#its about a black woman taking care of HERSELF after giving so much to her kids

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Soft Moments with Mizu•°

Contrary to what others would claim, Mizu does have a soft side.

A side she's had to shove down into the deepest parts of herself because everytime she's let it be free, it's been a mistake.

She showed that side to Mikio and he betrayed her. Called her a monster.

But, she can be soft, gentle and playful to those she trusts, especially to you.

So much so that you'll never understand why people call her a demon in the first place.

The part within Mizu that was revealed to you was that of a woman in love. Who laughed and teased you in between kisses and smiles at you as if you were the very sun.

She quite literally and figuratively, let's her hair down with you.

Speaking of, she loves it when you comb through her hair.

After a long day of needing to fake it, she absolutely relishes being able to let her hair loose from its up-do and the feel of your hands in her hair.

Your fingers gently coaxing knots free from her silky black strands and the way you massage her skull, too. She can't help but let out a moan sometimes, despite being embarrassed about it but you love the sound.

Mizu will help you apply your makeup if you wish her to. She's not partial to wearing any herself, regardless of needing to pretend to be a man or not but she enjoys doing such an intimate routine with you.

Bonus points because she also gets to cradle your face in her hands, her fingers tracing the outline of your bottom lip just to see you blush so hard even the white can't conceal it.

On more than one occasion she purposely messes up your lip stain by pressing her mouth against yours. Her own lips smeared with your red pigment a sight to behold.

Whenever you're cold her navy cloak is yours, even if she's freezing herself.

Whenever you two spar together, though she may never let you win, she will steal so many kisses.

She'll pin you down over and over again just to kiss you and feel your body beneath hers. Her unable to stop herself from pushing her knee in between your legs.

By the time you're finished sparring you're too turned on to even care about how badly you lost to her.

When you two travel from town to town Mizu loves nothing more than being able to call you her "wife."

She'll say it's easier. Easier to get a room at an inn and better for you since then you don't receive unwanted attention from men because you're a "married woman."

But, really it's just because she adores calling you her spouse outloud. She'll call you her wife all day long.

Whatever you're eating, she will give you the bigger portion. The best piece. She'll take stuff she knows is your favorite off her own plate to give to you.

In the quiet of the night with you in her arms, Mizu will whisper sweet nothings in your ear and pull you close.

The harsh rasp of her voice replaced by her lighter tone instead, pretenses all gone.

She will tell you she loves you quietly, whispered in your ear or the very words traced along your bare skin with her fingertips.

Telling you how glad she is she found you when really you feel like the grateful one.

To others Mizu may be a demon, an Onryo but to you she's your beloved.

A woman who has shown you her vulnerabilities and who trusts you completely.

She would protect you to the ends of the earth and she cherishes you with all her pieced together heart.

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

to kiss and to die | l. howlett

old man!logan howlett x fem!grim reaper!reader

description: in which death has never been so peaceful

warnings: logan’s death, angst, fluff, not beta read, pics used are not mine and were found on pinterest, the use of one latin word so if it’s badly translated i do apologise.

word count: 2084

he was used to people on the richer side of town booking his limousine service. it was a limousine service, after all. so logan didn't think much of anything when he pulls up outside of a penthouse building and a young woman steps into the car, giving her name to confirm she ordered the service.

when logan confirms, she smiles and closes the door behind her. she screams money, but old money. there's class about her and the way she holds herself. back straight as she sits, one leg crossed over the other and her head held up high. he can't help but take her in. he's never been one to care about the likeness of a lady a woman could be, but there is beauty that radiates off her, that is her, that logan can't seem to shake.

her head is turned to look out to the window, gazing upon the lights of the city that never sleeps. she seems observant in the way she looks, like not a single detail could be missed by her and she wouldn't allow it if it slipped by. logan's eyes slip down to the outfit she wears: a short black dress with a slit in its side, a pair of sheer black tights, black leather heeled boots that hugged her calves, and a black leather trench coat. she's slick, she's elegant, she holds herself high and with might.

as he drives, he approaches a red light. the woman takes the time to pull out a compact mirror, reapplying her lip liner followed by a clear gloss. when she's done, she smacks her lips and places the items away. "you're a hard man to find, logan howlett."

logan's eyes snap up into the rear-view mirror as he starts the limousine up again. his name on her lips is like honeyed venom, he can't quite decipher the emotion that lingers in him when she speaks of him like she knows him. his hands clench on the wheel as he drove, keeping the ride smooth as he turns a corner.

"who are you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and gruff just like his appearance, eyes flicking between hers and the road.

the woman smiles softly, an odd reassurance about it as she does so. "a mutant, just like you." she speaks, honeyed tone never dropping.

teeth snarl at her response. "that's not an answer." he's lived what feels like a thousand lifetimes, and he knows that even people like him aren't to be trusted.

"'the reaper.'" there's a knowing look on her face as she, the reaper, confirms her identity.

mutants knew her, the stories and legends that were a tale as old as time itself. a mutant that dealt the card of death, one who escorted mutants into the afterlife, who resurrected those she believed were not quite done with living. she was all four horsemen of the apocalypse, a woman that wielded so much power the world was her sandbox. nothing more to play with. to see her was like to see a ghost - blink and she's gone.

his jaw clenches tightly. "and what do you want from me?" logan all but growls out.

"you seek me out. why?" she questions with such poise in her character that it's hard for logan to differentiate between talking to death and indulging in his own delusions.

her questions hangs in the air for a moment or two, it's not like either one are keeping count. he can't find the words, he's never been good with them. he's harsh, he's a brute, a killing machine. when is there time to talk when you're killing yourself by killing another?

but there's a security in her presence. she's reassuring, it's peculiar. he's face to face with death and logan's never felt so settled. "i'm old, and i'm tired. there's nothing left for me here."

the way she smiles at him was a comfort in his own as he pulls up to her destination, the limousine coming to a stop. "there's plenty left for you, logan." she sits forward, and logan only notices how she never wore her seatbelt. he supposed she didn't have to. "just because you are at war, doesn't mean you can't find peace."

there's always the discussion of god being all-knowing, but what of death? what of the reaper who knows your story, who escorts you to the place you shall forever remain. death knows, she knows.

the woman pulls out a slick, black business card that's tucked between her pointer and middle finger, handing it to logan. he takes it so gently that he scares himself. he's a brute and yet he's gentle when the time comes. it appears to just be a simple black card, but even with his weakened vision, he can feel the indents in it. 'THE REAPER.'

"no one understands pain better than death." she says and logan's eyes are still fixated on the card.

death, such a simple term given the complexity and intensity of the situation. of him, of her. the words ring out in his head, no one understands pain better than death.

his gaze snaps up, his expression stoic but calm, like he's accepting whatever fate she'll grant him. he watches as she leans forward and places her hand on his cheek. he never expected death to be so warm.

"don't be what they made you." she whispers, and he lets out a sigh in content, in relief. the weight of his regrets and his lost humanity have hung on him heavily, his shoulders finally being lifted.

it's been a long time since logan's been touched. he doesn't even know if he's ever been held like this, cradled almost. to be looked at in such understanding. solitude and loneliness have kept him a shell. he chased it out, leaning into her touch, and it's like she can see him. the guilt, the regret, the pain.

"that's all i am. that's all i know." logan replies. his voice is strained, like the battle he's fought against himself, in his mind, has finally come to light.

her thumb runs across his cheek slowly, brushing against his grey beard. "if death is what you wish, logan, don't let it be a slow one. you've been tortured long enough." her eyes lock onto his. "good men don't deserve to be tortured, and you are a good man. you are a man, not the soldier, or the monster, or the weapon they forced you into being."

logan's expressions softens at her words. and, for the first time in his life, he's being given a choice. the choice to die. not as a weapon, a monster, a soldier, but as a man.

his hand reaches up, brushing over her own cheek. death is warm. there's an intimacy behind it that he's craved for so long that logan feels like he's falling apart from the inside out, and it's different from how he's felt before.

"you have my card, use it. death is everywhere, logan, and so am i."

the feeling of human connection. he craves it. being secluded and a shell of himself has made him overwhelmed as their skin touches. "death," he murmurs, his voice hoarse and gruff like it always is "and you."

she nods, her lips twitching. "take care of yourself, superstes, it's not your time just yet." she finishes and pulls away, stepping out of the limousine and leaving logan entrapped within his mind. not at war, but at peace.

—

the next time logan sees the reaper is at the funeral. it’s expected, mutant reaper or not she’s bound to turn up when one dies. but he also knows it’s because his fingers had subconsciously stroked the sleek business card in his pocket.

she lingers by his side and he feels himself reaching out, grasping onto her hand and she returns to the touch. death is warm. their fingers interlock, and it’s a reassurance that she gives him like she did last time. like she can read his thoughts.

it’s not your time just yet.

the thought makes him reach into his pocket, fingers itching to grace the adamantium bullet he’s carried like his guilt for years but he can’t find it. it’s then that he realises the weight that settles in between their hands and he looks at her.

she still wears that leather trench coat, and a part of logan wonders if that’s her very own black cloak. it suits her, if it is. the air of sophistication, of elegance still surrounds the reaper, and another part of logan wonders if she’s always been like this, or if there was a time when she succumbed to her powers and became a beast like he had.

the reaper’s gaze meets logan’s, that same soft smile gracing her lips. “not just yet.” she speaks and logan nods, hand squeezing hers. human connection.

she stays with logan when gabriela lopez approaches him, and a part of her seems to physically soften at the sight of the woman. when he questions her about it later, she only responds with a question of her own. “what did i tell you?”

it takes a few seconds to recall. he can’t tell if it’s from the old age so his brain has wore down, or if he was so focused on being touched and looked at like he was understood that he forgot her words, until it clicks. “death is everywhere, and so are you.”

and all the reaper does is nod, not another word spoken. but she was the one who pushed for logan to accept the job of escorting laura, and he didn’t know why. but there is something so alluring about death that he couldn’t say no.

the reaper stays by logan’s side awhile longer, her scythe hanging over him like a thread. there’s a time when her fingers trace the scars over his skin that his weakened healing has failed to take care of of, and the word is uttered from her lips again: “superstes.”

he’s not quite sure what it means, what language it is, but she looks into his eyes as she says it. not at the scars, but at him. and it touches his soul.

there’s another time in the kitchen. the couple who had graced them into their homes after the accident, where it’s just them. there’s the slow music in the kitchen, and if his old self remembers correctly, it’s ‘dream a little dream of me.’

logan’s leant against the counter as the reaper approaches, taking his hand in hers; an offer. he’s reluctant at first, he’s not really one for dancing, but death is so tempting. the weight of the adamantium bullet in his pocket, the way she follows him everywhere.

his calloused hand slips into hers, and it’s not really dancing. they sway on their feet, her clutched close to his chest and his chin rests on top of her head. death is warm, and this is the human connection he has longed for for so long. he wants it to linger, to last longer, he needs it like a beggar, and logan is willing to get on his knees if he has to.

but when x-24 arrives, she’s as good as gone.

—

he meets the reaper again, and it’s like a setback in time the way her hand is outstretched in front of her, and the words escape from her lips in a promised whisper: “it’s your time, superstes.”

logan looks down at her hand and he smiles. it’s genuine, just like the one in his final moments, and he takes the reaper’s hand without a single moment of hesitation.

even in death, she is a warm embrace.

he holds her close to his chest, and logan can’t help but sway like the lyrics are behind them, and the reaper chuckles, following his movements. his head dips down, nose brushing against hers and logan lets out a sob. peace, all he’s ever wanted, has finally settled down upon him. in his death as he held laura’s hand, he knew what it felt like. to be at peace, to be loved, to die.

now, as he places a gentle kiss on the reaper’s lips, he knew what it was like to be loved by death, to find peace with death, to be kissed by death.

death is warm. death is beautiful. death is peace. death is…all a man like logan has ever wanted.

[makiandcheese]

i wanna share the genshin impact ships i enjoy and why (mostly rarepairs)

Rosaria/Kaeya - undeniable trust and friendship turned romantic interest. though capable of forming a relationship, their occupation and circumstances prevent them from fully pursuing it. Even if all factors could ignite mutual interest, the fear of ruining the friendship they harbored would stand in the way. What's important in a lonesome city is the same stranger who is looking for the same comfort you seek. Frequent liar or not, he's quite the personality to have around.

Jean/Diluc - everyone says they are exes turned lovers however I view them as the failed chance at love. They are friends who knew each other since they were learning to walk type of friendship. The first love you never forget. If they were given the chance, they could say what they want to the other. "You look even better after you became a stranger to me, pretty woman"

Yelan/Ningguang - The what could've beens. similar to jealuc but in ninglan it's focus is more on the one-sided, unrequited type of love. (using Beiguang for this example) watching the one you love fall for someone you know she deserves hurts. It hurts because you know you could've been with her if not for your own issues. thankfully she will never know you love her since that love will die with you

Rosaria/Jean - oh god where do i begin with this. The "outcast" meets the city's beloved individual. For someone who feels they never belong, its confusing to have the city's hope make excuses to see you. Rosaria and Jean's relationship begins with jealousy due to the nun and the idol deaconess' relationship. What makes Barbara look at Rosaria the way Jean always wanted? Filled with concern and trust that only families have for one another. Giving that to a complete stranger is agonizing.

