do you need something?"

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ever since I was a child, the performing arts were my only focus. Maybe that's why people always say my mannerisms are so peculiar. It bothers you too, doesn't it?"

poor boy doesn't know how to act if he isn't acting. . .he doesn't know how to exist off-script. . .no wonder he made a deal with a demon. it's probably the first thing he's ever done for himself.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'd like to go to the cafeteria, but the line is always so long. I feel bad taking time to choose while people are waiting behind me. The bar of entry feels a little high."

i am once again suggesting subaru get anxiety meds. hell go to sinnostra and get some weed, i bet they sell that. i hear it can help.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm just about to go and meet a friend. I hate to inconvenience you like this, but if it's something urgent, could you speak to Haku about it instead?"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What am I going to do? We're supposed to be meeting up in an hour... If I cancel now, they'll hate me..."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whew... I'll walk you back to your house, {PC}. Oh, it's no problem at all, I assure you! I wanted some fresh air anyway."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I have an Anomalous Ecology test coming up. It's such a fascinating subject, I couldn't help but stay up all night studying. Now I'm a little sleep-deprived."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm going to stretch my legs a little. I might not have a show to practice for right now, but I need to keep putting myself through my paces. I'll get rusty otherwise."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm sorry my phone's been making so much noise. I recently downloaded an app by mistake, and it won't stop sending me notifications..."

awww he's also technologically incompetent. . .poor guy was probably raised with such a heavy focus on his career he just. never needed a smartphone. anyone he needed to contact or who needed to contact him was probably always very close by. it sounds like he didn't even properly go to school before going to Darkwick. Somebody please take this boy on a walk. like anywhere. take him to a library. buy him a churro. can sho make churros? this is somebody who's never had any sort of normal social experience and sees how different he is and wishes it weren't the case, unlike Ritsu who assumes everyone else is like him, i think he'd like to have some more Experiences.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"... ...Oh! Hello, {PC}—I didn't even notice you there. My mind was somewhere else."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning! Sorry? My hair's messy? You're right, it's sticking right up at the front... That's embarrassing. I'll fix it right away."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I usually have lunch in the dormitory. I do eat on the terrace with Lyca every now and then, but he seems so busy these days..."

Lyca is one of the members of Obscuary, btw! Seems like he and Subaru are friends.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I didn't take you for a night owl, {PC}. Since you're here, I suppose I'll stay up a little longer. You're sure you're okay? You're not sleepy?"

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Do you visit Sinostra very often, {PC}? I see... Oh, no reason. I was just making conversation. Ha ha."

why do you ask that. . .a certain mafioso captain wouldn't happen to be suspicious of you would he. . .or maybe you owe them money. . .or maybe you used to be part of Sinostra and moved to Hotarubi. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's getting late, {PC}. How about we finish this tomorrow? Thank you for keeping me company all this time."

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to come all the way to my room to wake me up—I'd feel terrible. I do very much appreciate the thought, though."

it's okay buddy jin already makes them do it, one more pit stop won't hurt.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, hello, {PC}. Sorry, I was actually just on my way out. I should be back by evening—do you mind if we speak then?"

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Lyca has seen my message, so why hasn't he responded to it? I hope nothing bad has happened to him..."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Lyca will adapt well to human society, I'm sure of it. I'm so relieved that Darkwick chose to trust him. I can't thank you enough for your help."

he really likes Lyca huh? that is his dog.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Then let me tell you some stories. Legend has it that evil spirits appear once you've told a hundred. Now, what number was I up to..."

BOY IS TRYNA GET YOUR ASS HAUNTED.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I don't want to seem like I'm testing you, I just... I get really anxious sometimes... I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?"

he's the type to ask 'are you sure you love me? are you sure you wanna be with me?' after you get married and move in together and own a house and have two kids with another on the way. he's the hyper anxious 'i'm sorry we disagreed about our favorite colors do you hate me?' friend(affectionate) I wonder though, is he apologizing for seeming like he's testing you because he's using his stigma to see what you've been up to or something. . .? Probably not lol it's more likely he just keeps asking if you like him

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"There is no time like spring. Everyone seems more relaxed this time of year. It's reassuring to see."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I have some sakura mochi. I was just about to prepare some tea to go with it—would you like to join me?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"They have no control over whether they bloom, and yet they get made a spectacle of nonetheless... Oh, sorry—I was talking about the cherry blossoms."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There are many different flowers growing in Hotarubi, but I think the wisteria are my favorites. This is the best time to see them, so you should take a walk around."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Hot today, isn't it? It's always raining in Hotarubi, so it does provide a little escape from the blazing summer sun, but... Ha ha. It is very humid, isn't it?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Summer makes me think of the ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan. The scene where Oiwa becomes hysterical, having realized her her face has been disfigured— incredible."

Yotsuya Kaidan is one of the best known japanese ghost stories! It's extremely violent, so read the summary at your discretion. The scene in question has Oiwa shown her reflection by her sister's boss to see that the cream she was given by a woman who was in love with her husband was actually some sort of poison that instantly scarred her face. She grabs a sword and goes to kill her, only for her to accidentally slit her own throat.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hotarubi House holds regular festivals during the summer months. If you need a yukata to wear, I'd be happy to pick one out for you."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't mind scary stories, but when that biwa in the tea room started playing by itself, it did make me jump a little..."

slight spoiler, although you can probably figure it out from this but. . .Zenji is a ghost. Subaru currently can't actually see him or hear his voice. . .only Haku, the pc, and, perhaps not so oddly, Towa can afair. All of his youtube content doesn't have him or his voice in it because he can't be recorded by cameras. So Subaru doesn't realize that the biwa playing on its own is actually Zenji playing the biwa.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"The air has gotten crisper, and the leaves are changing color. I know it's only natural for the seasons to shift, so why does it make my heart ache so much?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, these? They're some chestnuts I found. I know—I should give them to Sho. I'm sure he'll be able to make something delicious with them."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"That's another kuchikiri tea ceremony under my belt. It's an annual tradition where one cuts open a tea jar to reveal the tea that was preserved from the first harvest."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"On long autumn nights when the moon is shining beautifully in the sky, it's hard to resist taking a walk outside. Don't stay out until too late though, {PC}."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"...Oh, {PC}. Good morning... I had a hard time getting up today. It must be the cold... Ha ha. Not very captain-like, is it?"

Jin, Taiga, and Ed are all prone to not getting out of bed. and Yuri falls asleep on operating tables when he has down time. Trust me Subaru you are perfectly captain-like.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Today, I'm going to order ingredients from one of my favorite stores so we can all make negima—tuna and scallion—hot pot together. Please, do join us."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's cold out today. I was just thinking about lighting the fire. Would you like to come and warm up with me?"

oh subaru you don't even know how that sounds

(between 8pm and 5am)

"People say winter makes you want to snuggle up with someone, but I find that a good blanket does a much better job."

i agree that blankets are much easier to manage than people lol. probably warmer too.

His birthday: (February 20th)

"A present? For me? Thank you... I didn't expect you to do anything for my birthday, so I'm a little caught off guard. I really appreciate it."

Your birthday:

"Um... Happy birthday.  I really hope this year will be a wonderful one for you."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I hope I can depend on your guidance and support again this year."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Chocolate? Oh, It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Does that mean these are for me...?"

nah i just wanted you to look at them. YES THEY ARE FOR YOU BBY. why would you be showing him chocolate if it wasn't for him! On any day, not just valentine's day!!

White Day: (March 13th)

"These are for you, {PC}. I put in a special order for monaka from my favorite confectioner in Ginza. They're wafers filled with bean jam—I hope you like them."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Earlier, Haku told me he was switching houses. It gave me a real shock— I'm very relieved that it wasn't true..."

i bet subaru made the most scared kicked puppy face and started apologizing for being such an awful captain and blamed himself for that haku would go to a different house and haku had to quickly explain it was just a prank for fear that subaru might burst into tears.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Happy Halloween. I know it's nothing special, but I've prepared some treats for the occasion. Oh... But you're more than welcome to play a trick instead."

please don't trick him. april fool's day was hard enough for him.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We already have our New Year decorations up in Hotarubi, so it has a real east-meets-west atmosphere now. I hope everyone is okay with it..."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Everyone seems busy at the moment. Maybe I should use this opportunity to tidy the garden..."

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC}? Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried because you were so quiet..."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"You're back... I'm so relieved. I was worried I'd done something to make you feel uncomfortable..."

this man shakes like a chihuahua 24/7. like you can taste the anxiety coming off of him. i love him. he's so pathetic(affectionate). i wanna squeeze his hand reassuringly and tell him everything's gonna be okay. i wanna hug him and pat his head. i wanna take him places so he learns more about the world outside of working. i wanna watch him do schoolwork excitedly because he's never really gone to school before and it's a new and exciting experience. i want him to experience the most mundane aspects of life with wonder.

good boy. yeah. get him anxiety meds /nodnod

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Barbie Girl 💄 | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of Top Gun Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Barbie!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content warnings: light profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @kayla-swiftly)

Premise: They say the sky is the limit and anything you set you’re mind to will be achieved as long as you’re dedicated to it. For most people that testimony is nothing but a mere fantasy. But for one woman, with too many dreams to count on her fingers, she took that statement to heart. Proving you can be anyone you want to be and maybe even a few others give or take 😉

Note: Anyone else obsessed with Barbie lately?? Omg y’all I saw the movie last week and absolutely fell in love and i had this request from around the time the final trailer dropped and knew it was the perfect time to write this. I know I know I haven’t been living up to my promise of being consistent but man they having me working my ass off at my job. Also I’ve been traveling and I saw Big Time Rush last night (i felt like a teenager again and it was amazing 😭) anyway I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think!

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“Hi, Barbie!” The familiar greeting fills Y/n’s ears as it does every morning she arrives at the hangar. With it comes an instant smile, hand raising to wave at the person responsible for it, “Hi, Phoenix!”