Lisa/Jean - coworkers to lovers <3. A workaholic learning the simplicities of life from the reliable, easygoing, gentle person. When she'd forget to take care of herself mentally, she'd be there. Unknowingly providing comfort with just her presence alone.

Beidou/Ningguang - Two people who rule and have a significant influence on the community. Bickering and arguing over the smallest things yet loving each other for the same reason. What makes these two so wonderful is the fact that they both witnessed each other overcome difficulties in their own manner. They both achieved goals that brought them together in some way. Competing with which one would make the other prouder.

Venti/Zhongli - centuries have gone and past, and yet home always had the same eyes and breeze. When it comes to gods, the only one they could consider as equal are the same immortals who suffer with them. Why does meeting each other again bring so much comfort and pain? How many friends did they watch come and go like sand through the wind? Thankfully, they can overcome these uncertainties together. Until they could no longer control the corrosion within them.

Surcrose/Rosaria - When your curiosity leads to people questioning your character, the person you gravitate towards is someone similar. Sucrose would have a lot on her mind and would desperately need someone to talk to. Rosaria always wanted to learn more about the world but never had the guts to say it out loud. The mutual silence between them could be a conversation. "I have something on my mind, but I have difficulties saying it" and "Take your time. No rush."

Kaeya/Albedo - Understanding your past from the product of the past can be an interesting combo. Kaeya and Albedo are two perspectives of the Khaenri’ahn existence. The truth is never black or white, in fact, the truth is always relative. Messing around with your coworker because of mutual origins grives a sense of comfort in the city where everyone knows everyone.

Ganyu/Keqing - coworker who has false impressions towards each other. A tender and careful love formed from the desire to protect their city. Patience is a virtue especially for Ganyu. However, with all the years she had lived, days with Keqing always felt like love personafied.

Xiao/Traveler - what cannot be may be. One's duties always hinder relationships, but there will always be someone stubborn enough to reach out. Someone once said that unnecessary suffering is not a proof of strength. Relying on others is difficult but if it's with the person they love, one could only hope that they're not a burden. Thankfully, they don't give a damn about your stubbornness and go out of their way to talk and spend time with you. Since you know that these times wouldn't last.

Ayaka/Yoimiya - The different lives we live shouldn't turn us into strangers. In a life where expectations are laid upon you, finding freedom and happiness incarnate is like grasping sunlight. Ayaka knows she has her duties but spending time with Yoimiya makes her forget the time. Grief and loss often isolate us from relationships (including socioeconomic circumstances). Thankfully the eternal shogun's antithesis stays by your side.

Itto/Sara - Our beliefs do not align, but if someone talks shit about the other. Someone will be getting punched or electrocuted. Being a Yokai in human society always leads to discrimination unless you are equipped with power and unimaginable influence. Seeing each other's most vulnerable sides in the most unexpected times always led to curiosity. Curiosity leading to interest. And interest leading to fondness.

Al Haitham/Kaveh - Unconventional ways of saying "i love you" almost always lead to someone's wrinkly forhead. If turning himself into Kaveh's personal screaming outlet would let him relax, Al haitham would gladly do it. What happened in the past has long gone, and what's left is to continue. Is it so difficult to let him love you?

Candace/Dehya - Every neighborhood child's first loves daring each other. Duty is always the priority. Traveling the world will come one day but not today. If that is someone's belief, then someone will bring the world to them. Even if it's small material gifts, its treasured dearly. Just make sure not to come home bruised and covered in wounds. Else a medicated scolding (and some kisses) would be perscribed by the village's resident guardian.

and that's all folks tell me what you think.

[seramilla]

(Imagine if Lute woke up almost eleven days later after Emily saved her only to have Sera and Carmilla in the room checking in on her and dressing her injuries. I’m sure Sera would have some questions about what happened to her and why she’s in hell and looks like a sinner while Carmilla, aiding Sera, is not exactly happy about Lute being there having learned that she’s the reason Emily was scapegoated.)

Lute jerks awake feeling a sharp pain where her eye was missing. She instinctively goes to swing the sharp talons of her demon hand at the offender when a large clawed hand stops her in her tracks.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Sera is just changing out your bandages.”

Black and gold meet red and white. Lute feels very very small under the burning gaze when she realizes that is she is in the presence of a Very POWERFUL OVERLORD who is holding her arm in place so effortlessly.

“Lute…”

A softer catches her attention, she knows that voice. She turns her head and wishes the ground would swallow her up as she sees the familiar form Sera. She seems more at ease here than she ever did in heaven.

“…I have a few questions. Most will pertain to your fall, your changes, and injuries.”

She’s so screwed, of course she would want to know…but the doesn’t help her cope with the fact she caused it all herself. She tries to swallow back the guilt but it sinks into the pit of her stomach like a stone. Where to even start?

Lute's eye travels back and forth between the two women taking care of her. The overlord's face is set in a scowl that makes Lute feel smaller than she thinks she's ever felt before. There is so much hatred and scorn behind that woman's gaze, that Lute realizes her entire body is paralyzed by how intimidated she is. She's never met this person before...why does she look like she'd enjoy tearing Lute apart and feasting on her battered, bloody corpse?

Wait…is this…?

Sera seems to notice the effect the other woman is having on Lute. She smiles at the overlord, oddly soft and timid compared to how Lute is used to seeing her. Sera had once been so full of authority, with a domineering, confident air about her. The way she looks at this demon woman is...affectionate.

"Carmilla? Would you give us a moment?"

Wait…fuck….THAT Carmilla???

Carmilla doesn't speak. She shoots Lute one more angry, incensed look, and shows herself out of the room. Lute doesn't even realize how tight she'd been holding onto her bedsheets, or how tense she’d been keeping her shoulders; as the other woman exits, Lute finds herself relaxing. Her skin is still crawling, but not as bad now.

"Now," Sera says, turning her attention back to the diminutive angel. "Would you like to tell me what happened, and what you're doing here? And why you look like this?"

Lute shakes. She is shivering. Like a small child left out freezing in the cold. Like her entire body has been dunked into a freezing vat of ice water. Sera leans down, and puts her arm around Lute's shoulder. Lute almost flinches away, but Sera holds onto her tight.

"Breathe," Sera coos. "Just breathe."

Where is this coming from, Lute thinks? Why is the High Seraphim...the once powerful authority over all of Heaven, second only to the council of Elders and the Father himself, treating her this way? With so much empathy, and kindness, and patience? And gentleness? It makes no sense. Not after what Lute had done to her and Emily.

Lute feels nauseous...the bile is already rising toward the back of her throat, threatening to make a not-so-graceful exit, burning its way up her esophagus.

"Why are you helping me?" Lute asks, almost demanding. "What did I do...? You shouldn't be... It was because of me that you...!"

Lute can't manage to finish a sentence, but Sera seems like she knows what Lute is asking, all the same. She rubs Lute's shoulder where her arm is wrapped around her, holding her steady. When Lute starts to get dizzy, she helps the battered angel lie back down, holding a cold cloth to her forehead.

Lute is running a fever...she can tell from the delirium. Maybe an infection, somewhere. Her entire body hurts. But through it all, she still questions...why?

"The people down here have taught me things about forgiveness," Sera says bluntly, drawing Lute out of her bout of mental self-flagellation. "When Emily found you, I almost told her to toss you back where you came from. I was livid. She was the one who made the case to keep you here...and if I were still the type of person I was in Heaven, I wouldn't have allowed it. Or I would have let Carmilla take a stab at you first. Heaven knows she wanted you to die."

Lute quakes in fear. Sera looks at her again, with more disappointment than anger. They both know what Lute and Adam had done. How they were responsible for her and Emily becoming fallen. But rather than seek vengeance on the former Exorcist for her betrayal...the only feeling Lute gets from Sera is pity.

"But it seems like your suffering has been far more recompense for your sins than any of us could ever inflict upon you. So I want to ask you again...what happened to you? What are you doing here?"

Lute can't argue with her. She has suffered. She doesn't want to suffer anymore. So she tells Sera...everything. How her guilt had consumed her. How it had literally transformed her body, fed off her angelic essence, turning her into this, before she'd ever entered Hell. How she'd stayed behind during the last Extermination, hiding and feeding off scraps in the street while she suffered through the pain. How she'd ripped out her own eye, plucked out her own feathers, and tried to remove her demonic wings, but they just kept growing back.

Sera listens, without judgement, without derision, and just stares into the mattress next to Lute's demonic hand. She hasn't been able to look directly into Lute's remaining eye since the former Exorcist began her tale. The things the Exorcist went through...did to herself...it's almost too much for her. When Lute finishes, Sera's expression has totally changed. The anger and disappointment are gone. All that's left is...sadness.

Sera clears her throat, actively fighting back tears. "Thank you, Lute, for sharing that with me...I'm so-- Uhm. Well...Emily wanted to see you when you woke up. Do you want me to go get her?"

Lute doesn't miss the almost-apology Sera had been about to give her, but at the mention of Emily's name, the thought completely leaves her mind. Her one remaining eye brightens a little at the sound, and she tries again to sit up in bed.

"Yes!" Lute says, a little more enthusiastic than intended, fighting with herself to sit up despite the pain in her back. "Yes. Please. Let me see her."

[princesssmars]

siobhan roy gets what she wants, and sooner or later its gonna drive her husband insane. 18+. fem!reader. fxfxm threesome. toms pov.

when she first brings up the idea, tom awkwardly laughs and goes back to his dinner. its some fusion chicken dish at this insanely expensive place in manhattan, no prices on the menus. he asks her to repeat herself and she gives the same response.

a threesome. sex between him, her and another woman. but notnjust some random waitress or escort from some top of the line site like willa. she suggests you. her best friend of the past eighteen years.

the number eighteen just reminds of his shiv's insistence on not having a baby for at least ten years. he picks at his food until she lightly pushes his shoulder to look at her.

she's busy explaining the terms of their agreement and how this is beneficial to the both of them while he just watches. her eyes are squinting like they do when she smiles, and he thinks about the last time she had a real smile while talking to him.

he bites the inside of his cheek and agrees.

tom thought you were hot. and it was a bit scary. he'd heard some social media startup at a banquet remark how it was a shame your family has prioritized the humanities and technology for five generations, because if there was any pick of them to woo the world with a face and body it'd be you.

he never had any doubts about how much he cared for shiv. she was shiv fucking roy, he couldnt believe she was talking to him in that nightclub in ithaca. but he'd be a liar if he said he didn't let his eyes wander the first time he met you.

but he'd also be a liar if he said he'd never questioned just how close you and shiv were. his first introduction to a family and friends golf trip, and he studied how she corrected your stance from behind you, pressing her body into yours. but girls could be..touchy with each other. that was normal. what wasn't normal was roman teasing shiv for 'taking any chance to remind me you got to have a lesbo relationship with the girl everyone wanted in boarding school.' she gives a 'fuck you' and a punch to his arm before sitting next to tom, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

after that, he notices all of the little hand grabs under tables, the shared smiles when one of either of your siblings embarrasses themselves, and the late nights where shiv stays out with you to "go over some business". but he stays quiet. you're just best friends. and he knows the roys' have...odd relationships with the people around them. he's glad shiv has you to rely on when he's not around.

now he's standing over the bed, their bed, as the two of you giggle while shiv tugs your dress over your head, moving to yank your underwear down with quickness. he isn't sure where he's supposed to be or what he's supposed to be doing. a mixture of arousal and uneasiness grows in the pit of his stomach.

he feels like a creep just watching so he settles beside the two of you on the bed, feeling like he's made a wrong move once the both of you stop and your eyes settle on him.

"aw babe, i forgot you were here for a second. don't be shy. she won't bite." shiv consoles him, although the first part of her sentence does anything but. her cut hair rests softly on her shoulders, the black lace of her bra looking so nice against the paleness of her skin. he gives a gentle nod and turns his body towards you.

"yeah, tom. won't bite unless you ask me to." your hand grasps his wrist and brings it to your chest, his palm spreading out over your nipple and squeezing until you let out a hum. he eases into it, jumping a bit when a loud moan leaves your throat and your head goes back.

he looks down and shiv is between your legs, her eyes closed in content as she buries her mouth into you. she doesn't tease you like she does with him, hands bringing your legs to rest over her shoulders and digging into your thighs. he can only watch as your hand moves downward, ready to tell you that shiv hates having her hair pulled, when you get a grip in the red locks and pull, the woman groaning from between your legs.

he knew it all along, but this, all of this, cements it. you've done this before. shiv, the love of his life, his wife, has slept with her best friend, the maid of honor at their fucking wedding, and never told him. he makes eye contact with you, and you give him a smile as you grip his head and bring him into sloppy kiss.

throughout the night he can picture all of it from shiv's point of view. sticking her tongue in your mouth and tasting your lip balm. biting into the skin of your neck to hear your cries. licking over your clit until you cum into her mouth. doing all of it and more to her in return.

he leaves autopilot when he's on the bottom, mouth agape as you sink onto him and take a breather as shiv sits on his face. he's back inside his mind, fucking shiv's cunt with his mouth until his jaw aches and his veins cry out from gripping her thighs.

she normally chastises him for it, hating when he leaves marks. but right now she's preoccupied in you, and if just the sounds of you two kissing is sending him into a frenzy he can only imagine what it looks like. you're laughing, and she's laughing, and his ears strain to hear what the two of you are whispering about over the sounds of sex.