“Hey there, Barbie,” winks another friendly face.

“Hiiii, Hangman,” her tone is playful like his, turning energetic for Bob when he goes, “Hiya, Barbie!”

“Hi there, Bob!”

“Hey, Barbie.” “Good morning, Barbie.” “What’s up, Barbie Girl.”

“Hello, Rooster.” “Good morning to you too, Fanboy.” “Nothing much, Pay. And yourself?”

Unlike her fellow pilots, clad in their deep green flight suits, Y/n stood out in the crowd for hers was a little unorthodox when one thinks of a naval fighter pilot's uniform.

It was pink. Completely as in her combat boots were also the bright color and the patchers were white and pink tones rather than red, blues, black and any other color seen in the ones attached to her coworkers arms. ‘Barbie’ in pink cursive writing instead of traditional bold Times New Roman lettering.

And don’t forget the little flower dotting the ‘i’.

Growing up, Y/n took ‘you can be anyone and anything you want to be,’ quite literally. At no point was it a joke to her when she would tell her friends and family, “oh I’m gonna be a fashion designer and Olympic Gold medalist when I’m older,” “I wanna go to space, fly in planes, and see all the wonders of the world,” “I’ll be a doctor, a teacher, and movie star!” They’d smile and laugh, thinking it was adorable for a little girl to dream big. No way would it be possible to achieve all of those careers. Everyone only gets one life to live and time goes so fast one can only set their eyes on one path and hope for the best.

But Y/n was a dreamer. And if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.

All through middle and high school people took Y/n’s intelligence for granted. Focusing more on her beauty rather than brains, it came as an under shock to everyone when Y/n had the credits to graduate at the ripe age of 15. Exceeding in her standardized test scores with a high school resume taking up three pages with extracurricular and academic achievements, she had colleges from all over the country begging for her to apply.

Stanford. Cornell. Pratt. Juilliard. NYU. John Hopkins. Harvard. UCLA. Duke. Top medical and law schools. Ivy League universities. Performing Arts schools calling for auditions after sending scouts to watch her perform in school plays and dance recitals. Coaches from high ranking NCAA gymnastics teams sending emails after emails.

So many to choose from….And so the story of Y/n L/n becoming a real life Barbie Doll begins.

Setting her eyes in New York, Y/n attended not one but two of the best schools in the country. While obtaining her bachelor’s in both astronautical and aeronautical engineering at NYU Y/n also completed a two year degree in Fashion Business Management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. During this time she continued training for the Olympics in hopes of making the 2008 Beijing team in gymnastics.

“How do you do it?” Her roommate at NYU constantly asked. “You go from here to FIT, working on two degrees that are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum and career paths,” she emphasized with hand expressions, “and still have enough to time to go to the gym to practice, eat three meals a day, have all your assignments done early, and sleep a reasonably about of hours each night.” Letting out an exhale, her roommate looks at Y/n as if she’s an alien from another world, “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of Barbie doll the government created as a test robot?”

Each time Y/n would pause, think for a moment before smiling, “I don’t know if I should find that as an insult or compliment, but I’m gonna chose it as a compliment and say it’s because I want to live a life where I can look back on and go, ‘I took a risk and tried something new even if it didn’t look possible but it was all worth it.’”

By the time Y/n turned 20 she had accumulated a vast list of credentials to her name. The list included getting her fashion business degree at 17, Bachelors in astronautical/aeronautical engineering at 19–receiving her Master’s for it at 20–An Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, dancing with the Radio City Rockettes, performing with the NYC Ballet Company in their rendition of Swan Lake, landing a role on Broadway, walking a runway at NY fashion week, and appearing on episodes of SVU, 30 Rock, All My Children, Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty.

So yeah, New York was a success in experiences for Y/n.

Following the high note, she packed her bags to leave the golden apple for the flashing lights of Hollywood, California. This time Y/n was working on her doctorates at USC, running her own business with her fashion degree called ‘Dream Closet’, and auditioning for film and tv shows.

Hollywood was a dream come true just like New York. Again she attended two different schools, this time flight school and USC. During the day she was occupied running from class to the hangar and then the observatory. Coaching dance and gymnastics on the side, designing clothes for her online shop which developed into a pop-up chain store in malls across America.

It wasn’t long until Y/n’s name grew into nationwide popularity. People started realizing the Y/n L/n who won the Gold and Silver medals in the 2008 Olympics was the same one responsible for the most recent fashion trends and guest starring on their favorite tv shows. What really set it in stone was when Y/n landed the role of an engineer officer in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek, going on to appear in both the 2013 and 2016 sequels.

Impressive was the only word her costars could use to describe her. What else was there?

Anytime there was a question involving, “who’s most likely to become president?” “Who’s most likely to try something new or create a new hobby?” “Who’s most likely to win a Nobel Prize?” Along those lines…the answer was obvious.

“Oh Y/n,” Zoe Saldana waves her hand, “Always.”

“Yeah,” Chris Pine agrees with a laugh, “That woman, I-I don’t know how one has the energy to do all that she does—a-and still want to do more.”

The Interviewer laughs with them, “didn’t she just race in the Daytona 500 last year?”

“Yes!! And she did a song with Lady Gaga when they were on American Horror Story,” Zoe’s tone is in absolute awe, “All while teaching at USC and creating new technology at NASA.” Chris lifts a finger.

“Don’t forget she had her own Mac Viva Glam line a couple years ago.” Zoe made a sound along the lines of ‘see what I mean,’.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna be a name in the history books.”

What all has Y/n accomplished career wise? Let’s take a look.

Model, dancer, actor, singer, fashion designer, entrepreneur, athlete, engineer, race car driver, and professor.

And now she can add pilot to the list. Although she got her license to fly way back in 2009, Y/n didn’t put it to use full time until 2016, wanting to wait until after the release of Star Trek: Beyond to say goodbye to Hollywood for the time being and set forth on her next adventure.

Boy did it come as a surprise what she had planned.

The Manila folder containing her resume hit the desk of the Admiral, his eyes wide as saucers. “You wanna join the Navy?” Reading the front page for a fifth time, Cyclone glanced back at the woman in front of him. Doctor Y/n L/n. Or is it professor L/n? “And you wanna be one of my pilots?”

“Yes, Sir.”

”Ma’am, I apologize if this comes off as offending,” he really didn’t know any other way to put it. “But you are more qualified than any person on this base. Doctorates in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the University of Southern California,” he counts off on his fingers, “you recently developed a groundbreaking advancement in space technology that’s going to help our astronauts—on the road to becoming a Nobel Prize nominee.” He raises his eyebrows, “And this is only what relates to this career field. I’m not even mentioning your acting, athletic, and fashion credentials. Why join the Navy?”

Y/n only offers a shrug, “I think the better question is, why not?” Cyclone lets out a sigh.

“What did you say your callsign was again?”

“Barbie.”

There was no stopping the small smile trying to break free, “I should’ve guessed.”

After completing OTS there was much debate on what Y/n’s rank would be coming into the Navy. Civilian lawyers and physicians often are Lieutenants (O-3) right away, but considering Y/n had two doctorate degrees and her pilot license they felt it was only fair for her to come in as Commander (O-5). From there Y/n was sent to North Island to attend Fighter Weapons School.

Better known to its flyers as Top Gun.

Y/n was used to the looks she received on a daily basis. From head to toe she was covered in variations of pink depending on what she was feeling. When teaching her briefcase and pantsuit were baby pink, in the labs her coat was hot pink, at auditions she wore pink leather jackets. Even her race car for the Daytona was pink.

Shoutout to Mac cosmetics for the sponsorship.

So it’s no surprise her flight suit would be the color she was known for—despite it being out of regulations.

Being more qualified than your superiors had its perks.

If she could have a pink F-18 she would but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. That was okay for Y/n. After all, she managed to get her own custom flight suit. One which had everyone having to do double takes whenever she walked into a room.

“Is she wearing…?”

“How the hell did they allow that?”

“Does that mean I can have mine in purple?”

Her first day at Top Gun Y/n met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. They were paired as roommates in the dorms and quickly became good friends. Phoenix was beyond amazed with Y/n’s accomplishments and experiences. Every conversation led to a new discovery. “Do you ever burn out?” Nat stag criss crossed on Y/n’s satin pink bed sheets, admiring her wall of photos from when she traveled to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world. “I feel I’d be a walking corpse from exhaustion. And you mentioned you’re still running and designing clothes for ‘Dream Closet’?”

Y/n removed her diamond studs, placing them on her desk she was using as a vanity. “I have a team dealing with the business side of things for the brand. I’m still CEO and creative director—usually I work on designs for a couple hours before bed to prepare for the next launch.”

Nat was in awe, “I have to ask….what’s been the best career you’ve done so far?” A common question Y/n heard, there was never a true answer. She loved every career. They all had their perks and their flaws, but at the end of the day it left her satisfied she achieved them.

“I don’t know yet,” she spoke truthfully, “I still have a few to check off on my list. When that happens I’ll let you know.”

Fast forwarding to 2019, Y/n answered the phone to Admiral Simpson’s voice with the news she needed to report back to North Island for a highly confidential mission. The details were unknown, but Y/n packed her bags, loaded her pink vintage corvette convertible and high tailed it to sunny San Diego.

The squeals initiated by Y/n and Nat the moment she stepped foot in the Hard Deck had heads whipping in their direction. “Hi, Barbie!” Nat’s arms opened for a hug.

“Hi, Phoenix!” Y/n accepted the embrace, still grinning ear to ear. The guys around them were looking at each other like, ‘what the…?’ Y/n wasn’t in her standard Khakis like they were—minus Rooster. She bore a pink denim number with matching boots with her hair curled and pink eyeliner surrounded by tiny rhinestones.

“You got selected too?” Nat complimented her outfit before cutting straight to the point.

“For the special detachment? Looks like it,” she winked.

“What happened to the Artemis program? Weren’t you up as a candidate?”

“Oh I still am,” Y/n affirmed proudly, “They’ll be announcing who’s to be selected in the coming months. So for now I’m still with the Bounty Hunters. Plus,” she leans in to whisper, “this will look good on my resume.” The two giggle before Y/n drifts her gaze to the boggling gazes in front of her. “Oh! I’m sorry for being so rude. I’m Y/n L/n,” extending her hand to the first person who’s name tag read Fitch, Y/n added, “But you can call me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” the blonde holding a pool cue repeated like a question, “like the toy Barbie?” Nat chuckled, throwing an arm around her friend after she was done shaking everyone’s hand as they introduced themselves.

“Fellas, if there is anyone who is a life sized version of Barbie, it’s this one right here.”

“Now, Phee…” Y/n’s tone was that of, ‘Don’t start.’

“It’s true,” the pilot defended. “Not only is she Commander Y/n ‘Barbie’ L/n,” jaws drop, “but she’s Professor and Doctor L/n.” The jaws hit the floor, “On top of founder, creative director and CEO of ‘Dream’s Closet,’” Javy makes a sound, familiar with the brand, “Emmy nominated actress,” Fanboy chokes on his water, “Olympic Gold Medalist and soon to be astronaut for the Artemis program.” By now all the guys are on the verge of losing their minds.

Bob rapidly blinks, “uh—.”

“Now I’m not an astronaut yet,” Y/n points out, “I’m a candidate for one.” Nat scoffs lightly.

“They’d be stupid not to pick you, Barb,” she then slaps her side, turning back to the guys, “Oh and how could I forget Broadway, Vogue, and the Daytona 500.”

“Daytona 500!?” Payback practically screeches.

“You were on Broadway?”

“—featured on Vogue—?!”

“Wait a minute I recognize you from Star Trek!”

“—How in the hell—.”

“Guys, guys!” Y/n laughs with her hands slightly raised, “Please, one at a time.” They were in for a long night of questions and story times. And just like Nat was years prior when she first roomed with Y/n at Top Gun, the officers were in complete amazement over the woman in front of them. Never had they met anyone like her.

“Wow,” Jake whistled once she finished bringing them up to date on her most recent careers. “You really are a real-life Barbie.”

“Shhhh,” a finger went to her lips, followed by a wink, “don’t tell Mattel.”

And thus the dagger squad was formed. Two and half weeks of hell bearing training preceding a face-with-death mission brings people closer. Every morning Y/n arrived at the hangar to a chorus of “Hi, Barbie.”

She waved at Reuben, “Hi Payback.”

“Hey there, Barbie Girl,” Javy threw her a peace sign.

“Hiya, Coyote!”

“Good morning, Barbie,” Rooster tipped his hat.

“Mornin’, Rooster.”

“Hi, Barbie!” “Hi, Barbie!” Her favorite duo harmonized.

“Hi, Bob! Hi, Phee!”

And for some closer than others….

“You know I was thinking,” Jake commented, taking Y/n’s hand before leading her to the pottery class he signed them up for. Every Friday night was reserved for date night. Dinner and a movie. Walk on the beach. Spending $20 worth of quarters at an arcade. Attending a comedy show. Paint and sip. Following the successful mission, Jake and Y/n hit it off and began seeing each other.

“Famous last words.”

“It’s not bad,” a chuckle left his lips, stopping at the door. “I just thought it was funny. You know how you’re basically Barbie?” His cheeky smile resulted in her mirroring it.

“Yessss.”

“This means I’m pretty much your Ken, right?” The question makes the woman visible ‘awe’. Jake ruffles a hand through his hair and gives his best blue steel, “we kinda look alike. Don’t you think?”

Laughing, Y/n kisses his cheek, “I mean…name a more iconic duo than Barbie and Ken.”

“Barbie and Hangman?”

“Exactly.” It was safe to assume what their Halloween costumes were going to be.

Time went on, missions were run. And after a year of anticipation—though it felt like forever, it was finally announced in 2020 Y/n would be one of the astronauts selected to be part of NASA’s Artemis program launching in 2024.

Making Y/n the first woman to go to the moon.

The call came in from a restricted number when they were in a meeting, and knowing she was to expect a call within the month everyone quickly shut up so the pilot could answer.

She excused herself to leave the room, staying in front of the window so the team could see her. Throughout the conversation Y/n’s expression remained neutral to the point none had a clue whether the news was good or bad. Only when she reentered the room did they get the answer.

“I’m going to the moon!!!”

“Ahhh!!!!” The team exploded in an array of cheers, Y/n jumping up and down, careful not to drop her phone that was in her hands when Jake lifted her in his arms.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Despite being unauthorized to show pda in uniform, Jake gave her a big kiss on the lips, not caring who saw. “You are the most exceptional human being on this planet.”

“Jake,” tears welled in her eyes, which he kissed away. Her heart filled with warmth and gratitude. Feeling on top of the world with her closest friends supporting her.

Once all calmed down and they finished the meeting, Mickey jumped from his seat, “Come on Barbie, let’s go party!” Everyone sped to the Hard Deck to celebrate the news. Mav bought the first round, followed by Payback.

“Guys you don’t have to do all that,” Y/n said once she realized they all agreed to buy her drinks for the night.

“We want to,” Nat tapped her beer with Y/n’s cocktail glass, the guys voicing agreements. “For years you’ve been dreaming about this and it’s finally happening. Your hard work is paying off and we want to celebrate—show you we love and appreciate you, Barbie.”

Y/n fought back tears, never afraid to show her emotions. Some may find it childish or thinned skin, but to Y/n that was what being human was all about. “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” The voices echoed together.

The night had been going well with the squad hanging out by the pool tables like they usually did when Y/n approached the bar to pick up the next round Mickey was paying for. Not paying attention to those beside her, she smiled at Penny and repeated the order before waiting patiently.

But what’s a night at a bar without someone who lacks boundaries.

“You must be the one they call Barbie,” a voice says, flirtation seeping through the words. Glancing to her right, Y/n recognizes a gentleman from the flight line whose name she could not recall. “You’re quite the talk around base. In fact, weren’t you in some Hollywood blockbuster?”

“Yes,” she politely responds, keeping the answer short. Though she was known to be a sweetheart and kindhearted to anyone she met, Y/n could tell where the interaction was heading toward and did not feel comfortable entertaining it any further. “A long time ago.”

“I’m Lieutenant Paul Billings,” he extended his hand, and she immediately clocked he was trying to show off his rank. ‘Boy he’s in for a treat.’

Not wanting to make a scene, she accepts the handshake. “Commander Y/n L/n,” there was emphasis on the Commander, displaying the woman was of higher rank and therefore a silent warning to Billings to not cross a line.

There was a flash of surprise on his face. Y/n held back an amused laugh, ‘guess you didn’t hear everything.’

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he brushes it off, “Nothing. Say,” he nods to the bar, “can I buy you a drink.” Did he not just hear her order a round for the people she came with?

“That’s kind of you,” she starts just as Penny arrives with a try full of cold beers and her usual cocktail. “But I’m all set, thank you.” Hands moving to take the tray, she jumps slightly at the feeling of his own coming to her wrist.

“What about lunch this week?”

“I’m sorry but I am spoken for, Lieutenant,” removing his hold, Y/n takes a step away.

Now Paul had lost his reasonable composure. Scoffing, he says, “What? Am I not enough for you?” The question results in her raising a brow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He makes a face, “You think because you’ve done all these careers and occupations that you’re better than the average person? I’m not a pilot and an actor or researching the cure for cancer while creating a documentary series,” venom seeps through his tone, obviously depicting his jealousy, “Basic is not up to your standards, so you have to throw our failures in our face as if we don’t already know.”

By now a crowd has formed. Jake started moving the second he noticed Billings etching too close to his girl, followed by Nat and the others who were ready to back him up. Behind the bar, Penny was fixing to ring the bell until being stopped by Y/n’s wave of the hand.

“Are you done?”

Paul’s expression was that of, “what?” No audible response was voiced therefore Y/n continued.

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this, Paul,” Y/n drops her shoulder. The change in body language let Jake and her friends know she wasn’t taking anything that the man said personally. “I know I should be offended by your insults and insinuations, but the truth is I’m not.” A small smile forms on her lips, “I don’t view myself higher than anyone because of what I accomplished. The only person I do that to, is myself—because I don’t have to prove to no one but me that I am capable of achieving what I set my mind to. And yeah,” a light chuckle escapes, “I’ve set my mind to a lot of things—way more than the average person. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else can’t do the same.”

Pausing Y/n takes a breath before exhaling, “You look at me, and hate the way it makes you view yourself. Makes you believe you’re a failure because you didn’t follow the path you hoped to make for yourself.” Paul’s expression shifts to one of solemnity, like he was thinking of his younger self who had dreams and aspirations. Mourning what could have been.

It made Y/n sad for him. Empathetic despite him attacking her. “One thing I’ve learned over the years…is time is what you make of it. Life is about taking risks. You can still set out to do whatever it is you wish, as long as you’re committing to taking the risk no matter how scary it is. Sure you’ll find obstacles and it’ll feel like the whole world is against you. But determination will guide you through the walls, and you will be successful so that you can look back and think, ‘it was worth it.’ As cliche as it sounds,” she couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Barbie isn’t a person or an object you can obtain. Barbie is a mindset. And you have to unlock it in your own way, Paul.”

It was so quiet in the building, a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Their looks of awe, admiration, and even newfound motivation by Y/n’s speech. Impressed by how classy she handled what very well could have been a scream match between rival squadrons.

Behind Billings the Dagger squad stood with proud smirks at their friend. Especially Jake, who caught Y/n’s eyes and threw her a wink. Nat gave the woman a salute, a silent gesture to say, ‘you inspire me everyday.’