"god, you look so fucking hot-"

"'m so glad you finally did this, god, shit, got so tired of waiting-"

"i know, aw, i know baby. just a little longer, baby."

"im close, fuck tom, shiv!"

"god i fucking love you-"

tom's hips buck up as his high hits him like a freigh train, cumming inside of the condom he had fit on beforehand. you both tumble off of him, and once he gets his bearings he slowly stands and throws the condom into the trash. as he's walking into the en-suite bathroom shiv calls out that you're staying the night, her hand rubbing up and down your leg as youlay out on their bed.

can you tell which one of them i like more. its shiv i want to fuck shiv.

he smiles and closes the door.

[slasherlaurie]

PLS GIVE ME ARTIST X SURVIVOR!FEM!READER THAT BEFRIENDS HER CROWS ON ACCIDENT BY SAVING ONE AFTER ANOTHER SURVIVOR HURTS IT

The reader beats tf out of the other survivor because she's VERY much against animal abuse, so after she patches the crow up and gently plops it in the nest with a little forehead kiss. Then she hunts that other survivor down for sport. But around the artist, she's all shy and sweet (aka bi panic)

Essentially they meet/get close bc of this

I love this woman. I don't know how to function around her. I have also always loved birds and befriended the crows in my neighbourhood, so when she was added to the game I short-circuited.

Thank you.

HIII yes absolutely queen 🫡🫡 i made this so the reader is a newish survivor if thats ok? i just felt it fit a lil bit more for the story but lmk if not and i’ll fix it!

warnings: minor violence, almost implied nsfw but its more just specifying the reader is female, yun-jin kicks a crow, vv long read, my shitty ass english 😭

NOT PROOFREAD/BETA READ

Carmina Mora/The Artist x Crow saviour!Reader

the trial had been going as most do, repair the generators, unhook and heal teammates, try not to be hooked yourself. you were waiting to go unhook Adam, hiding in a particular corner in the realm with the stacked cars (autohaven? you hadn’t been in the entity’s world long enough to remember), when Yun-Jin Lee came sneaking over to you. just as you had decided to sprint over and heal Adam together to get it done faster, a crow appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the small mass of black feathers cawing loudly and alerting the killer of your location. you heard Yun-Jin curse softly in Korean under her breath and then ready herself to sprint away and grab Adam, but not before giving the crow a hard kick to the side.

you were never a violent person, but in this moment you saw red. had it not been for the pained caws of the poor bird, you would’ve immediately taken chase after Yun-Jin to get the crow’s payback with murderous intent. fortunately for the poor thing, you stuck around to help, not even caring if the killer does come to attack you.

you began your approach to the creature slowly, softly trying to communicate you’re not a threat. before you were taken by the entity you had befriended and helped many crows in your neighbourhood, so this shouldn’t be hard.

“hey-shhhh its ok, im here to help you”, you whispered as you took off your jacket to wrap the poor thing in. from the looks of it, the sweet creature wasnt hurt too bad yet rage still flooded your being. its not like it has a choice after all, it just had a job to do. deciding then and there you were going to get revenge for this, you hid for the rest of the trial, making sure that your new friend was safe and comfortable with you all the way back to the campfire.

due to the strange abundance of medkits back at the survivor camp, it was easy for you to get your little pal all fixed up. it was clearly scared at first, but it quickly relaxed, forming a connection with you and feeling you were someone to trust. after a good bit of throat-tearing yelling at Yun-Jin, you took some time to think about where to bring the bird. leading to where you are now.

the eyrie of crows was not a realm you had found yourself dropped into a trial in, yet you had heard the other survivors speak of a monstrous bird woman, turned and twisted by the entity until it was hard to tell where human stopped and ink began. you’re scared, but curious too. you know your friends often exaggerate the horror of the newest arrivals in the fog, so you wonder if The Artist (as she had been assigned by the ones who had faced her most so far) is really as terrifying as you expect.

turns out, you wont have to wait long to find out.

as you finish making your way to what seems to be the main building of the sandy realm, you take a moment to stare in awe at the magnitude of the tower before checking your feathered companion is still ok. climbing over a window to get inside, you find yourself in awe once again, but for a completely different reason.

from the paintings scattered around the bottom floor, to the large messy bookshelves, it is made clear that this place does not belong in the fog. its far too cozy, too welcoming. infact, so welcoming that you dont even notice the tall, nimble figure sneaking up on you.

the only warning you receive of the killer is an angry caw before inky hands wrap around your neck and slam you into the nearest wall. as you wince in pain and surprise, The Artist turns you around to face her.

this… this cannot be the same killer that your fellow survivors had talked about. she’s so gorgeous. too pretty. as her warm, angry breath fans across your face, you feel butterflies rise in your stomach. she almost seems to be carved out of marble, perfect cheekbones and jawline complementing her sharp eyebrows and sharper gaze. as she caws again, as if to ask what you’re doing in her home (or as close as someone can get to a home in the fog), you cant help but notice how soft her lips look too, a sudden desire growing for her to paint your lips black with the ink dripping from hers. her grip tightens, and you remember why youre here.

“i h-have a crow. was injured,” you barely manage to wince out against her tight grip, while softly taking your small buddy from your makeshift carrying sling, “h-here.”

you seem to have made the right decision bringing your companion here, as The Artist’s eyes immediately soften upon reaching your hands. letting go of your neck, she trails her hands down to yours in a way that immediately brings back those pesky butterflies, but you focus on your feathered friend.

cawing affectionately, The Artist softly takes the bird from your hands into hers, making her way upstairs. she doesn’t get too far though, because when your buddy realizes you aren’t following, it immediately starts cawing and flapping its wings in your direction in a panic. confused, The Artist pauses, holding the bird up the stairs and then back down towards you, then repeating as if confused. she coos to the bird quietly and it responds like they’re whispering to each other, and after a bit of back and forth, The Artist turns and gestures for you to follow her up the stairs. you walk behind her slightly, not completely able to keep up with her long, pale legs covered by her swaying dress and- “no. not the time,” you think to yourself, face reddening.

so enamoured and distracted by the presence of The Artist, you hardly notice the large crow’s nest in front of you. however, a sudden inky hand to your torso prevents you from colliding with it, almost making you jump in the best way with how dangerously close her fingertips are to your breasts. removing her hand much too quickly, The Artist beckons another crow over, as if telling it to take care of the new addition to the group. you pat your friend on the head on more time, wishing it luck and promising to see it again, and then its off with the others.

already missing your feathered buddy, you turn to find The Artist staring at you, reading you. her beautiful black eyes are so sharp, yet the anger from just before has faded, replaced with something softer. cawing once, she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the balcony on the same floor. amidst becoming a mess over the feel of her hand wrapping yours so perfectly, so fittingly, you worry for a moment that she’s taking you out here to push you over the edge (though she doesnt seem like she’d do that from what you’ve learned so far). yet, you are soon proven wrong as you round a corner and are met with a painting clearly belonging to the woman who had done all the ones downstairs, the same woman who is now weaving her ink fingers between yours and reaching for the bottom of the canvas with her other hand. she wants your opinion?

“its lovely! youre very skil-“

you’re cut off by a hard shake of her head. The Artist is pointing at something more clearly now: small letters at the bottom left of the canvas, hardly even noticeable if not pointed out. leaning in to read properly, you softly gasp when you realize. its a name. no, its her name. The Artist’s.

Carmina Mora.

“Carmina… that’s so-“ you have so many words to describe, all positive, yet you settle on “-gorgeous.”

turning away so she doesnt see the growing blush on your face (and luckily for Carmina, so you miss her red tinged cheeks at your compliment), you introduce yourself in return and offer your hand out to shake. only for Carmina to take it with both of hers, and hold it to the middle of her chest while nodding her head. a thank you.

“god,” you think to yourself, “im so gay”

the two of you then spend the next few hours or so together, getting to know each other. you get along so well, so naturally, that you wonder to yourself if you were destined to meet outside the fog as well, if you had not been taken. Carmina is so drawn to you, unexpectedly comfortable around you in a way she’s never been with anyone she’s known. you both soak up each other’s presence so much you hardly even notice the sun beginning to set.

you dont want to leave, yet you know the other survivors would endanger themselves and go looking for you if you dont get back before nighttime, and you cant risk that (though you wouldnt mind if Yun-Jin went missing). wishing Carmina goodbye, you begin to walk away slowly, needing to spend as much time with her as possible. however, you dont get very far before pale ink arms are wrapping around your waist and a warm chest is pressing into your back. Carmina coos into your ear, as if asking you to come back soon, and of course, you will. you promise.

relieved to know she’ll see you again, Carmina lets you go and watches you until the fog consumes your figure. you’re a welcome surprise to her, she had never expected to meet someone in her new home that she’d tolerate, let alone enjoy the company of. the other killers were loud and cruel, and the survivors were awful and often obnoxious. except you. you’re different, you understand.

making up her mind, Carmina decides she will send crows for you soon, make sure you visit quickly. you’ve caught her attention, and she has a strange feeling like this was meant to be 🖤

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

It seems that Vhagar is the only living, breathing creature that still cares about Aemond. His sister is apathetic at the prospect of his death, his mother sold him and his brother to Rhae Rhae knowing that it's was death sentence, he probably will never interact with Daeron, and I'm pretty sure that Alys will work against him. As far as I'm concerned, he should just take the granny and give her the best time of her life, inflict as much damage to the blacks as possible and then die, but not before forcing the morally grey™ Rogue prince to do the same.

And it's crazy, but they managed to get me, once a staunch Alicent supporter, to scroll through anti Alicent Hightower tag and just agree with almost everything. Her character assassination was appalling, not only the book Alicent would never, but ep 1-8 Alicent would never. I wish I could erase this horrendous season from my memory. Idk if you've read what Hess said, but according to her, Alicent in the scene at Dragonstone with Rhaenyra realised that she never really sacrificed anything and that's why she agrees to sacrifice her son(s) for "peace". Also, she claims that the writers' intention was to make the audience believe how everything is finally going to be alright because these two women are friends and will work it though, but then *gasp* we see Aegon leaving in the cart and we realize that the war is still going to happen because Rhaenyra will think that Alicent deceived her!!. She must be proud of herself. I can't believe how vile and deranged these writers and showrunners sound (and maybe even are).

Hello!

I lost count how many times I read these words (or even wrote them myself) in the span of the last week but this show is an absolute mess. And it's not just about the stupidest bias, the quality of the script or the lack of subtlety with which the writers are shoving their views on the characters' relationships down our throats. It's also the fact that every person involved in the creative process has theit own view on what's going on - and sometimes these views are diametrically opposed. Take Olivia saying that in her mind Alicent wanted to spit in Rhaenyra's face when she asked her to give Aegon up but mentioning she doesn't know how the material was edited yet - and the writers going all "Oh, she is liberated now! She is atoning for her sins!" (which sins exactly, by the way?). In what world is this situation okay? The actors are barely hiding their dissatisfaction about the plot - and the writers just keep doing their thing which is talking absolute nonsense. Stellar project, well done, HBO.

I am still in the "don't hate the characters, hate the writers" mindset (and have no plans to change it) - but did the writers do Alicent dirty. They dehumanized Aemond the most - but Alicent drew maximum humiliation card. Self flagellation in front of the woman who is an active threat to her children's (and to her own life)? Selling said children (at least her sons) to said woman? Amazing character development.

And as for Aemond, I have the feeling that Vhagar will be his only friend and ally as well (unless the writers turn their own story on its head and have Alys fall head over hills in love with him or something like that). At least, hopefully, he will have nothing to do with Helaena's death (I am pretty sure they will make it the fault of someone from TG - B&C wasn't made into a joke for nothing after all).

This show has become so draining recently, istg.

[natsuki-kibutsuji]

Woman with the moon in her eyes

Part II

Previous: part I

A beautiful sunrise spread over the valley; birds took flight from a nearby tree; the spiderweb glittered with droplets of remaining dew...

Natsuki saw a wonderful morning in a ceramic bowl full of water. This is what her blood demon art looked like. She could see everything at any distance in the water; it acted like interconnected mirrors. She had been trying to hide this ability from Muzan for so many years, especially since she had seen the heir of Ubuyashiki. Despite her situation, she remained loyal to the Ubuyashiki family to which she was supposed to belong. Everything she dreamed of died along with her humanity - starting a family, being a good housewife, helping fight demons. Even the sunrise she was just looking at was taken away from her because she would never feel those rays of sunlight on her skin.