And Billings? Well he was at a loss for words.

Patting his shoulder, Y/n grabbed the tray of drinks, “I wish you luck, Paul.” Thanking Penny, who gave her a proud nod and replied, “this ones on the house,” Y/n returned to her friends where she was met with a sweet kiss from Jake, claps on the back and “You go girl!” “Tell them who’s boss.” “Damn, you made me wanna go out there and live life the way I should.”

“What’s stopping you, Javy?” she handed him a beer, “the world is your playground.”

A couple hours later it was time to call it a night. Hugs went around, promises to meet up the following night and tabs were closed.

On their way out, Jake dropped a kiss to Y/n forehead, pulling her close to him as he led her to the door of the parking lot, “So what’s next for you, doll? You’ve proved you can be anything and anyone you chose to be,” he grins at her, “What will you set your mind to now after space?”

“First, I want to write a book—I think that’s something a lot have been waiting for me to do. Afterwards, well, I’ll have to wait a couple more years, but,” The corner of Y/n’s lips lift up before flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m thinking….the Oval Office is in need of a makeover. Don’t you think?”

Then, before he could answer, Y/n turns her head in the opposite direction as if she’s trying to find a hidden camera. Makes eye contact with you, the reader, winking before turning back to Jake where she sets off on her next adventure.

…………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

[eli0004]

Ever wondered where the Veterans would take you on a date?

Contains: Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe

Synopsis: brief Headcannons about where the Vets would take you on a date

Warnings: None

Erwin smith? Applebee’s💀

lmfao I’m joking, but the way i see it, Erwin strikes me as the goofy, endearingly cringy, single dad type of guy that really believes Applebee’s is the epitome of fine dining. Thankfully, he listens when Levi tells him to have a little class💀

In all seriousness, I think he’d be the type to take you wine tasting, go to see live music performances at local venues, or browsing a cute little craft market on a crisp spring morning.

He’d clean up nice beforehand, probably wear some jeans and a button up shirt, and this man would smell…so…fucking…good😩 like fresh powdery cologne and spearmint gum. You’d get in his car and he’d already have your favorite coffee order in the cupholder waiting for you. Omg i love him

Levi Ackerman? Tea shops, local bakeries, art museums, bookstores, theater.

Levi has a love for the arts, and anything intellectually stimulating. He likes to take his time getting to know the person he’s interested in, so he wouldn’t want to do any kind of activity he couldn’t talk during. It’s a common headcannon among us Levi lovers that he’s an acts of service kind of guy, so you know he’ll be always observing what kind of pastries you order, what kind of tea you like, or your favorite genre of book.

When Levi takes interest in someone, he doesn’t take them for granted. He’s always perusing, always chasing, always loving, so diligently. Gas will never be an issue, this man will drive you across town and back 4 times if you asked him to. He plans dates ahead of time, and always comes prepared, with a wallet full of cash and a tank full of gas, and If he ends the night empty handed, he’ll call it a job well done.

Hange Zoe? Hikes, smoke sesh on the roof, metaphysical shops, farmers markets, picnics, nature walks, the zoo.

Hange is one of those earthly granola people. They’re 100% vegan, grounded to the world around them, and a huge animal lover, so i love the idea that they’ll want to go on a hike to bird watch or pet some moss. Just imagine how cute it would be, you’re both walking around in a stream in the woods, pant legs hiked up around your calves, looking for pretty colored stones for your collection. The sun is peaking through the tree line and you both smell like sweat and sunscreen and earth. Hange finds a turtle or a small frog and catches it to show you🥹 they make me so soft. They’ll also 100% get sunburnt on their nose and cheeks because they can’t ever remember to apply sunscreen there.

Hange is the type to love taking photos of you on dates, and add them to the photo wall in their apartment. If you go to visit, the two of you will pack a bowl and laugh about the memories you have together as you look over the pictures, some kind of cozy music playing in the background.

[violetasteracademic]

On Being a Published Writer: Without a Degree

This is a bit of a vulnerable share today, and I am writing it after a sleepless night, the monster of anxiety and shame weighing heavily on my chest. However, I have come far in life and undergone an incredible amount of healing, and refuse to be ashamed of my past. I hope sharing this can help even one person like me remember that when it comes to craft, when it comes to art, the only thing stopping you from being worthy is you.

This year, I became a published writer. After years of hard work and dedication to my craft, I finally felt good enough to begin submitting my work to literary magazines. I'm proud of that accomplishment. It's a little tag I get to add to my bio now as I submit work that helps make me feel *valid.* But that quickly, all it takes is for someone to remind me that I did not have access to a degree, that I did not learn from the best, and I will spend the rest of my life without a formal education behind my writing, and they achieve the goal they set out: to make me feel less than for not having their background.

In America, the education system is for profit and public school system inconsistent. There are many factors that can contribute to whether or not a person gets through it successfully, and it often has little to do with intelligence, work ethic, or strength of character and drive before the age of 18.

So here is my story:

I graduated high school with a 2.1 GPA.

My first hospitalization (out of the 17 I would have in my life) for edometriomas happened at age 15. I spent the majority of high school struggling with chronic pain, stage four endometriosis and the accompanying endometriomas cysts, and illness. By age 16, social services was threatened by my school to be called on my home for suspected neglect and abuse. I moved out of my house that year, and was given temporary guardianship by a friends family.

By the end of my senior year, I continued to bounce around between friends houses, sometimes sleeping in my car, and struggled to keep on top of my coursework. I was enrolled in the work study program designed for students who had to keep a job during their high school years, and earned school credits for staying employed.

Despite all of this, I still maintained high grades in Advance Placement literature and language, proceeded to get 5's on my AP tests (a perfect score, and a rare accomplishment) as well as near perfect scores on my ACT's. I spent every spare second reading and writing from the moment I learned how. My intelligence and comprehension were not the issue. My health and my home life were.

The only reason I got into college at all was because I decided to audition for a school play freshman year. Much to my surprise, I was cast in the lead role, and thus the course of my life was set. I poured everything I had into acting, I finally had a purpose and something to keep me out of having to go home after school. Still, applying for colleges was one of the most stressful and shame inducing experiences of my life. I got into many top performance programs in the country, then would not get into the university itself with my GPA. The conservatories that did not look into school performance did not provide the financial assistance required for me to attend.

There was one university that offered limited talent admissions that would allow the university admission requirements to be overlooked for students that had displayed exceptional talent in their specialized field of study. I had to put together a request for the school board, complete with letters from my high school teachers providing context for my low GPA paired with high test scores, character assessments on my likely ability to maintain the minimum required GPA in college, as well as a letter from the head of the performing arts department of the university stating that I was worthy of this talent exception. The wait was unbearable. But I was accepted. And I was approved for the work study program that allowed me to gain employment at the university to help offset the cost.

I felt like my whole life had changed in college. I had gotten in. I had gotten out. I was a new person, no one knowing about my past or the stain of my struggles. I had a fresh start. While I continued to battle my illness throughout college, it was manageable with a consistent bed to sleep in every night, as well as access to physical and mental health services. And although I tested out of being required to take any English classes with AP, I still filled my elective credits with writing classes. Screenwriting, playwriting, poetry, creative writing. Performing became my work, and writing became my joy. I took every class that sounded remotely interesting, often filling my schedule more than required on top of my work and performance load.

I am withholding some of the more personal details of my life, but when I finally moved out to LA, I hit the ground running. I accomplished more in a few years than fellow artists and performers who had been out there for more than a decade. And I valued every person I met. I was in small, independent theatre shows with Juliard grads. I was on professional sets with wildly naturally talented people working to get their GED with no formal education but that undeniable *it* factor. People from all walks of life set out for the Angel City to make it, and I was one of them. I also began writing again, this time short films and audition monologues. I began writing pieces for friends and classmates at their request. I secured my first talent agent with a performance piece that I wrote, along with an offer to renegotiate my contract to include literary representation should I complete a script worth shopping. I began to organize applications for writing fellowships at top studios, when my condition became so severe the only option to move forward with my life was surgery. And then my life completely changed again.

I came out of that surgery with nerve damage that left me unable to walk for six months, as well as developed a new permanent nervous system disorder.

My career and my life never recovered. I was permanently changed. However, during that time, I turned one of my sci-fi short films I had written into a 160k word novel, with outlines for a trilogy. While it was one of the darkest times of my life, writing got me through it. I moved out of Los Angeles to a more affordable city and threw myself into writing. I learned that ivy league schools like Stanford, Harvard, and Yale shared their syllabi for continued study coursework online, including the required textbooks for the courses. Example here. I took myself through the textbooks and coursework of top schools, I took every local workshop possible when it was in budget. Any education on craft that was within my means, I reached for.

I will never be able to change the course of my life. I will likely never be able to go back to school. However, this amazing video by Bandon Sanderson helped me overcome my shame, my lack of access to returning to higher education when my life and career were irrevocably changed: Be Anything But an English Major

I had already done what he had encouraged, pick a subject I was passionate about, fill my college coursework with things I found interesting, and let it inform my writing. While this is not to disrespect or degrade English majors or say successful authors think the degree is worthless, I am simply sharing to say this video helped ME combat against English majors who made me feel worthless for not having access to their diploma.

So to anyone feeling insecure today, you do not need a degree in the arts. Whether you want to be an author, an actor, a painter, a fashion designer, a poet. And I say this as someone whose greatest privilege and joy in life was getting a performing arts degree.

We must continue to prioritize art being accessible, value diverse backgrounds, and wish for it to be open and available to all. We must continue to treat art as subjective, and reject ideals that learning from a certain set of paid individuals makes all other opinions, choices, or ideas invalid.

There is no dollar amount I could give to a piece of paper that would make my mind, my intelligence, and my ability to organize and understand words in an impactful way that would make me more valid than I am today. There is no degree that could replace my work ethic, my empathy, my desire to write stories to do good. To give something to the world and help people survive in the ways that I had needed to survive.

Maybe I'll tell this story again one day, and it will help another young person with my background believe there may be more in life than the cards they were dealt. Maybe this will be the first and last time sharing these words. Maybe I'll never get another piece published, but will continue to write fanfic and poetry and prose pieces to share on the internet for free because I believe in my heart it is valuable. To look at myself, and my work, and deem myself worthy of my efforts and passion.

I am proud to be a member of the community of published writers without a degree.

I am even more proud to be a member of online fandoms full of writers, artists, creators, contributors and more who give their free time and energy towards something that does nothing more than make others happy.

So,

to the people who look at the stars and wish.

to the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered,

this one is for you.

[severus-snaps]

not me just making myself sad about snape on the hogwarts staff

1980-ish, voldemort's sent him to apply for DADA; he failed in this first attempt, but brought back the prophecy. fast forward to september 1981 and sev has turned, is working for dumbledore, is perhaps already having to use occlumency to prevent voldemort from working out his true motives and the fact he went to Dumbledore for a reason other than "spinning a tale of deepest remorse" for the sake of spying

he's 21ish. he's teaching little kids all the way to students barely younger than him. secondary school students can be unbelievably cruel and rowdy (source: our year, famous for being one of the most tame in the yeargroup and forever bitter that the actually wild year above us got all of our privileges like going into town at lunch revoked for shoplifting, made at least one teacher cry; other source: the marauders).

he's having a constant low-level crisis about whether he's doing everything right. he's second-guessing himself because school guidelines are so vague. he gets told he's a harsh marker and to allow for the fact his students are kids. he's just sticking to the guidelines. he'd never have made these mistakes.

students whisper about him behind his back for all the same reasons harry and the marauders did (he's too ugly, too greasy, too sour). he's teaching lockhart. lockhart is in a year where he'd have heard what happened in SWM. i don't think Lockhart is intentionally cruel but he will say anything for attention; he starts the rumour again after giving a dramatic performance with real and gossip-added details of SWM and other encounters. severus battles for classroom discipline; he has to rule with an iron fist. the next time he loses classroom control is after lupin's lesson with the boggart

he potentially has no close peers. the closest people in age to him are the students, but he can't socialise with them. his colleagues were his teachers only a few years ago; they either know outright that he'd spent time as a death eater or heard rumours that he was very likely to have been one. the war is ongoing. they treat him with politeness and respect because this was dumbledore's doing, not because they like or trust him. he's on their side now, but they don't know that

the war ends a few weeks into his first term. voldemort is gone. lily is dead. snape is sobbing in dumbledore's office, but he won't tell anyone else he's upset; he never tells anyone the depth of his feelings for lily, his guilt and remorse. his temper shortens; he's even less popular with the students, and more reclusive with the staff. i imagine it takes a while for his friendly rivalry with minerva to develop.

he still feels like a child. he doesn't have the experience for this job. he doesn't have the desire. he was never a leader, and now he's head of house, potions master, unofficial dark arts expert amidst the ongoing cycle of DADA teachers. he spends the first few months or years feeling constantly out of his depth, isolated, grieving, depressed. his house is still the odd one out. he's still the odd one out.

eventually he grows into the role. he's comfortable with his reputation and his teaching style. he's on good terms with dumbledore and minerva, the others rally behind him when they hate a DADA teacher. but he's never certain whether the other teachers accept him as one of their own or whether they're all just polite on dumbledore's word

eventually he finds out the hard way. he's isolated and hated and terrified and grieving alone. whenever he makes an appearance as headmaster he fleetingly thinks it would've been easier if he were someone else; if someone like pomona or filius or minerva had killed dumbledore, people would be outraged, but they'd think something else was going on. they'd trust them enough to know that there were other factors at play. his peers, his colleagues, wouldn't be looking at him that way. hadn't he spent over a decade with them, sharing the staffroom, sharing meals, making jokes about quidditch, bitching about umbridge, sighing about lockhart, groaning about exams and the board of governors and the twin weasleys' pranks?

he knows their trust stemmed from dumbledore, and it died with him. he knows it has to be this way. he knows he actively made it this way. he had to, for his cover, for his role, for everyone's safety

but sometimes he allows himself to imagine how nice it would feel if he wasn't completely alone

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 67

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Hold your belongings close and this week’s chapter art by @aimike17 closer!

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

This may seem like a rehash of last week''s, but @tmntxthings seriously came in CLUTCH for these last few chapters. I had a lot of details that weren't ironed out for whatever reason and she helped me put them in real order! We wouldn't have Weak Spot as we know it without her!!!!

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Things were pleasantly stabilizing. For once in what felt like years you had time to breathe. Not always a bad thing as Donnie had a penchant for taking your breath away, it was instead a slowdown from the nonstop repetitiveness of undertakings occuring. They were always begging for your utmost attention and just having a few months of normality in comparison felt like a vacation all its own.

You were healthy.

Donnie was healthy.

Your friends.

Your family.

The storm had passed and with a righted ship, you applied yourself at your job. Finally able to look at long term goals, you plotted out that you could be moved back into your position by performance reviews next year. A long goal, but not a lofty one, you had heard murmurs of how they hadn’t hired anyone for your old position. You kept yourself humble, but you had a feeling that maybe you’d be asked back sooner.

First, however, you were going to obliterate the simpler desk job they passed off to you and leverage that for a fatter raise if that were the case.

If not, you could catch up on the backlog of filing and then ride out the cushy position.

It was a win-win.

Optimism.

Not something you thought too much on, you felt it creeping up on you. You kept your back to it just in case, but it acted as a lounge chair. You could recline in happy thoughts for once and Donnie appeared to be doing the same. You both kept busy both separate and together which made the overall mood a light one. With summer having scorched the earth, you had a second yielding of crops from your rooftop garden. Besides the comfortable labor done up there of tending to it, Donnie had procured that tree you wanted and you found yourselves relaxing in the space for the sake of it. You’d drink in sunsets and sneak glances at each other as the city hummed around you.

You had a good work day, a catered lunch with coworkers, and an uneventful ride home to your apartment. Donnie was on the schedule for dinner tonight and the dish he was making was one you’d had many times before. A delicious staple, it was to be yet another normal evening as you stepped through your threshold. Your boyfriend wasn’t at his desk which didn’t pique any necessary worries as meal prep always took him in roundabout ways depending on his mood. You took care in putting your things up and went to get something to drink.

You were sipping on a beverage and gazing out the kitchen window at two lovers schmoozing on the street below when the door opened.

Donnie appeared with a grocery bag cradled to his chest and his carapace to you.

“Hey, Sweet. Beat you.” You tipped your glass to him.

He barely nodded.

Distraction not a foreign thing when he had recipe steps filtering through his mind, you moved out of the kitchen to give him space.

He made it exactly halfway there before you heard a comical rip.

Something that could double as movie foley, you saw Donnie hunch where groceries then spilled out around him before he could react.

Round objects rolled to settle and there was a glug of something leaking.

Donnie didn’t move.

He was frozen in place.

You set your drink down and properly took him in.

Not lengthy exhaustion, but tight lines of today’s anxiety creased his face. There was then a smudge on his cheek that was barely perceptible and not something you could identify. From there you realized that the way he clutched the grocery bag was because one of the straps was already torn. A thin and separate rip then took the bottom, though there was an odd gouge where it started. The spill poured from there, but a different sort of streak of what looked like dust streaked his pants.

All that information taken in only a few seconds, you pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. You gathered a towel that was disposable and a roll of paper towels. You were at Donnie’s side in an instant cleaning up the mess as he stood a statue over you.

Saving grocery goods that hadn’t been destroyed in the wreckage, you saw the brand.

It was to that grocery store you tried to conquer once every few months. Always an ordeal, it had been agreed upon that Donnie wasn’t to attend. This was your venture and you were fine with that. Which meant him having gone made little sense. You yourself had been not that long ago and there were still items from the store dotting the freezer. Your dinner was a common one so there shouldn’t have been any reason for him to go out of his way.

A rag was soaking up lost juice and you looked up at him with a box in hand. “Why did you go here?”

His lips parted, but nothing came.

You softened at his struggle and moved to finish cleaning up. You then took several trips bringing everything salvable to the kitchen before you attended to the rock solid form of your mate. He watched you with his eyes, but his posture hadn’t unfurled in the slightest. Taking great care not to touch him, you instead slid through the remains of the bag and coaxed him with tiny pulls to release.

He did so with peeling back fingers and a grip like one reserved for roller coaster safety bars.

“I’m gonna toss this.” You told him and examined the bag on the way to the trash. The spindly fibers on the handle said it had broken with use. It made sense as weight mattered little to Donnie so you imagined the bag had mistakenly been taxed. From there, you couldn’t parse out the tear to the bottom. There was an outward puncture as if it had been stabbed through, but the groceries you gathered didn’t have damage that matched.

Dumping the thing, you turned to find Donnie had cracked his façade and was looking down at his legs. It took you no time to spy a dark splatter on his pants from where the juice had exploded upon ground contact.

“Why don’t you wash up and change?”

It was as if he needed to hear the offer to do more and gave a solemn nod.

You watched him disappear around the partition and looked after him with metered affection. Though the circumstances were bad, you loved this side of him just as much. No matter how put together he tried to make himself, he still got as hung up as anyone else. You didn’t need him humanized in your eyes, but knowing that you were one of the few who got to see it warmed your heart.

Doing a last pass to make sure everything was cleaned from the spill, you set to work throwing something in the oven. Taking out a freezer backup meal, you were re-reading the instructions while the oven warmed when Donnie emerged in another full blown outfit. One you liked on him, it chiseled his usual carved form and he came over with intent oozing off of him.

“Did you want to go out? I can turn the oven off.” You made a show of the box you had yet to open.