Natsuki, full of frustration and disagreement with her fate, spilled the bowl of water with a sweeping movement of her hand.

"Heavens, calm my frayed nerves, give me strength" she said.

If she was going to spend forever here, she decided not to waste any more time. She could take advantage of the opportunity given to her; live as part of the Ubuyashiki family despite being a demon.

Natsuki was aware that there was something Muzan was looking for. He never said what it was exactly, but he worked diligently in the lab. She wanted to stop him. It no longer mattered how much she had to sacrifice.

Natsuki took a deep breath and started searching the closet for the best dress.

Soon after, she managed to dress up like never before since her transformation. Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt very feminine. She chose a blood-red kimono made of the best quality material; while the right side was decorated with flying cranes. Her blonde hair was tied in a high bun, fastened with a hair needle with bells. She finished with a light touch of red on her lips.

Natsuki prepared a tray with a pot of matcha tea; she set down a cup made of the best foreign porcelain.

"Let's try to stir things up a bit"

She slowly moved towards the laboratory where Muzan was experimenting, somewhere deep inside Infinity Castle. As she walked through the halls, every door opened for her. Somewhere in the distance, Nakime could be heard playing. And with every step Natsuki took, the bells on her head rang; with each step, the doubts grew. It's the riskiest thing she tried in ages. One mistake and the demon king could stop considering her as his plaything. Not that she cared about life - not like this. The thought of missing the chance to help the corps terrified her more.

Before the last door, she felt Muzan's scent and his aura. Her cells reacted to the memory of the masculine scent she felt every full moon. Trying to control it, she shook her head and the door opened.

"I couldn't have expected a more unusual guest," Muzan replied, mixing the measuring cups without looking at Natsuki.

"Please excuse me for disturbing you, I've prepared some tea," she said, putting the tray aside.

Muzan looked dignified and elegant, as always. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt and a crimson vest, with black suit pants. Pink cat eyes peeked out from under his black wavy hair.

"We don't need such human things..." he replied dispassionately.

"We don't need a lot of 'human things', and yet..." she continued the topic, more eloquently.

At that moment she caught his attention, coming closer than she usually did without any explicit command. She ran her delicate hand over the vials and measuring cups.

One of the test tubes caught her attention on the counter. Its color seemed to differ from the rest; while most were red, this one was pale blue. Natsuki, without thinking for a long time, decided to take it to investigate further what Muzan was working on. Leaning fully on the counter, she looked over her shoulder at Muzan.

"Despite your fondness for Western novelties, I know you're old-fashioned, and we never completed our wedding duty..." she continued, trying to reach for the test tube.

"Is it so? I gave you freedom in this matter, considering the circumstances."

"Maybe my approach was wrong. I am a wife after all."

She heard a longer "hmm" from him. After a moment, she felt his hands on her tilted hips, slightly guiding her to spread her legs further. Muzan leaned closer to her, pinning her to the counter. His chest was close enough that she could feel him moving steadily on her back. For a moment, the thought that IT was about to happen passed through her mind; that together they became one.

Suddenly she heard a crash. When she opened her eyes, the test tube she wanted to steal was shattered under Muzan's hand. The blue liquid spilled and then evaporated. A moment later she felt Muzn's lips on her neck, kissing her lightly. It lasted a second.

"I can fulfill my marital duty, but I want more than that," he replied, and after a while he began to leave the room.

Before the door closed behind him, he added, "Stop thinking you belong to people who abandoned you a long time ago."

Natsuki slammed her fist on the counter. She stood up, full of dissatisfaction, and then she heard Nakime pluck the string of her instrument. In the blink of an eye she was in her room on her bed.

Nothing could have made her realize more clearly where the cage was - inside this bedroom.

[g0ldgauntlet]

Webtoon Readers Are Very Harsh on Black and Brown Female Leads.

I've had this thought for a while, and I'm likely not the first to voice it, but I do want to talk about it. It's certainly not a coincidence to me after seeing it happen multiple times. For you to understand my frustrations, I'm going to focus on comparing the female leads from 3 comics: Let's Play, Late Bloomer, and Brimstone and Roses.

(Quick Warning: Let's Play did not originally market itself as an 18+ comic at the start of its publishing, but it very much turns into one after Season 1. Please read at your own discretion.)

(Image description is in the alt text)

Here are the 3 leads of each Webtoon:

Let's Play stars Sam Young, a 22-year-old White woman.

Late Bloomer stars Mai Rose, a 26-year-old Black woman. (Mai is pronounced as "May")

Brimstone and Roses stars Beatrice "Bea" Rosario, a 24-year-old Mexican-American woman. (According to the author, Bea can be pronounced as "Bee" or "Bay-uh")

Let's start with Let's Play.

As a former reader of Let's Play (I read through all 3 seasons), I did observe how this story was perceived by others. The White main character was constantly coddled by readers in the comments section. I would argue that Sam has stunted mental and emotional growth because of her upbringing, and this stays relatively consistent throughout the comic. Her dynamic with Charles wasn't healthy, nor did it actually lead to any significant growth for Sam's character, and it took 3 seasons for people to even realize that. Sam is heavily dependent on Charles, who is way too possessive over someone who isn't even his girlfriend. Sam even acknowledges that he's too pushy for her liking.

There's also this:

Which is just a visualized way of saying "I can fix him." It's set up like she thinks that she alone can help unpack all of his problems if she just gives him some of her own love and care.

The author wants her audience to believe that Sam is manipulating Charles during some points of the story, as Charles makes that point twice (Although, one of those moments is honestly just the author speaking through him), but Sam is portrayed similarly to that of a naive child who Charles takes care of at the same time:

(Context: She drank Irish Coffee sometime before this scene. She did not ask the waitress to elaborate on what it was, and for some reason the waitress herself didn't even tell her that either when she asked for coffee, not alcohol. Charles was left taking care of an intoxicated Sam from that point forward, and the question of whether he'd accept her offer to sleep with her was Season 2's cliffhanger.)

Sam is 22 and Charles is 26-30 (Confirmed in "Questions and Answers II"). They're both adults, obviously, but the way they act led me to believe that their mental and emotional maturity gap is significantly large (Meaning that I can more realistically buy Charles being 30 instead of 26). Sam is frustratingly naive, but someone who's been portrayed as having less power and awareness in the dynamic is a person who I have a harder time believing as being manipulative, compared to Charles, who is much more experienced than her and knows better. He admitted earlier in the story that their relationship was unprofessional and questionable, yet continued it anyway when he could have firmly said no.

Sam also is shown to leave her apartment door unlocked twice, despite knowing that a stranger could walk in. The first time Sam did it, she did it because Charles was coming over and she was going to take a shower, so she told him to let himself in once he got there. The second time was also because she expected Charles to show up, and she was relaxing in her bed while she was waiting for him.

Aside from Sam's character consistently being this glorified portrayal of innocence (seen through the lamb symbolism she has and how much Charles fawns over her because of it), she also isn't really relatable, something that the author tried to portray her as (given that she wanted a relatable and realistic story). Sam's dad is the founder and CEO of a software development company called Young Technologies, and her mom is a world-renowned model and actress. Sam herself is supposed to be a struggling game developer, but she also works at her dad's company as Charles's assistant. From a design standpoint, Sam is conventionally attractive just like her two friends, Angela and Vikki, with all three of them (and most of the women in this comic, honestly) having hourglass figures.

I'm not saying that pretty people can't be insecure or have problems, but every trait added together showcases that Sam, in comparison to most of her friends (Especially Dee, for example. Dee is a dark-skinned, plus-sized Black lesbian, and she works at a coffee shop), is insanely privileged. Given that she comes from a rich family that also has a high social status, with a dad who doesn't even take much convincing to do something when asked by his wife or daughter, Sam has no shortage of money to fund her game and can easily find help with marketing it as well (I'm aware that part of the story's conflict is that Sam doesn't want to take over her dad's business and wants to pursue a career in game development instead, but her dad's backbone is so non-existent that I doubt it would be that hard for her or her mom to get him to contribute towards Sam's games).

Next is Late Bloomer.

I read this comic before Let's Play was first published, so seeing the feedback between that comic and this one was like constantly being given whiplash. Mai works at a place called Galivoyage Travel Services. As the comic goes on, readers referred to her as lazy, spoiled, whiny, unsympathetic, desperate, inconsiderate, and horrible at her job (She is actually bad at her job, but I'll get back to that later). She was called shallow in Episode 8 for turning down Zander, a guy who admitted that he got himself arrested for attempted robbery at a pet store because of his fish obsession (she was also accused of hypocrisy for being put off by Zander's habits, since she has a trait that causes a rose bud to grow on her stomach).

Before this, Mai dated a blind guy in episodes 5 and 6. Because of what happened in Episode 6, readers later accused her of having a judgemental streak for turning down both Zander and this blind guy, claiming that she rejected the latter just because he was blind.

That was not the reason why Mai declined on taking the relationship further. The date was a bust, as neither parties were being fully honest with one another (Mai didn't even know that the guy was blind because he kept that information from her). The blind guy took her to a candlelit dinner that was pitch black, and he had his friend coaching him the whole time. Mai picked up on how sketchy he was acting, and things started to escalate. Her outfit caught on fire because the blind guy accidentally knocked over a candle, and Mai was drenched in water that was thrown at her via a bucket to put it out. Mai did not blame the guy for anything and even acknowledged that her friend, Flora, lied about things on Mai's dating profile while creating it. Mai simply wanted to forget that the night happened and hoped all parties would put it all behind them, but as she's leaving, the blind dude reveals his true colors: He's an asshole. He gets mad at her for leaving and insults her appearance, then proceeds to victimize himself by blaming her rejection on his blindness.

Readers were asking for Mai's character development by Episode 10. At the time of when I read this story (2017), I remembered readers also threatening to drop the comic if development didn't happen after this point in the story. Those comments may have been removed by now, but there are still others who say that they find it hard to like the comic with such a frustrating main character.

Onto Brimstone and Roses.

I'll admit that I'm a new reader for this comic. I'd heard that it featured a bisexual woman of color as a main lead, and the story deals with her personal struggles alongside a demon that she summoned. Bea is a very flawed character, and I appreciate that about her. She has flaws that revolve around the career she wanted to pursue, her complicated family life, and her romantic relationships - Aside from her having a demon, there was nothing really out of the ordinary all things considered.

What shocked me was that it only took 8 episodes for the readers to completely turn on Bea (though negative reception already had quickly built up to that point) and call her all types of names. The readers deemed her unlikeable, selfish, petty, stupid, childish, and a pathological liar. One person stated that they were now only reading the comic for Lazareth, the demon that Bea summoned. Others stressed that they wanted to see character development from Bea as soon as possible.

We are 8 episodes into the Webtoon. That was all it took.

Are you seeing the problem yet?

I need to stress that I'm not saying that Mai and Bea are above criticism just because the former is Black and the latter is a brown Hispanic woman. Far from it, actually.

Mai's work ethic is, like I mentioned earlier, not great. She prioritizes dating over her job, and consistently gets bad reviews from her clients. She and Flora are called out on this multiple times, and are both implied to be dragging the rest of their team down.

Bea, on the other hand, is desperate, selfish, and jealous of her ex-girlfriend despite pretending that it's the opposite. Lazareth calls her out on her behavior, and she comes to accept very early on that he is right. Now she has to deal with the consequences of summoning a demon for petty reasons.

These two leads being called out for their actions isn't the issue. The problem is that Sam constantly gets passes from readers despite having glaring flaws and little to no actual character growth, yet she is praised for having an "empowering" and "relatable" story. There is nothing relatable about a daughter of a CEO and model who has three conventionally attractive male love interests, and whose initial story about becoming a game developer is sidelined after Season 1 in favor of her pursuing her horny, BDSM-loving boss (No shade to anyone who likes BDSM, it's not inherently a bad thing. Charles is just very unprofessional and his unhealthy sex habits are part of the reason as to why). Sam's "empowerment" comes from her changing herself to please a man. Everything that Charles tells her, from how she should act to how she should dress (Wearing revealing or skintight clothing does not automatically make you a more confident person), is based on what he personally likes. Sam even bases some of her own choices on what she thinks Charles would like as well, rather than what she likes.

Sam does not learn much of value from Charles despite her initially claiming that he is the only one who's helped her improve. Her development is mostly stagnant until Monica and Marshall are around, as they're the only ones in the comic who give Sam actually decent advice (I'd count Olivia as well, but she hasn't been relevant in so long that I forgot she even existed). Sam's flaws are usually glossed over, and when she is called out, it's not for the right reasons (i.e. victim blaming, as she is somehow the real manipulator and not Charles).

Mai and Bea are much more heavily scrutinized in comparison, and in Mai's case, not all of it is for the right reasons either. As stated before, Mai did not leave her blind date because he was blind, and the guy's friend even calls out his behavior. The friend states that, because of him, Mai nearly received burn injuries and had her entire appearance ruined when the fire was put out. All she wanted was to go home, and she was within her right to do so. Again, Mai also acknowledged that she and her date weren't completely honest with one another about their identities. However, even though what happened was an accident, the blind guy's lies and planning caused more harm towards Mai compared to vice versa.