He took it in with a furl of his brow and nothing more.

“Donnie?” You tilted your head to catch his eye. “You okay?”

He said nothing, but his features further creased until he was outright scowling.

“Is it this?” You showed him the meal again. “There’s also a pasta. You liked it last time, we can do that instead?”

“Pasta.” He spoke the word as if possessed.

It didn’t read as a confirmation to you and instead almost like a mime. “Don, I’m starting to worry.”

That seemed to penetrate him and he looked at you with renewed intent. “Restaurant?”

“We can.” You moved to shut the oven off.

The moment your back turned, you heard him give a testy sort of grunt.

It slowed your finger near the off button. “Or… not?”

Silence again reigned so you turned to view him.

It took several long moments, but you thought you got a read off him.

It almost looked like he was paralyzed by choice.

He needed you to be clear and concise so you gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s order out, get something nice.”

He stalled in a nod, but eventually his head bowed, deferring to your decision.

You remembered he’d mentioned a new Italian place earlier that week so you recommended it.

Again, he agreed with a shaky bob of his head.

You moved close, but gave him a berth as you brought up your phone. Finding the location and flipping through the menu a few times, he eventually named a dish for himself and you selected your own. Throwing in an appetizer for good measure and a dessert that sounded like something he liked, you pressed send. The page turned over for a confirmation and you moved wordlessly to put the freezer meal away. 

You passed him toward the living room to get your drink.

He needed space to process.

Plopping down and getting comfortable, you sipped from your glass.

You watched your partner move through motions without movement.

He seemed to scold himself.

There was a pause as if he found fault.

He then forgave his person with a heave of the sigh.

Something difficult, it pummeled his strength and he moved to hold the counter.

It was his version of a breather, but whatever the conundrum was, wasn’t solved.

He was trapped with it and sent that distress to you.

You made an obvious show of setting your glass down to telegraph he had you in any form he needed.

It came with his shuffling feet where his knees bumped the far couch arm.

You watched as he tipped like a plank of wood until he collapsed, face first, into the center cushion. 

Behind him, his legs extended straight into the air.

You chewed on a laugh.

He laid in that position for a little too long.

You moved, first unsure, then careful to graze the back of his head.

The touch was a question.

He answered it with a heaved sigh and a turn of his cheek.

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you could now see that smudge better. You still didn’t know what it was, but you stood. A few steps to the bedroom and back got you a tissue and you knelt down in front of him. He watched you with a beaten down expression and you took great care in wiping his cheek clean.

“Thank you.” He mumbled earnestly.

You nodded and chanced the faintest peck to his brow. “Whatever you need.”

For a split second, all the strain washed off him.

What looked at you was your loving mate.

Then misery returned to him and he soured with a pucker.

It shallowed your heart and you sent that concern to him. “What is it, Don?”

He shook his head before rolling all the way over and buried himself into the back of the couch. It pulled his legs off from their perch on the arm and he curled them up to his body in almost a fetal position. You watched on with a hopeless feeling and caught how he’d left your seat open. Giving your own exhale before standing, you sat there and wondered what the next best step was.

The wait for food to arrive was always so annoying.

You ordered and were forced to wait just long enough that having a snack was debatable, but discouraged.

Wondering if maybe hunger was getting Donnie down in some form, you felt a bump to your thigh.

Blinking once outward then twice at your leg, you found that said man in question had squirreled his way up the few inches that separated you so the top of his head could just graze your leg.

You watched him with metered interest.

With a shimmy of his shoulders, he repeated the move, but jostled you without any strength.

You weren’t exactly sure, but you adjusted your recline so your lap was open.

He tilted his head just long enough to spy on you.

You were waiting there with a quirked brow.

He hid away in what seemed like irritation in having been caught.

“You can always ask if you’re not sure…” You told the air and patted your legs in offer.

You counted exactly five seconds before he kicked off the far armrest so his body would lift. His head landed on your lap and when you tried to look down at him, he buried his beak into your stomach.

“Silly cutie.” You told him.

He grunted against you with a warmth spreading through your top.

He wiggled, obviously breathing you in.

You chanced setting a hand on his arm.

His body curled, trying to get closer where the couch was in the way.

It reminded you of how he wrapped his body around you when he was in the midst of his heat.

In a slow stroke, you pet his arm. “Did you have a bad day?”

It took some processing time, but he nodded against you.

“Sucks.” You commiserated. “I know those and I’m here for you.”

He spoke something, but you couldn’t hear it.

“Hm?” You continued to pet his arm.

He said nothing more and grew slack against you.

Picking a piece of lint from him, you rubbed his limb then this head. It took a long while, but eventually he gave into the barest churr which you took as a good sign. There was a beep from the computer and you looked over to see the feed of a delivery person. “I’m gonna get the food.”

Donnie gave a little annoyed chuff and curled down into himself.

It freed you up and you bent to kiss his head before going to get the door. An easy transaction, you gathered bags and moved to the kitchen. Donnie stayed put and you gathered up his meal with his preferred utensils. Moving to bring his over first, you set up his container in a restaurant-style presentation before returning to the kitchen to grab yours. Upon returning, he had unfurled and was looking at his meal with a tired eye.

You sat beside him and were careful not to jostle his being.

He rubbed an eye and took a fork around the time you got the remote. “Want to watch something?”

“That one show.”

You hadn’t been prepared for a response and your head snapped to him.

“The hospital one.”

You knew it because he’d mentioned he liked their accurate take.

It was also an albeit silly one.

Tempering your surprise that he’d picked at all, you pulled it up. “Which episode?”

“Dumb luck one.”

Your eyes shot wide and you fought every single instinct not to send awe at your partner.

You flipped screens knowing which episode he was talking about and it also happened to be the one he’d praised the show on. It all felt so surreal, but the moment it started, you saw Donnie move to eat. After he’d successfully chewed his first bite, you watched the monotony of consumption hit him and it allowed his brain to give way to simpler stimulation.

You eventually ate yourself and watched as the episode rolled into another. It was nearing the fourth one when Donnie made a little noise. It had an attentive quality, as if something occurred to him, and you moved to check in. You found his gaze clear, but the weight of his worries had dropped upon him anew. Brows pinched tight enough to seal a leak, it trapped the concerns of his brilliant mind.

You set your container down where it had been laying empty in your lap and crossed the space to sit directly beside him.

He promptly got up and moved one sofa square further from you.

His rebuff struck you like a blow. 

You hadn’t bothered him, but he ran from you.

You shirked away and gathered the discarded take-out. Putting things away in the kitchen, you tossed trash, set a few things to soak, and did it all with a broken heart. You argued with it, hoping to push it away and make sense of what was bothering him. It seemed to twirl down a drain and you eventually relented to wash up. Changing into pajamas, you exited the restroom to find Donnie’s head still sat, unmoved, from where he was still sat on the couch.

He’d stay there.

You weren’t mad.

You weren’t even necessarily hurt. 

It did sting through. 

You were slow to part the curtains of the canopy. You looked up at them and thought about their origin. You’d recommended them after a bad day of your own. Donnie had worked so hard then and you twisted a hand in the fabric. A soft material, it gave easily and you wondered what you were missing. From the gentle action to asking, it seemed you’d rounded all the bases except space. A frustrating one, he had illustrated the concept literally and you supposed he did so because he couldn’t elaborate.

Clutching onto that hope, you released the canopy. This was meant to be his safe haven so you turned to look out at him. “Hey, Don?”

His head tipped upward as if he had awoken.

“Let’s switch. You take the bed and I’ll sit on the couch?” You stepped away with the offer.

Donnie dipped to gather force and then stood. Standing statuesque for a moment, he then turned mechanically. Step by step, he walked out from the couch until he lifted his eyes from the floor and glimpsed you. “You changed.”

“Huh?” You looked down at yourself and then to him. “Oh yeah, you’re still dressed.”

He reached you with his worries percolating, but they now seemed centered on your pajamas.

You tipped your body to catch his eye.

He gave it with lined concern.

“Did we need to go somewhere?”

“No.”

A frown tried to manifest on your lips, but you forced it into a thin line. “Here.” You gestured to the bed. “Get some rest, okay? Love you.”

You didn’t wait and moved around him.

You felt him track you with a full rotation of his body.

His gaze felt burrowing as you sat on the couch and ducked out of sight just to shake it off.

Everything was fine.

Your peace was intact.

Donnie had a bad day.

How many of those had he had?

Not many that weren’t equally shared by you.

This was uncharted territory.

He needed space.

He’d passed along as much.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It was okay.

You felt assured as you groped for the remote.

It was down by your feet and you had to reach for it.

When you laid back out, Donnie was standing an ominous shadow above you.

A small yelp escaped your throat. “What are you doing!?”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You held a hand to your heart where it was racing.

He stared down.

“Donnie, please. I don’t know what you want.” You sat up and nearly immediately he took a seat in the space you left. “O… kay…?”

His posture was terrible, he was a curved ‘C,’ and his hands twiddled thumbs in his lap.

You guessed you had been wrong about the bed.

You moved to stand.

Donnie snatched your wrist.

You stared at him.

His eyes warped, pleading.

“Don…”

“Y/N…”

“Yes?” You begged him.

Distress bled from his lips.

You tugged lightly on your hand.

His grip tightened.

“Donatello. I don’t know. I can’t know unless you share. Please. I want to help.”

“You can’t.”

It felt like another lash to your chest.

“I am the failure here.”

You jarred.

“It is my own to bear.”

“What are you talking about?” You moved to face him.

His grip on your wrist changed to a loose cuff. “Restaurant.”

“Huh?”

“To cliché. Too obvious. Already done to capacity.”

“Don…”

“The venue?” He glanced away, seeing plans you couldn’t. “Outdoor, romantic? Assuredly, but taken. I’ve plotted our Valentine’s seven years in advance.”