Mai was also within her right to turn down Zander. There's nothing wrong with him dressing up as a fish if that's an interest of his, but robbery and crimes are a dealbreaker for multiple people in the dating scene. It's not her job to help him through what's clearly a deep-rooted problem - as readers had claimed she should - since they'd only been on the second date thus far. None of this makes her shallow or picky, and it baffles me that the author of Late Bloomer was shamed by readers for writing this.

Sam's arc and initial plot can remain mostly static and many readers won't complain, but they turned on Mai and Bea because their character arcs weren't moving fast enough for them. Why is Sam's character allowed to move so slowly for multiple seasons, while Mai and Bea have a time limit of about 8 to 10 episodes to receive character growth before readers get bored or angry? If their arcs had moved that fast or been completed in that amount of time, their stories would be rushed.

It's explained later on in Late Bloomer that the reason why Mai is bad at her job is because she never received proper training, and Joune (Pronounced as "June"), a manager at a different branch in the company, shows her what's she's supposed to be doing. The audience is also shown that Flora is one of the main reasons why Mai continues to be distracted from her work. Flora is the one who came up with most of the dating plans for Mai, and constantly has her running around with her to go places. Mai obviously can say no to her, but Flora is characterized as being pushy and dragging multiple people into her antics. Readers knew that Flora was a bad influence and still put most of the blame on Mai anyway.

Eprille (Pronounced as "April"), Mai's boss, is one of two characters who chew Mai out for her unprofessionalism and bad work ethic, but he's shown to be a hypocrite throughout the story since he's just as unprofessional as Mai is, if not more. Eprille is insanely petty, using work as a means of getting back at his ex, Marche (Pronounced as "March"). Both Joune and Cloud (Joune and Eprille's friend) call Eprille out on this, and he's also playing favorites with Mai at work. It's later revealed that the reason why he was so interested in Mai, and the only reason why she didn't get fired from her job sooner, is because he's been fetishizing her rose bud. That bud is part of a process that Late Bloomer calls "Botanical Development." Mai's family line on her mother's side has a symbiotic relationship with a plant in their body, which grows more when it detects their destined partner. If the person chooses to sleep with that partner, the fully grown plant will fall off. Eprille knew about people with this trait, and he had been pursuing Mai solely so that he could have sex with her to see if her plant would detach (assuming that he's her chosen partner). By this point in time, Mai had also found out that Eprille had hooked back up with Marche, but Eprille didn't tell her as he had been pursuing her. He then proceeds to blame her for flirting with him despite him leading her on the whole time.

It was also Eprille's responsibility to train his employees, but he never did. The irony of him chastising Mai for not being a good worker is that her being that way is his own fault, because she improves significantly after Joune shows her the ropes.

Eprille is later demoted from his position by his grandmother (the founder of Galivoyage) for his consistently bad management, and Marche is also fired for being irresponsible at work and causing drops in sales.

As for Bea, I've heard plenty about how her character gets better and even more interesting as the story goes on. Although I haven't read much myself, I consider the author to be very talented for being able to get me hooked after 6 episodes while setting up the trajectory of Bea's journey towards healing as a person. That leaves plenty of time to carefully unpack her baggage and tackle her emotional instability instead of rushing through it just to get to an ending.

I focused on just 3 comics for examples, but I could have mentioned more, such as Haxor and Lookism. Some readers of Let's Play have actually referred to Haxor in the comments as a series where you can find "sjws,"-

oh man if you guys wanna find the Tumblr sjws just read big jo or haxor. the comments on the 1st ep of the latter is YIKES

-which I suspect is because of Iso, the comic's Black female lead. The "yikes" comments being referenced were part of a conversation that happened because non-black readers didn't understand why some people were genuinely ecstatic about seeing a Black girl as a main character in a comic. As a result, Black women ended up having to explain to White people why this was personally important to them, and the author himself was glad that Black women were enjoying his comic.

I didn't get very far with Haxor, but from what I did read, the audience would point out that Iso has a huge ego, and that she needed to be humbled. While being too confident is certainly a character flaw that is acknowledged during the story, as I was reading, I couldn't help but wonder if some readers would be this critical if Iso was White, since many White characters who have her traits are praised for being who they are unapologetically. Iso canonically is a young prodigy in the story, and several people depend on her for support. Obviously she isn't perfect, but it's easy to understand where her overconfidence comes from.

Lookism was a completely different case, featuring Park Hyung-Seok - known as "Daniel Park" in English - the comic's light-skinned Korean male lead. Daniel, for all intents and purposes, is a pathetic and unlikeable (though somewhat sympathetic) character when he is introduced to the audience. He disrespected his mom in the very first episode, as well as Episode 2, because he couldn't bring himself to admit to her that he was getting bullied and also prioritized how he was being perceived by his female classmates (who he repeatedly objectifies). Daniel did this while knowing that his mom was working hard at her job to provide for him, and also knowing that she was trying to defend him against his bullies. Despite this, Lookism is one of the most popular Webtoon comics, as many people kept reading and got the chance to see Daniel grow as a person. Daniel is referred to by readers as having a "great personality" (which I agree with, his character development is great).

If these readers have White and light-skinned characters with similar flaws and circumstances to that of some Black and brown characters as their favorites, but they react more negatively to the Black and brown ones, then they need to ask themselves why.

Why did they dismiss Late Bloomer's Black female lead as just lazy without knowing the full story? Why did they shame the comic's Black female author for not having her character settle for the first two men that she went on dates with?

Why is Brimstone and Roses's author not allowed to let Bea take her time to grow? People with her issues don't change in a day, or even a few. Why are readers less patient with her in comparison to White or lighter-skinned Webtoon leads who are just as flawed?

I am asking Webtoon readers to please give these characters the same grace and patience that you would your favorite White and light-skinned characters. If the story or characters aren't for you, that's ok. I've dropped plenty of media that I wasn't interested in after watching a few episodes of a show, or reading a few chapters of a book. However, when it's the very beginning of someone's story, you very well could be missing out on something great if you're disproportionately judging these women of color far too quickly, especially when many of you will sit through Webtoons that contain hundreds of episodes in them (As for the Let's Play fans, many of you guys sat there seeing nothing wrong with what was going on with Sam and Charles's entire dynamic until the second to last episode in Season 3, when Charles searches through her phone when he thinks Sam is asleep).

I'm not even saying that these stories are perfect, either! I had plenty of criticisms surrounding Late Bloomer as I was reading it, but I still love it despite its flaws. I'm saying that if you can enjoy flawed stories with heavily flawed White and light-skinned leads, you can do the same for flawed Black and brown female leads as well.

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: A letter is delivered to Arrow House, and with it comes promises of death and destruction.

Word Count: 4,403

Notes: Warnings for references to violence and sexual content.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Black Hand

With perhaps a bit more relish than was necessary–though in her defense, the hat had truly offended her–Lucy tossed the aforementioned article of clothing into the fire, purring happily to herself as she watched the fine black fabric shrivel and char. 

In all fairness, if Tommy really had liked the hat that much, she wouldn’t have been on such a warpath to destroy it. But she could tell he didn’t really care for it either, and as his lover she felt it was her responsibility to save him from any truly terrible fashion choices he attempted to make.

“Bye, bye, you terrible, terrible hat,” she smiled to herself as the fire popped, flames consuming the bowler hat quickly. Tommy rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly and pressing a kiss to her temple when he walked by on the way to his desk. 

“Happy now?”

“Mhm. Very. Thank you.”

He shot her that fond, I would do anything for you, look that made her go all mushy inside. Curling up in one of the armchairs by the fire with a cup of tea clutched in her hands, she watched him stand over his desk, flicking through the newspaper and looking far too handsome for his own good. She bit her lip, reminding herself to behave. 

She had plans for him, of course. But they could wait until after Charlie had gone to bed. 

Frances came in with the post and a few questions about the arrangements for tomorrow. She was a lovely woman who’d replaced Mary as the housekeeper almost a year ago. Lucy adored her. She was sweet and incredibly good with Charlie. They could rest easy with her looking after him while they were away. 

While Frances spoke with Tommy, Lucy let her gaze sweep lazily across the room. Next to the fireplace, a huge Christmas tree had been erected, adorned with red ribbons and candles. She and Tommy weren’t exactly religious, but they’d figured that for Charlie, they ought to at least indulge in a little bit of tradition. She eyed the small mountain of presents under the tree, most of them for Charlie, but she’d noticed many with her name scrawled on them in Tommy’s looping handwriting, and knew that there were a good share of gifts with Tommy’s name on them; some that she’d bought for Charlie to give to his father, and some that were specifically from her. 

Not too bad of a haul this year, if she did say so herself. 

Lucy flashed a grateful smile Frances’s way as the housekeeper departed the room, eyes tracking back to Tommy as the door swung shut behind her. He was flicking through the mail, expression uninterested until he came to one specific envelope. His face shifted as he tossed the other mail onto the desk, ripping open what to her looked to be but a nondescript, plain white envelope. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked, straightening up and setting her teacup down hastily when he opened it and she saw the look on his face as he took in the contents of the letter. At the way his expression collapsed into a look of horror and mild terror, she shot up out of her seat, rushing across the room to his desk. Already, she could see things happening behind Tommy’s eyes, his mind adjusting and working with whatever horrid new information had just been thrown at him. 

She hurried around to his side of the desk to stand next to him, head craning to examine the open letter he’d dropped onto its wooden surface. 

Scrawled on one side, in tight, meticulous cursive, it read: 

Merry Christmas to you and your family. 

From Luca Changretta & family.

On the other side, taking up the entire page, framed with a thick, black border, was the imprint of a single, ink black hand. 

“Holy fuck,” she took a staggering step back, as if the black hand printed upon the letter might somehow be contagious. “Holy fuck. That’s…”

“A black hand,” Tommy finished for her, voice sounding like it was very far away. “The Sicilian Mafia.”

“Luca Changretta is Vincente Changretta’s last living son, right?”

“That’s right,” he still sounded like he was only half there, mind racing with thoughts and developing strategies as he examined the new situation from every possible angle. “Everyone will have been sent one.”

“That means that they know where everyone lives.”

He nodded, slowly, staring at the far wall, still processing. Lucy decided to just shut her mouth and let him think. 

“Vendetta…” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Then, louder, “you remember what I told you about vendetta?”

Vendetta. An eye for an eye. Vengeance, usually in retaliation for the death of a family member, extracted in the form of complete and total destruction of the family or organization that had inflicted said death. 

No one would be safe. Not even those who did not know anything about what had transpired with Tommy, her, Arthur, John, and Vincente Changretta. 

“Yes,” she said, quietly, looking around the room, suddenly feeling lost. “I’m assuming it doesn’t matter to them that Vincente’s death was in retaliation for them killing Grace, right?”

“No,” Tommy shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter,” he was still staring at the wall. “They’ll be coming for us all.”

She shivered, swallowing hard and turning away to face the windows,  rubbing a hand across her forehead and wetting her lips.

A year. They’d had a year of mostly peace. The sudden prospect of conflict had her feeling as though she were adrift at sea, panicky with the realization that she was not quite sure where to begin in how to handle the situation now developing in front of them. 

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath. “Tommy…”

When she turned back to him, it was to find him standing with his hands braced widely on the desk, jaw clenched while his blue eyes just stared at nothing on the far wall. Tentatively, she put a hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to rouse a bit beneath her touch, sighing and then pulling himself back up to his full height. 

“You…you have to tell me what to do,” she whispered. He looked at her, and he must have seen a little of the mounting panic on her face, because he took hold of her hands, resting them on his chest and squeezing. 

“I need you to go get Charlie. Bring him in here with us. Make sure your revolver is loaded and with you at all times. Keep a couple knives with you too, just in case.”

She nodded, already feeling calmer at the authoritative tone in his voice as he took control of the situation. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead.   

“Be ready. They could come for us at any time.”

Nodding, she moved to go to the door. Tommy reached around to yank closed the curtains, plunging the office into dimness. 

“What will you do?”

“I need to call Moss,” he said, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the phone. “Get as much information on Luca Changretta and his men as possible.”

“He might be able to find out if they’re already in England.”

He nodded. “I’ll have him check.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back with Charlie,” she said, and stepped out of the room, heart pounding in her throat.   

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy raised an eyebrow as she watched Tommy pour a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on his desk. The action itself wasn’t necessarily odd. What was odd was his plucking it up along with the plate carrying a pastry and a carrot, and taking them over to where Charlie was sitting in a chair next to the fireplace.   

Perhaps Santa was in need of something a little stronger than a glass of milk, this year. 

She smiled to herself, sitting up slightly in her chair to watch as Charlie gingerly took the plate from Tommy, hopping out of his seat and following his father’s gentle instructions to set the plate down by the grate guarding the fireplace for Santa to find. Tommy knelt down next to him, and Lucy had to smother a laugh when he leaned over, nudging the glass of whiskey to join the plate.

Her heart squeezed happily at the sight of Tommy wrapping Charlie up in a big hug, the little boy looping his arms around his father’s neck while Tommy wished him a merry Christmas. 

They’d decided to do what they could to make things seem as normal as possible for the boy. So they wouldn’t scare him.

Slipping out of her chair, she knelt down, smiling when Charlie turned to her and hugged her too. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” she squeezed him back, giving him a kiss to the forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

He smiled sweetly at them both, then took Frances’s hand to let her lead him from the room and up the stairs to bed. Tommy remained kneeled on the floor, playing with his knuckles. Without Charlie there to provide motivation for them to keep up the facade that everything was alright, a dark cloud of foreboding seemed to pass over the room. 

Finally, with a grunt, Tommy leaned over, snagging the whiskey glass on the floor by the plate Charlie had dropped off, and stood. Lucy snatched up the plate, taking a bite of the pastry. Tommy’s steps boomed across the floor before cutting off with a large sigh, leather creaking a little when he sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk. Lucy watched him closely, licking a few crumbs off her fingers. He had his head tipped back, glass of whiskey dangling from one hand, and despite the clear stress and worry in his eyes, his lap looked very inviting.  

She shook her head, setting the plate down, trying to get her hormones in check no matter how difficult he made it sometimes. 

Slinking around to him, she settled herself carefully across his lap, arm wrapping around his neck. Her weight sinking into him seemed to help pull him from whatever thoughts had been swirling around in his head, the hand not still clutching his glass of whiskey wrapping around her waist. 

With a hum, she dropped her face into his neck, snuggling into his warm body. 

“I suppose this all sort of puts a damper on the Christmas Eve blow job I had planned, doesn’t it?”

His brows raised, and she was close enough to see the way that his pupils dilated slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The warmth of his hand coming to rest on her thigh was nice, and did nothing to help in regards to the wrestling match she was currently engaged in with her need for him.

“Mm,” his hum vibrated in his chest, buzzing pleasantly against her. He touched her cheek, small smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “Well…maybe…”

He was cut off by the approaching roar of an engine outside, and both of them went still, smiles falling right off their faces, the brief moment of levity replaced by deep-seated dread. In one quick movement, Lucy jumped off of his lap to her feet. Tommy stood from the chair, setting his glass down on the desk and hurrying around it to peer out the closed drapes covering the window. 

Yanking out her keys, Lucy went for the door, stepping out into a sitting room. A moment later she heard Tommy’s hasty footfalls behind her, his longer stride meaning that he caught up to her quickly, taking the key she already had in her hand and held out to him. The locks on the cabinet in the sitting room clicked, creaking in minor complaint as they were shoved open. Nestled inside, carefully organized, were rows of guns of various sizes and firepower. Tommy grabbed two Mauser C96s with stock from the cupboard, handing one to her, closing up the doors again while she returned to the office, pulling the gun from its wooden holster stock and fitting it together to a click. She checked it while Tommy joined her a moment later, fitting his own gun together. 

It was not lost on her how, when he turned to again peer out the window at the approaching car, he positioned himself in a way that was shielding her. 

Headlights splashed yellow light across the window, and he jerked back, lowering the drapes until the light had passed by. The car outside had stopped moving but hadn’t shut off, just idling near the front door. Tommy peaked out again. Lucy stretched up onto her toes, trying in vain to see over one of his broad shoulders.  

Tommy suddenly relaxed, pulling away from the window. “It’s Ada.”

Lucy blinked, her mind so soaked with sudden adrenaline that it took her a second to process his words. The tension in her shoulders drained, grip loosening slightly on the gun. “Oh.”   

Tommy hummed, taking her gun from her and setting it down along with his onto the desk. She let out a heaving sigh, leaning forward until her forehead bumped into the center of his chest. He wrapped a soothing arm around her, rubbing her back as she took a deep breath. 

“Alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, raising her head, giving her hands a little shake to try to dispel the lingering adrenaline. Tommy kissed the side of her head, then went to the decanter of whiskey, pouring a fresh glass and handing it to her. “Thanks.”

He nodded, prepping another one for Ada. Lucy took a generous gulp from her glass, the burn of the whiskey helping to settle the nerves the shot of adrenaline had left her with.

Ada looked more or less the same from the last time she’d seen her. Her hair was done a little fancier, her clothes more expensive, but under all that it was the same Ada.    

She rolled her eyes fondly when Tommy didn’t even start with a greeting, instead instantly jumping into rattling off about the letter. But he hugged her warmly with one arm, and Lucy smiled when Ada went to embrace her next, giving the woman who had become something like a sister to her a hug. 

“Hello, Ada.”

“Hi, Lucy,” she pulled back, moving about with her bag of presents towards the tree while Tommy continued to tell her everything he had already told Lucy regarding what information they’d been able to collect on Luca Changretta over the past few hours, as well as his orders and plans for a family meeting after Christmas. 

He gave Ada a gun to take with her before she left, and after another parting hug, she was out the door, heading to Polly’s. Lucy huffed. She wouldn’t want to have had that job. Out of all of them, Polly was the one who’d held the most wrath in her heart towards Tommy regarding the arrests and almost-hangings. Ada might have to knock her out and drag her to Charlie’s yard by the hair. 

Once she was gone and her car pulled off down the drive, Tommy rubbed at his eyes. “I need to call John and Arthur.”

Lucy nodded. She was a little surprised that he hadn’t already. If she didn’t know any better, she’s say he was procrastinating. Going to him, she wrapped her arms around his ribs in a hug. 

“If they’ve gotten the letters too, then they’ll know how serious things are. They may be stubborn, but they care about their wives and their children. They’ll do what they need to to keep them safe.”

He nodded, hugging her back. Pulling away just enough to angle her head up and kiss him, she felt him relax a little under her arms, humming against her lips. He touched her cheek after they parted, taking hold of a stray red curl that had fallen there and rubbing it between his fingers.

“I’m sorry that this has fucked up our Christmas.”

“Oh, love, no…” she cupped either side of his face, leaning her forehead against his. “It’s alright. We’ll be fine.”

He pecked her again, giving a slight squeeze to her waist before reaching for the phone. When she pulled away and moved to take a step back, he caught at her arm. 

“Stay,” he requested quietly. Feeling her face soften, Lucy nodded, lingering close to his side as he lifted the receiver to his ear, asking to be put through to John’s house. She listened as it rang, over and over again, until finally Tommy cursed and slammed it down. With a frown, she touched his shoulder.

“It’s late. Maybe they’re already asleep.”

“Maybe,” he didn’t sound wholly convinced, but he picked up the phone again, this time asking the operator to put him through to Arthur’s. This time, someone did pick up, and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief at the rumble of Arthur’s voice on the other line, and not Linda’s.

Tommy was quick and to the point with his instructions, hanging up the phone soon as he was done. 

“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “That’s done. What’s next?”

∗ ∗ ∗

She was curled in his lap, watching lazily as Tommy scribbled down notes. Her face rested in his neck, eyes blinking slow and sleepy. He’d pulled her into his arms almost as soon as he sat down. Even though he’d been mostly silent, just brooding and strategizing, she could recognize the silent desire to keep her close. Probably out of both protectiveness and the need for comfort. 

That was all fine with her; his lap was very comfortable, his chest warm. And he smelled good.

Unable to help herself, she turned her face to press a quick, light peck to one of his sharp, freckled cheekbones, nuzzling him like a cat. His hand petted the back of her head before falling to rest on her thigh. 

“You’re distracting me,” he hummed, a trace of amusement under the gruffness of his stress-strained voice. Lucy tucked her face back into his neck, smiling to herself as she watched him, his stern blue eyes never leaving the page he was staring at, blinking behind the lenses of his glasses as he spoke. 

“Sorry.”

He just pecked the top of her head with a small chuckle, and carried on working. 

She sighed, eyes drifting closed of their own accord. It had been a long day and she was tired. It was unlikely they’d be sleeping much, if at all, tonight, and tomorrow would be equally as long. She needed to catch some rest when she could.  

“If you’re tired, you could go up to bed. Or lay on the couch, if you’d rather…” Tommy started, hand stroking her thigh. 

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Comfortable here.”

His lips brushed her cheek. “Alright, then.”

Lucy was just starting to doze when Frances came in, and while she did not open her eyes or initially pay all that much attention to the conversation, she could practically feel it under Tommy’s skin as he battled to control his temper. Dropping one hand from where it was still locked around his neck, she rubbed his chest absentmindedly in a way that she hoped to be calming. 

Frances was still talking. Something about the chef asking questions. “He says it’s about preparation, sir.”

There was something about that. About the way it was phrased. Alarm bells went off, suddenly and sharply, in her head. Tommy’s muscles stiffened against her, no doubt because he was feeling the same thing that she was. He started to ask Frances more questions about the chef. 

He was new. He joined only about two months ago. Lucy remembered. He was also foreign.

“He’s Italian, sir,” Frances said. Lucy’s eyes snapped open. 

“Oh,” Tommy murmured, lips parted as he processed. He looked to Lucy, saw that her eyes were open and watching him. “When he joined us, you had background checks done on him?”

“Of course. They were all clean,” she was always careful. Especially when it came to anyone that they hired to work in the house. 

“He’s the best chef we’ve ever had in the house,” Frances supplied, answering all Tommy’s questions with no hesitation. She paused for a moment, then added, “the only problem has been his assistant.”

Both Tommy and Lucy’s heads whipped around to her. “What assistant?” they both asked at the same time. The hand Tommy had on Lucy’s thigh tightened protectively as Frances explained that the chef had brought a sous chef with him. 

Fuck. The chef had never mentioned bringing someone else with him during his interviews or when they brought him into the house.

Tommy dismissed Frances for the evening, and gave Lucy a light tap on the thigh to indicate that he wanted to stand. She jumped off of his lap. 

“Get me the chef’s employee file.”

“Yeah,” she went to the records, flipping through the files they kept on each employee until she found the right one, handing it over to him. “I never ran any background checks on a sous chef. I didn’t even know he’d brought one.” 

Tommy didn’t say anything as he took the file from her, flipping it open. She peered over his shoulder, biting her lip and wringing her hands together. He sorted through the papers, a couple of them menus from the chef’s previous locations of employment. He raised one up to the light. 

“San Marcos,” he said.

“Sabini used to own it. I asked you about it when I ran the checks on him. Because he’d never directly interacted with Sabini we decided it wasn’t an issue,” she tapped the note she’d made in the margin of the menu about it. “For all appearances, he looked to just be a normal employee there.”

“The assistant might not have been just a normal employee, though.”

“Sabini’s never exactly warmed to us. It wouldn’t take much for him to decide to help Changretta,” she bit her lip, looking down at the menu. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think–”

“Not your fault,” he shook his head. “I didn't think it would be an issue either,” looking over the papers in the file, he huffed. 

“I’m going to have to go down to the kitchens. You stay up here–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Love, please,” he rubbed at his eyes. 

“If the assistant is with the Changrettas, it’s possible others in the kitchen are too. I’m not about to let you be butchered and hung up on one of our own bloody meat hooks.”

He looked at her for a long time, and she sighed, reaching out, resting her hands on his forearms. 

“Vendetta is here, Tom. It’s happening. Which means as much as you may hate it, you may have to trust me to do one of the jobs you initially hired me for, but have barely let me actually do recently.”

His hands slid to cradle her elbows, frown deepening. “It’s not an issue of trust, Luce…”

“I know,” she leaned closer to him, foreheads resting against each other. Tommy’s jaw ticked, and she squeezed his arms. She knew why he didn’t send her out to kill people nearly as often as he probably should have; instead getting his brothers or another hired gun of theirs to carry out the bulk of assassinations.

It was part of what he had initially hired her to do when he brought her on. But that was before he fell in love–or at least, according to him, before he was aware that he’d fallen in love. And especially over the past year, the amount of killings he’d asked her to do were close to zero.  

She understood. After what happened to Grace, neither of them had been all too eager to leave the other’s side. He’d become protective. Even more than he’d already been.

“It’ll be okay,” she said hoarsely. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He closed his eyes, looking as if he were in pain. Lucy squeezed him again, demanding his attention. 

“At the very least, you can’t ask me to just sit up here and hope that you come back from the kitchens in one piece. I can’t do that, Tommy,” she swallowed hard around a sudden lump of anxiousness in her throat. “I can’t just sit around here, doing nothing and feeling useless when you could be down there getting your head smashed in or worse–” sudden horrid memories, of that time he’d gone to kill Father John Hughes by himself and came back to her half dead, skull fractured and blood oozing from his ears, clinging to her as he danced on the line between life and death, as they waited helplessly for Ada to pull the car up to the hospital, hoping that it wouldn’t be too late–

“Alright, alright,” Tommy’s voice dropped, soothing as he took note of her panicked features. His hands grasped her face, guiding it to look up at him, his eyes open and staring at her sternly. He drew in a deep breath. “Alright,” he said, with more conviction, bending to her requests. She sagged a little in relief. The sternness in his eyes sharpened. “But you stay close to me.” 