It was such an oddly specific number you wanted to ask about.

“Indoor, the same. Stunning architecture? A backdrop. A fountain? Does that compare our love to water? My cup runneth over. Of course it does!”

Your fingers curled in his.

He didn’t seem to notice. “That brought comparisons, metaphors, places we’ve been before. Retreads, deeper meanings, foils! The sandwich shop where we met! The outside of your work building! That courtyard where you revealed your sorrows! Rooftops! Alleyways!! Food!! Beverage!!! Grocery store!!!”

He was becoming more manic by the second.

“Not center stage!!! Something small!! Something meaningful!!! The options!!! So many fucking options!!!”

You were in motion and you broke free of him.

He did nothing to hold you back.

You caught his face.

“The guilt has been eating me alive!”

You inhaled sharply as you got an up close look at his glassy gaze.

“Nothing is worthy of you. Nothing is good enough. I am at my end. It has to be good enough. I have to be good enough.”

“Donnie, please. You are-”

“A meal! I thought! I’d already considered it and a million others, but I could create a dish that rolls all meaning into one. I’d make a standard, one we both enjoyed. It would represent our connection, the banality of it all. How in that we matter so much more! A centerpiece dotting an average night turning it into an unforgettable one!!”

You loosened your grip and he pressed his cheek against one of your palms.

“If ever there was a folly, I encountered it today.”

You tucked your fingers under his chin and scratched his favorite spot.

He didn’t have it in him to churr. “I fell back asleep after you left this morning. I need strength for today’s mission so I rooted into your pillow. I do adore your scent.”

Your face warmed.

“Lulled, I woke later than my preparation required so I rushed. Changed, the outfit I meant was to be picked up so I was forced into another. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, a rush, quicker. Outside and to the store before I realized I’d forgotten totes and, more importantly, my wallet.”

You nodded, attentive.

“I returned, gathered those only to be stopped by movers on the floor below. They’d wedged a dresser in the stairwell so I meant to pick it up and move it for time’s sake. It was repulsively dirty.”

That explained the dust.

“They thanked me and initiated touch which…” Donnie shuddered. “I weathered and made it to the store only for a key ingredient to be sold out! I moved to another store and found the same! I hacked the inventory systems to find the buyer was a rogue food truck owner who did not receive their order. They decided to instead rob the everyday consumer by buying up all surrounding stock!”

You leaned into him.

He accepted you with a moment of closed eyes as his forehead bumped yours. “That left me without options as time was ceaselessly ticking so I opted for a last minute adjustment. Another of our favorite meals with exclusive ingredients from that store you like.”

You nuzzled him.

He gave a few second rumble in his throat. “It remains a nightmare. The people. The staff! So loud! So synthetic!”

“Foods worth it.”

“It was meant to be! I gathered what I needed and made it to the curb where the car was parked when it was struck.”

You jolted away to stare down at him.

He looked at you with severity. “The hazards were on. Every precaution was taken. My system may be able to protect itself, but others always have a portion of incalculable unknowns.”   

“You were in a car wreck!?”

“I had yet to enter the vehicle. I was leaned forward to set the filled bags in the seat when it was rear ended. I watched as everything I had purchased be crushed in an instant.”

“Donnie!”

“I was uninjured, but there came police and insurance reports, and endless, endless, conversation!”

“Was the other person-!?”

“Fine! They were fine! The cars were both totaled. It’s fine.It was time for an upgrade, but the hemorrhaging of time!!”

You wilted.

“I returned inside, I bought the scant ingredients as the damn store was being picked clean, but I did what had to be done. My last chance for scraping together the evening. I got my bags. I moved to exit.”

He was building and your face expressed your woe.

“A child knocked over an enormous vase housing a floral display in the entrance and I was skewered.”

“You said you weren't injured!?”

“I wasn’t!” Donnie’s teeth appeared in a curl. “I dodged and thought I compensated for the bag’s swing!”

“But!?”

“But.” He repeated harshly. “I also dove to save the boy from the shattering glass. In the process, the bag was punctured.”

“The bag.”

“Not the boy.” Donnie scoffed at the clarification. “The child saw the piece and thought it helpful to rip the chunk out!”

You gave what was almost a laugh.

“I saved his hand and berated him in not only glass safety protocol but that leaving a weapon in a stab wound is proper procedure.”

“You told a kid what!?”

“Trust.” His gaze was flat with the pained memory. “His mother had quite a bit to say about that. Please.” 

You almost felt dizzy. “Okay… All this… takes up more time...”

“The bag was in disarray, but the food was untouched, so I only needed to support the bottom and ride… public transit.” Donnie sneered.

“Don…” You shrank with sympathy.

He pulled you into his arms and spoke softly to your ear.

“Dreadful. The sights. The smells. The horror.” He tucked his beak against you. “I made it. You arrived home before me. How could I prepare? I had all, but given up. Then… I saw you.”

You leaned against him.

“A vision. All my worries vanished. You, a stunning placement, bathed in window light. Your glass glittering as you sipped. Your mood jovial. I thought anew. We would cook together. Show our bond. More of our domesticity.”

“The bag…”

“The bag had presumably worn the weight no matter what my hold and had other ideas.”

“You froze.”

“It felt as though my entire plot collapsed as well. Before I could do a single moment of damage control, you were taking charge. From cleaning, to the meal, what was left?”

“Anything…? You wanted to highlight how well we work together.”

“I had been absent! For all of it! Spiraling from plans left unlaid!”

“So…? We fix it?”

“I needed you to fix it! I need to explain! That wasn’t the plan! It was too far gone! I’d been silent too long! It was an illustration, but also a surprise!”

You weren’t sure what to say.

“Then in my wretched attitude, I rebuked you?! Idiot! I was dwelling on when to reschedule. The moment I moved away from your worry was the moment I realized my grave mistake! I hurt your feelings which meant I would have to wait until they were repaired before even chancing a thing.”

“What…? What is all of this? I keep thinking you’ll say it, but you’re just alluding to something I don’t know about.”

“You!” He spoke as if that was the answer.

You stared back with sadness tinting you.

“You…” He cupped your hand to his cheek. “Our love.”

You shook your head, not understanding.

“I can’t do it like this. Please… If you can continue to wait?”

“Donnie.” You sighed. “You know I’ll wait for you. You know I’ll always wait for whatever you need. You aren’t getting rid of me, but all this sounds ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re trying to plan or why it has to all be good for something to happen. Bad things happen. I think every bad thing that could happen, has happened to us. It matters, but it also doesn’t! We have each other and that’s what’s important. Like you said: our day to day, the fact that we can, will, are, whatever, going to do this for the rest of our lives is proof. All the stupid weeknight dinners. Watching whatever shows. Cleaning. Cooking. Maintaining a house. Taking care of us and anyone else.”

A little color marked his cheeks.

You kissed each of them, one at a time. “You’re right. That’s what’s important. It’s how we interact. How we’re codependent or whatever! We’re us forever and always and we like it. We’re not all these crazy things. We’re this and if we can do this? We can do anything.”

You watched all concern wash away from your partner.

He moved, carefully, to take you close.

He kissed you with a shallow press that said he needed to do more.

Allowing him that, he stood and ushered you onto the couch.

Taking the middle seat, you watched as he looked only once at the coffee table.

It was clean from where you’d removed the remnants of dinner and he caught one end to lift it.

As if it were paper, he sat it on its side and it stood a tall wooden obelisk.

He gave it a little rock to test how sturdy it was.

Satisfied it wouldn’t fall, he released it and addressed you.

His hand disappeared into his pocket.

He removed it with something concealed.

He dropped down onto one knee.

Everything hit you with a flood that watered your eyes.

“Y/N L/N…”

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth.

He looked at you through his lids and his own outpouring of adoration. “I should scold you for stealing my moment, but you have also assured me that I will have nothing but opportunity for another.”

You shook your head and a few tears loosed.

“I should have known.”

He smiled fondly.

“The best way to do this was whenever felt right.”

His hand came up.

“No planning, just as you appeared without any.”

One palm offered, he unfurled his fingers to reveal the jewelry box.

“My heart.”

His other hand opened it up to reveal a clean band that seemed to radiate some kind of aura.

“My love.”

He offered it up to you and all of him read submissive.

“My life. I offer it all. Will you please marry me?”

You nodded too furiously. “Yes!!!”

Tears darted the air as you shot forward the moment he tried to grab the ring.

The box clicked shut and you tackled him.

To the ground where you both laughed and tears flowed.

“How long have you been worrying about this?!” You croaked against him.

He wrapped his arms around you. “Months. You caught me planning multiple times, but never noticed!”

“Evil!”

He laughed brightly and wrung you side to side.

It bumped a table leg and you both froze as the coffee table wobbled.

Donnie rolled over top of you so he’d take the brunt of the damage. 

The table only fell like a bridge. 

It landed on all its feet and hovered inches above your fiancé. 

Locked safely beneath it, you sent all your affections before you kissed him.

Having weaseled his arm into position, he slipped the ring on your finger and you felt it warm your digit.

💜NEXT💜

I don't know the exact date, but we are hard coming up on a year that @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 have been my betas! I have and endless sea of gratitude for them both! They are integral to my writing at this point!

[seat-safety-switch]

A few years ago, I went back to visit my childhood home. Boredom called, and I decided to drown it out by using some tactically applied high-RPM until I arrived at the location. This house is a lot different now, in both subtle and dramatic ways. Obviously, there's a different family living in it. The lawn is a little bit better kept, after my dad's heroin-chic attempts at re-wilding have been knocked down by a more conventional suburbanite approach. And Coco is gone.

Coco is the neighbour's dog. Or he was. Despite being a small, black puffball, he would bark furiously at me whenever I came out into the yard. Dogs don't live nearly long enough, and presumably at some point between when I left and when I returned, he passed onto the great hereafter, barking at an infinite expanse of angels for perceived injustices against dog-kind. In his place was another small, black puffball.

This new dog, who I was not lucky enough to get the name of, also barked furiously at me upon my approach to the property. Coco's successor was performing the same job, in the same spot, with the same asshole attitude, decades later, totally unaware of his predecessor's impressive body of work on this exact file, or even his presence on this cursed Earth. I started to feel a little woozy at the existential rush that contemplating this produced, and quickly returned to my car, where I purged the nitrous oxide a few times until I felt better.

That dog was lucky, in a lot of ways. He didn't have to think about leaving a legacy for the future, and could just focus on perfecting the art of yipping furiously at my presence. All dogs want the same thing, as long as they're put in that yard, and are small yappy creatures. Maybe humans are the ones that fucked it up, I ruminate as I slot the compressed-air shifter into the next gear in order to finally cease the several-minutes-long burnout that I had been doing in front of his house to really work his barky ass up.

[plant-acts]

Linked Universe College Theater AU

The amount of crazy stuff that goes on in my college theater program deserves to be immortalized with my favorite characters!

So here is what I think they would be like if they were Theater Majors with Time and Malon being their professors (plus some other fun characters at the end)!

--

Time: 46 | Technical Theater Director for the college | In the beginning, he was a simple high school theater teacher, but after seeing an opening at a small college he and his wife decided to apply! He has been teaching at the college for the past 6 years and essentially saved the program. He loves his job, but if he gets one more student named Link, he might burn the place down. His wife is the Artistic Director, Malon, and their son Twilight is his student.

Twilight: 22 | Technical Theater | His parents had him introduced to theater at a young age and he quickly learned that he enjoyed the technical aspect more than the acting side (like father like son). Even though Time insisted he could apply to any college, Twi chose to go to his parent's program. Within the theater, he leads the set-building crew. The man is crazy strong (a platform almost fell on Wild while he was working underneath it and with one hand, Twi caught the set, and with the other; he dragged Wild out). He is living with his parents until he graduates. After that, he hopes to open a summer stock theater in a nearby town.

Warriors: 21 |Performance Theater | Originally, after graduating high school he was going to go into the military, but plans changed after his grandmother passed. Now he is one of the newest performance majors! To be honest, he never saw himself on the stage until he was forced to go to a summer musical audition at the college with his younger stepbrother, Wind. To his surprise, he got a part and has been in love with it ever since! He can often be found helping with the costume department (everyone begs him to please stop trying to put them in scarves; the stage lights are too hot for it). He and his younger stepbrothers live in an apartment together.

Legend: 21 | Performance Theater | He has probably been doing theater longer than everyone else (besides Twilight, but they don’t count him because his parents are theater teachers). As a kid, his family signed him up for summer classes. Quickly, they found he had genuine talent, and he performed throughout high school. At one point, he was in an official production of Matilda, but he refuses to tell which it was. Expressing emotions has always been hard for him and theater is an outlet he can use to be anyone he wants (although sometimes he regrets the performance major choice, especially when he has to dye his hair pink for a role, and it stains). Although he's a performance major, he could give tech students a run for their money. He somehow knows everything (years of experience)! He lives in an apartment near campus with his roommates Ravio and Hyrule.

Sky: 20 | Performance Theater | The Dude was born for the stage. His first performance was in high school, and he has led in every show since. He just seems to shine and embody the character. His high school theater program was small, so it was a culture shock to see so many talented people at the college. Because of that, he struggles with self-doubt. He sometimes doesn’t believe he is good enough to be there. His girlfriend, Sun, is also a performance major at the college and does what she can to assure him he is crazy talented, just like the rest of them. He has the best singing voice out of everyone and is not afraid to do karaoke at the worst time. They live together in an apartment right next to Legend and Hyrule (all the apartments just happen to be in the same building on the same floor).

Hyrule: 20 | Technical Theater | Growing up, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to be. That was until he needed an art credit and joined the tech theater class! He has been in love with it ever since! He loves seeing a show come together and how everyone works as a team to make it happen. Usually, he is in charge of finding props in the maze that is the prop loft (seriously; it is a mess; they have lost Four back there a few times). If no one steps up to be a stage manager or assistant director for a show, he will gladly fill that spot. He lives with his roommates Legend and Ravio.

Wild: 20 | Technical Theater | Originally, he was going to be a performance major, but an accident in his first semester of college changed that. Now he has a cool scar on his face and the memory of a goldfish (to be honest it had always been comically bad, so nothing much changed there). He wasn’t going to let some bad luck stop his love of theater, so he changed majors and has been a menace to Time ever since (maybe he will go back to acting one day, who knows ;)). Whether it’s helping in any way possible, specifically building sets with Twilight, or assisting with costumes, he is always lending a hand. He is convinced OSHA does not apply to him (when does it ever apply in theater). One time, he put a ladder on an electric lift so he could fix a sign. The sign still ended up crooked. No one knows why, but he somehow has everything anyone could ever need in his tool belt. Nails? Check. Bobby Pins? Check. The secrets of the universe? Maybe? He lives with his partner Flora and support dog, Wolfie.

Four: 19 | Four is actually 4 different people. The quadruplets all applied to the same college and didn’t realize until they got their acceptance letters! For the longest time, everyone thought they were the same person (somehow the brothers never noticed that people believed this and just thought everyone was being weird when they said a second ago, they watched him leave through the opposite door). After everyone figured it out, they started wearing colored headbands so people could tell them apart (they absolutely have switched colors to mess with people or get out of doing a job). Everyone calls them Four as a joke, and because it is easier than trying to catch sight of the colored headbands. They live with their older brother Shadow, who is a technical theater major, but he works nights, and they don’t see each other on campus much.

Blue: Technical Theater | Hides on the catwalk after hanging lights and you won't know about it until he is screaming "HEADS" because he dropped his phone.

Green: Performance Theater | He has just kinda accepted the fact that if there is a young character, he will be typecast as them. It doesn't help that he looks androgynous and can play a man or woman.

Red: Performance Theater | If there was a most dramatic award he would get it. One time he got a paper cut and screamed so loud that Hyrule swears he felt the loft shake.

Vio: Technical Theater | He is the resident painter of the program, which means he is in charge of doing the shading for every. single. set. More than once he has stayed the night to finish painting a flat.

Wind: 18 | Technical/Performing Theater | He couldn't decide which he wanted to major in, so he dual majors (Malon and Time have a small fun competition to see if they can convince him to favor one over the other)! He lived in a small coastal town until his grandmother died. After that, he and his twin brother Spirit moved in with their stepbrother Warriors since they already planned to go to the same college. More than once, he has to be told to slow down his lines (totally not projecting here). He's absolutely convinced that the theater is haunted after he was locked in and heard crying from the loft. His favorite part of tech is drawing up a design for the set. He is the head of marketing and takes it very seriously. Although he is the youngest, he hates being treated like he doesn't know what is going on and people not letting him help on important projects. He's been doing theater since middle school and just wants to be a part of the team!

Other Characters!

Hylia: ??? | Head of Performing Arts | She has been working at the college for as long as anyone can remember. Kind, but can be quite strict with her employees and their students if they get out of line.

Gannon: ??? | College President | Not much to say about him, he never leaves his office. But before Time and Malon started teaching, he tried to shut down the theater department because there weren't enough students.

Malon: 47 | Artistic Director | She, Time, and Twilight live on a few acres of land given to her by her father. She loves to invite The Chain (the name she gave the group of Links who joined the program and became friends) over for game nights. More than once she has walked into her office to see one of the boys asleep in the corner, where she has a stack of pillows.

Beetle: 23 | ??? | Legit just some dude who really likes the college productions and goes to every show to support the program.

Shadow: 22 | Technical Theater | No one is quite sure if he even exists. Every time a prop breaks, they call his name, and in the blink of an eye; it is either fixed or gone. He runs the lights, but the glass of the tech booth is so dirty you can't see what he looks like (hence the nickname Shadow). Four insists that he is their older brother, but the believability of that differs from person to person.

Ravio: 21 | Business Sales | Legend and Hyrule's roommate. More than once, he has tried to sell things he "borrowed" from people back to their owners. It never works and he just plays it off as practice for his business class.

Flora: 20 | Mechanical Engineer | She lives with Wild and is half of his impulse control. She can get super focused on her studies and Wild will drag her to the theatre to get her out of the house (and prove that yes he does have a girlfriend, and no she is not made up)

Sun: 20 | Performance Theatre | In high school, she and Sky were cast as Audrey and Seymour in Little Shop of Horrors. She was so nervous about the Suddenly Seymour kiss that she was almost sick. Her and Sky laugh about it now because he was also super scared to kiss his crush.

Tetra:19 | Navy | Wind’s best friend from his hometown. They kept in touch even after he moved away. She is joining the Navy and the last summer before she left and he started college; they met up in person for the first time in months. They just hung out at the beach and talked like old times. They miss each other, so she tries to surprise him at his shows as much as she can.

Phantom: 18 | Psychology | Spirits best friend. She can and will talk your ear off about whatever new thing she is learning in class. She lives in an apartment with a few of her friends and invites Spirit to every girl's night (he has crush privileges and loves to gossip just as much as any of the gals)

Spirit: 18 | Civil Engineering | Wind's twin brother. He wants to work on building transportation routes between different cities (although the amount of work he has to do makes him wish he just went into fast food instead). He might not talk much, but his facial expressions can rival any of the actors.

Aryll: 13 | Middle School | Wind and Spirits younger sister. She moved in with her dad and stepmom after their grandma's death. She misses the beach but is happy to be making friends and learning about the city.

--

If you made it this far, please do not be afraid to ask questions in my ask box. I am dying to talk and write about this AU.

Please.

I beg.

(Also, I am pretty new to the loz and LU fandoms so if something feels off, or I missed some characters, tell me and I'll fix/talk about them!)