“Of course.”

He examined her face for another moment, then nodded. His arm hooked around her shoulders, pulling her close to kiss her forehead before letting her go. “You have your knives?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She followed him out the door, weaving through the halls and assorted rooms of the mansion.

“Thank you,” she whispered, truly grateful. Tommy looked over his shoulder at her, and while he said nothing, his eyes softened a fraction, understanding.

They both knew that the absolute bitch fit he would throw if he were asked to stay put while she placed herself into potential danger alone would be truly fantastic. One for the ages. They’d write about it in the history books.  

They got to the stairs leading down to the servant’s quarters and the kitchens, both of them staring in quiet dread at the darkness that the stairs led down to. 

Tommy moved first, hand resting on the wooden handrail, shoes thunking against the wood with every step down. Lucy took a deep breath, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, and followed him in his descent down into the darkness. 

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[agirlunderarock]

Consequences

Summary: Obi-Wan gets protective of Ahsoka after finding out Anakin plans to use her to get into the Zygerrian slave camp. Some people are more willing to roll with the changes Obi-Wan wants to make to the plans than others.

Pairings: Obi-WanXSas (original female character)

Warnings: None- written for general audiences

A/N: This fic was inspired by artwork by @agingerpanda so please go show the post some love her artwork is wonderful!

Read on Ao3

“Alright, that should be everything,” Sas said to herself as she inspected the neat stacks of disguises she had put together for Anakin’s most recent “just crazy enough to work” idea for the mission to Kadavo. She placed her hands on her hips, whether with satisfaction with her handiwork, or an attempt to keep from fussing with her back brace, she wouldn’t admit to either. She would however admit that she was proud of the effort she put into putting the disguises together. Scrounging around for oddly specific helmets on the black market, or going through the trouble of buying a dress, taking it apart and making something completely new, weren’t exactly the skills she was pulled into the Grand Army of the Republic for, but she found she did enjoy the change. At least it was better than sitting around the Jedi Temple training halls or the clone barracks and running through her monotonous physical therapy routine.

“As our resident shapeshifter, recon consultant, and biggest critic of armor functionality I’m putting you in charge of our disguises,” Anakin had said. Sas had rolled her eyes at the time, but now as she rubbed the soft but stretchy teal fabric of the captive disguise, she felt really pleased with herself. She really did try to keep it simple, almost all functional, the dress being the exception. Well, Sas made it as functional as she could, with as little fabric as she had.

Anakin, Obi-Wan and Rex would be getting to her ship soon to try on their Zygerrian slaver disguises. Heat creeped its way up the back of her neck at the thought. She didn’t want to dwell much on why.  These were just mission things that had to be taken care of, and this time the mission included her shifting into a Togruta woman and being barely dressed. No big deal.

Sas took one quick breath to shake off the pre-mission jitters, and went to change. 

Okay so Sas actually did like the way the disguise fit her. She turned in the mirror, grinning as teal color complimented her green skin and dark hair. The fabric had some give at the top, so it was form fitting, though not tight. She had even managed to leave enough space that she could wear her back brace under it. With the gold necklace and the belt, all she would need to do is ask Anakin or maybe Boil if they could paint her brace the same gold color. She could make it look like the necklace, and the long spinal support was connected to the belt at her waist. She might need a second opinion on it, but truthfully the thought of heading back into the field after being out so long filled her with a nervous excitement.

At least that was what she told herself when she heard the ramp to her ship lower itself. It really shouldn’t have surprised Sas that Obi-Wan and Anakin were early, or that they came onto her ship without knocking, and yet she felt warmth inch its way up her neck again.

“You seem to know your way around here,” Anakin’s voice echoed down the metal halls.

“Only about as well as you know Senator Amidala’s apartment,” Obi-Wan replied. Sas could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

“You two are early,” she called down the small corridor as she walked to the ramp, “For once.”

“If we were going to be late, it would have been Anakin’s fault,” Obi-Wan called back, punching in the code to close up the ramp again. “Lucky for us I know how to keep to a schedule.”

“How would it be my fault? We came from the same place.”

Obi-Wan just ignored the question, “Rex will be here soon. I believe he was having lunch with Pyrrha-” He stopped for a moment as Sas met them in the main storage hold.

Sas watched the two jedi for a moment, Anakin averting his eyes to Obi-Wan, and the latter taking a moment to fuss with his beard under his chin. She wasn’t a jedi; she couldn’t read their emotions, but she could tell Obi-Wan was trying to figure out something to say.  “That's fine,” she started, “Pyrrha knows the code, they can just drop in when they’re ready to. I’ve got your gear sets on the table. Let me just walk you  both through everything. It’s not going to be nearly as comfortable as the duraplast you wear with your robes, but it gives more coverage so that should be good.” Sas was acutely aware of how cold her legs felt as the teal fabric swished with each step. Neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin were the kind to keep their judgements to themselves, so their silence felt heavier and awkward as she continued to ramble on. “So I also needed your opinion on this,” Sas continued, as she gestured to her back brace. “It fits well enough under it, but I thought if we spray painted it gold or something it might look like part of the costume or something-”

“Sas, what are you talking about?” Obi-Wan said at last.

By now the trio was standing in her small mess chamber, Sas leaned against the table as she turned to Obi-Wan, his brows furrowed low over his blue eyes. To anyone else, he might have looked frustrated, but Sas had found over the years it was a face he really made when he was more concerned.

“I just thought it would be better to work my brace into the costume, Anakin or maybe Boil could help me paint it. It wouldn’t take long,” she said. “Figured that would be better than me going without it. I’d be fine to go without it-”

“Sas, you’re not going on this mission,” Obi-Wan interrupted again. 

“What are you talking about Kenobi?” She challenged. “If I’m not going, what was the point of having me put all of this together? Having me put together the disguises?” She looked between the two jedi in confusion.

“So you could feel involved again-” Anakin quickly answered. “You have the best eye for things like this. I didn’t think you would take it to mean you were coming with us.”

“Regardless, Anakin, you could have done her the courtesy of telling her,” Obi-Wan said.

“Honestly, Sas, you’re still my first pick for this mission.”

“Anakin-”

“What? Sas has done plenty of undercover missions for us before. She’s perfect for this!”

“She was undercover as Padme, not being sent to a prison camp. What makes you think those two missions are comparable?”

Sas just crossed her arms and let them bicker back and forth. That was how these sort of things usually went. Truthfully, Sas thought she would have been medically cleared to return to the field by now. She wasn’t surprised though that Anakin hadn’t bothered to check or clear any of it with anyone. While she could say that her physical therapy had been going well, and she was infinitely stronger than she had been a few weeks ago, the implications of getting wounded or looking weak at prison camp, in the event she was rejected as a “gift,” didn’t give her much confidence in making it through the mission in one piece.

“Do I get a say in any of this?” She sighed. Both jedi stopped and looked at her. “Its fine, alright. I misunderstood. It’s fine. I don’t know who you got to fill in, I can see if I can make adjustments for Shaak Ti, I’m assuming you asked her-”

“Eh, Ahsoka is only a little shorter than you, she can make it work,” Anakin said with a shrug. “These my things?” he added as he picked up a stack of gear.

Sas blinked, once, then twice, then looked to Obi-Wan who seemingly turned to stone as he stared at Anakin before speaking again. “Anakin, am I to understand that in your eyes, the next best person to pretend to sell into slavery is Ahsoka, not just your padawan, but a child?”

“She’s a tough kid, and we’ll be there to keep an eye on her. She’ll pick up on the plan quickly. Ahsoka is used to our improvised plans. At least more than Shaak Ti or anyone else would be.”

Sas pressed her palms together, took a deep breath as she brought her hands up to her face before slowly letting out the breath and dropping them. She opened her mouth to call Anakin a few choice words, but stopped abruptly as Obi-Wan reached for his pile of gear with one arm, and with the other guided Sas away from the table by her waist. 

Sas told herself her stuttering was because she was abruptly cut off as Obi-Wan led her away. It definitely was not a reaction to the way his war worn hand sent a shiver of warmth through her when his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of her exposed waist. It wasn’t like he hadn’t touched her before, and yet she felt her heart fluttering with each step she took as he led her back to her cabin. There was no reason for her to feel so worked up. There was absolutely no reason for her heart to race as he adjusted his hand to the small of her back, just where her brace ended.

“My dear, I should apologize for the confusion,” Obi-Wan said as they stopped outside her door.

Sas furrowed her brows. Her mind was still ringing with him calling her ‘my dear’. She felt more warmth creep into her face, He had done it plenty of times before, but something about the way he said it coupled with his hand once again adjusting its position on her waist, left her brain buzzing.

His own blue eyes widened for a moment as he realized what he had done and abruptly pulled his hand away. “For the miscommunication,” he clarified as if he didn’t know he set every nerve ending across her skin ablaze.

“Oh that,” She said, giving a tired roll of her eyes. “It's just Anakin being stubborn. I should have known better than to try to squeeze my way onto the mission so soon.” Outwardly she gave a small teasing smile, “You know its probably for the best I sit this one out. You seemed so distracted when you walked in. I’d hate to mess up the mission because you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

To her surprise she heard Obi-Wan chuckle to himself  as she walked into her room. She looked back at him only to see a small smile of his own tugging at his lips from under his beard. “Yes, well fortunately for me, if you were going you would have shifted into someone else. Someone not nearly as distracting as you claim to be now.”

“I’m not claiming anything. Your silence spoke volumes Pretty Boy,” Sas teased. “It's fine, I understand. I’m just too hot for this mission. I get it.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, but she could still see the small curve to his lips. He looked down the corridor for a moment before letting her door close behind him as he stepped further into her room. “Sas, it's alright if you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

He raised a brow in answer.

“Using the force to read my emotions is cheating,” Sas countered sitting on the edge of her bed. “I know I’m just too gorgeous for you to handle right now, but you could pretend to misread my body language like anyone else would.”

Obi-Wan let out a breath as he moved to sit next to her. “I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are-.” “Its not a joke, I’m a legit snack.”

Sas hadn’t even realized she moved, until she felt Obi-Wan shift next to her and wrap his arm around her shoulders. Her throat closed up around half formed words as she tried to protest that she wasn’t upset. That she wasn’t disappointed, that she wasn’t worried about him.

“Sas, its okay. You don’t have anything to prove by going, or trying to hide that you’re upset.” She felt his chin rest on top of her head. “While I agree, you made a disguise that accentuates your beauty, I would prefer to have you well rested and in one piece. There will always be another mission-”

Closing her eyes and leaning into his hold, Sas let his words sink in for a moment. Of course she knew there would always be a next time. Even if she wasn’t serving on republic funded missions, there were always supply runs  that needed to be made for her home planet. Part of the problem was that there was always another mission and it had taken more than a few tolls on Obi-Wan and Sas. Physically and mentally they were drained, even if they tried not to show it.

“Maybe the next mission will be for us to take a vacation,” she whispered.

“That would be nice,” he hummed. 

They sat in silence for a while, neither in much of a hurry to change their clothes. It was comfortable and Sas was in no rush to disrupt the small moment of peace.

Anakin however, was eager. “Rex and Pyrrha are picking up Ahsoka, they’ll be here soon,” he called from down the corridor again.

Obi-Wan stiffened next to her. “He just doesn’t want to ask anyone else.” With his free hand, Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay but how many Jedi do you both actually know that would put themselves in that situation with you guys?” Sas asked as she slowly sat up.

“You’re not seriously defending him?”

“No, no I’m not.” Sas said quickly. “I just…understand only wanting to work with people who get your- uh preparation methods. That's why I was contracted through you and really only your unit for the GAR.”

Obi-Wan turned to her fully then. His blue eyes scanned her face, for what though Sas couldn’t say. She always understood those little extra moments of staring as Jedi things, that Obi-Wan just sometimes did. “Darling, you’ve just given me an idea. Take off the dress-”

“Excuse me there should be a please sprinkled in either before or after ‘take off the dress.’” Sas said.

Obi-Wan just blinked at her.

“I just mean, I’m not sure now is a good time for that- We can do that but i don’t think right this second is a good time-”

“Sas-”

“I get it, I look good in this disguise,” Sas was grinning at this point, as she thought she saw some red creeping around the edges of his ears.

“Sas, you know that's not what I meant.”

“No, I know, but it did get you to laugh.”

***

“How do I look?” Obi-Wan said at last. He held out his arms as Sas circled and inspected him in his new disguise.

“Honestly you look better than I did-” Sas said quickly as she adjusted the teal material stretched over his shoulder. She had added some fabric to the metal belt and necklace so that it would fit him. She hadn’t anticipated just exactly how the disguise would fit him. Truthfully she didn’t think the teal disguise would fit him at all. “There's a part of me that says I should be offended but,” she stood in front of him and reached out to adjust the top over his shoulder, “it makes your tits look better than mine.”

“Sas-”

“Fine, your pectorals, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“This is barely going to cover your nipple-” Sas thought out loud as she reached to adjust the fabric but then quickly pulled her hands away. Fixing it over his shoulder was one thing, something about this felt different. This wasn't a necessity like when they trained together, or occasionally had to put and check each other's bacta pads. She took a step back studying the way the fabric clung to him, accentuating his muscle definition that usually hid under his robes.

“So we’re leaving it out? I suppose that would add to the appeal,” Obi-Wan said looking down at himself and then to Sas with a small grin. “But you would be the best person to speak on that, right Darling?”

Sas had to look away for a moment. She needed air. She felt warmth flood her face as she tried to look back to him to attempt to counter his teasing. All it took was a glimpse of his little teasing grin and the mischievous glint in those pretty blue eyes to make her heart flutter wildly in her chest. She had to look away again. He was only saying that because she was in charge of the disguises. That was all. Any flirting or comments before, even now, were just both of them being silly. That was all. Her ears burned. She spotted the last of the matching jewelry on her dresser, and took her chance to escape.

“I would be, if I was the one you were supposed to be charming and distracting,” She said once she could clear her head of his grin. She gathered up the head piece and the few rings she had found to match the belt.

“I suppose this would be good practice for me then?”

“The day you need to practice being charming, is the day Tatooine floods.” Sas held up the jewelry. “Besides, you need the finishing touches.”

 She offered him the rings and waited for him to slide them onto his fingers before holding up the head piece. She had expected him to just take it from her hands but instead he tilted his head down and leaned in toward her. Sas stopped breathing.

“Would you do the honors?”

Sas blinked. For half a second she thought he was going to kiss her cheek. He was close enough. She let out a breath and gave him a grin. He was just messing with her that was all. It wasn’t often that she got flustered and he was just taking advantage of that. Maybe even trying to get her mind off the disappointment of not going with them.

“Of course, Love,” she finally answered as she set the crown on his head. She did her best to set the small combs on the edge in his hair without making it look silly. Once it was securely in place she dropped her hands to her sides and looked up at him. “All done. Are you sure you want to do this? Rex, Pyrrha and Ahsoka could show up at any second.”

“Anakin only wanted people he knew well on this mission. Who better to take this role, but me?”

Sas just laughed. “Well if you change your mind, at least we know your other disguise fits too.”

“You did a wonderful job with both Sas,” Obi-Wan assured her as he clasped her shoulder.

“You want me to go ahead of you, make it more dramatic?” “If you would be so kind.”

“He’s going to be so mad.”

“Maybe he should have done what we agreed on then.”

Sas let out another laugh before composing herself and stepping back to the mess table. Anakin had apparently just decided to try to fit the armor over his robes, which worked, but anyone who knew Jedi robes would be able to see through the disguise. Sas felt less bad for him as she watched him slide the helmet over his head.

“What was the point in having me put together actual disguises if you were just going to put the armor on over your robes?” Sas asked as she plopped down on the bench and propped her head on her arms on the table. “It would have saved me a lot of time, you know.”

“Well its about time you’re back. What happened, the old man couldn’t dress himself?” Anakin said, turning to look down the hall waiting for his former master still.

“Well…something like that- You laced up the shoulder piece wrong by the way.”

“Can you fix it for me then?” Anakin asked, turning his back to the hallway again.

“I don’t know, last I heard only old men couldn’t dress themselves.”

“Sas, come on-”

“Fine, stop your fussing. Come here.” Sas shifted so she was kneeling on the couch and motioned for Anakin to stand in front of her facing the hallway again. “Just sit still, this will only take a second.”

“Then what’s taking Obi-Wan so long?”

“Well he’s wearing everything exactly the way I said to so-”

“Obi-Wan, what are you wearing?” Anakin exclaimed.

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the room,standing a little taller and straighter, really attempting to test how well the fabric of the disguise would hold together. Now that Sas had a moment to catch her breath and clear her head, she took a moment to fully appreciate the lengths Obi-Wan went through to get back at Anakin. Revenge may not be the Jedi way, but Sas thought she was starting to understand why.

“Anakin stop moving-” Sas tried not to laugh as she yanked on the armor making him face Obi-Wan as he tried to look away from the Jedi Master.

“My disguise Anakin, I thought it was obvious,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Why are you wearing Ahsoka’s-”

“Oh no, Sas and I agreed this disguise was much too big for Ahsoka. We’ll just let her know she won’t be accompanying us on this mission.” 

Anakin tried to lift one of his arms to shield his eyes, but Sas just pulled on another one of the ties in the shoulder armor to get him to lower his hand. “Fine I’ll send holo to Shaak Ti, I’m sure-”

“Are you kidding?” Sas started, “You think she has time to make it all the way from Kamino? You leave tomorrow and you can’t pick her up on the way.”

“After all Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut in, “You did say you would prefer to work with someone who was familiar with- how did you describe it- your preparation style?”

“Fine, I’ll find someone else!”

“Frankly Anakin there's no one in the Order who knows you better than I do. It only makes sense that I should take this role.”

“I think it's a bit late for that, Ani-'' Sas said, finally letting go of the armor straps and letting him step away.

“Come on, Obi-Wan take it off. You’re not posing as the slave,” Anakin said, though he still wouldn’t look directly at Obi-Wan.

“Oh no, I believe I fit your requirements better than Ahsoka could.”

“I’ll find someone else, it won’t take me long.”

“No, you said you wanted someone with more experience following your plans, and these are the consequences for not making a proper plan.”

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose. “There's gotta be someone else-”

“Someone else for what-” Ahsoka’s voice trailed off as she stopped in the opposite entrance.

Sas kept her grin contained as Rex, Ahsoka, and Pyrrha stood in the main hall staring in shock at Obi-Wan. Even though they were all struck differently, it was nice to know she wasn’t the one. Rex and Ahsoka shared similar wide eyed expressions of complete shock, Anakin still wouldn’t look directly at his former Master, and Pyrrha, clutching her helmet, was trembling as she tried to contain her laughter.

“Oh nothing,” Obi-Wan answered the padawan as he crossed over to lean against the couch next to Sas. “Anakin was just thinking I should be replaced. He should know better than that though.”

“Besides, General Kenobi here would get a much better deal than anyone else  we would pretend to sell,” Sas chimed in, as she shifted to give him a high five, only to have him clasp her hand in his. Her heart stopped for just a second, but she kept her hand in his.

“It’s not going to make any sense- we need a Togruta to get into the camp,” Anakin complained.

“Well, you do like to improvise, so we’ll improvise,” Obi-Wan answered calmly.

Ahsoka’s brows knitted together as if she were finally starting to make the connection. “I’m definitely not going to wear that,” she muttered, eyeing Obi-Wan skeptically.

“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “It was already settled. I will be sold off, Anakin and Rex will be the ones to do that. Pyrrha, you may need to take Sas’ place as the third guard since she’s not medically cleared for the mission.”

Pyrrha finally wheezed out the giggles she had been trying to contain. “Wait, I thought the plan was to have four keepers.”

“I mean I have extra gear but that's going to be up to Anakin and if he can stick to the plan this time,” Sas teased.

Anakin sighed, “Yeah sure let's have four, Pyrrha you can switch with Obi-Wan, or maybe Jankari will do it-”

Before Pyrrha could answer, Obi-Wan spoke up again, “No, you just said he had to have a Togruta to get in the prison camps. A human woman isn’t going to get us any closer. I’m your best chance.”

“Master Jedi, Republic High General, makes him a valuable catch, on top of you know the look he has going for him,” Sas added, earning an eye roll from her friend across the room.

“Unless of course you’d like to volunteer to be the captive,” Obi-Wan continued looking pointedly at Anakin. “I’m sure Sas could make some last minute modifications-”

Anakin threw his hands up, “NO.”

“Then it’s settled,” Obi-Wan said, his grin growing wide under his beard.

“Wait one more thing,” Pyrrha started. Rex just tensed up next to her. Clearly the captain just wanted to grab his gear and go. “We gotta get a receipt for Kenobi when we sell him. They might try to get a refund for him after having him around for a while.”

“Oh no, there's no exchanges or returns for this sale,” Obi-Wan said with a small head shake.

“ Is that why Sas hasn’t been able to get rid of you yet?” Pyrrha added with a snicker.

Sas looked up at Obi-Wan, who was looking back down at her, and their hands still clasped together. She couldn’t get rid of him even if she wanted to, is what she wanted to say and she even offered him a small smile. He could probably tell what she was thinking anyway, nothing she said out loud would really matter. So instead she turned back to the group, Anakin had already disappeared down another hall to remove his armor, and said, “Hey Ahsoka, you wanna take Pyrrha’s place as a guard?”

“Does it mean I have to deal with more of,” Ahsoka gestured to the general area between where Anakin walked off and where Obi-Wan was still standing, “this?”

“Probably.”

“I think I’d rather deal with the younglings all week.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you as always for reading, commenting and sharing. I hope you enjoyed :3

Tag list: @heyhawtdawgs @itsonlymyecho @stardustbee @obiwankenobisarm @pickleprickle

Join the tag list here!

[sundered-souls]

Inge Sjasaris

B A S I C S

Name: Inge Sjasaris (pre-EW), Inge Grymkoelwyn (post-EW)

Nicknames: none

Age: In her sixties

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon

Race: Viera

Gender: Loaded question given that I've never bothered posting about her tribe, but long story short: she's fine with being called a woman. In our modern western ways, she'd be more akin to genderqueer. In her people's way, it's hard to translate so she never bothers. Honestly any pronoun is technically fine by her, it'll never be completely right anyway.

Orientation: Whatever, but more female leaning overall.

Profession: Mercenary, alchemist

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: I've yet to find a satisfying mod for what I have in mind but curly and mid-long, black, badly cut 'cause she tends to do it herself whenever the length annoys her too much. Rarely tied though, she doesn't like the feeling (hence the terrible haircuts)

Eyes: Grey

Skin: Dark brown, with some freckles

Tattoos/scars: A tattoo left by Louisoix's spell between her shoulder blades. Many scars scattered on her body, most faded though and none too remarkable.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Both alive, never named them x)

Siblings: Two unnamed sisters and one brother, which she doesn't know is a brother because she left before he hit puberty. He's called Solrunn and is played by @inah-ffxiv (who also plays her wife)

Grandparents: I didn't flesh out the family tree so far so.... no idea

In-laws and Other: She's married to Yersinia Bordetella (which isn't her real name if you wonder after reading Inge's family name above) Also in a relationship with Y'shtola.

Pets: None

S K I L L S

Abilities: The notable ones would be magic enhancing/debuffing (and healing but if you don't get hit, it's even better), war surgery, alchemy (mostly potions), botany and bow hunting. She can hear the Elementals too

Hobbies: Reading smut and romance. That's about it, she loves her job as an adventurer and doesn't take much time off.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Steadfast and kind

Most Negative Trait: emotionally constipated and prone to reproach people their recklessness before doing the exact same fucking thing five minutes later (But it's different because she knows what she's doing™)

L I K E S

Colors: she loves bright colors in general but mostly wears neutral/earthly colors herself (as to not make a target of herself). Doesn't have a clear favorite

Smells: damp soil, forests, quite a lot alchemical agents, tea, campfires

Textures: Leather, smooth polished wood, soft wool

Drinks: Tea, tea and more tea

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Recreationally. Did you know the Twelve will approve of your union even if you're too high to remember the entire day? Should you get lucky enough to meet them, they'll even mention it /shudders

Drinks: Tea and water. Occasionally maybe some fruit juice. Never any alcohol, it makes her sick

Drugs: Nothing other than what I mentioned above

Mount Issuance: Inge's actually in the Twin Adder and got her chocobo through them. The bird doesn't have an actual name, she whistles to call it/give it orders and mostly uses it as a beast of burden rather than a mount. Her yol is in the care of the Mols. She didn't want to take it away from its natural environment, but she visits sometimes.

Been Arrested: Never. To say that she's always a law-abiding citizen might be pushing it though...

Tagged by: @lilbittymonster (ty!) Tagging @inah-ffxiv @adrayellinaeth @archaiclumina @hakai-zonapher @feathersage @wpip-raham @the-crimson-rose @sharlayanscion @ooc-miqojak (so you can pick which character you want to do it with) @punchelf @chadhunkler @clockworkdimensions @gatheredfates @corsair-kovacs @heavensw4rd

I went through my followers list and I have more characters so feel free to ignore if you're not interested and I'll tag more people when I do it with the rest of the cast!

[aerithistired]

Why Aeon is resident evils weakest ship (It's NOT cuz they're toxic for eachother DUN DUN DUN)

HII this was copy pasted from a reply to another discussion, but I'm posting it cuz I want to post my opinions <3I never understood why the fandom is so crazy over aeon when they have the most weakest writing in a ship I've ever seen but to each their own I guess.I'd love to hear your thoughts and expand on my argument more!

I dont ship anyone with Leon in general which is INCLUDING Ada. For me it doesn't have anything to do with the facts of the story, because its all perfectly sensible on paper ( also because it is clear they're the endgame couple and are each other's love interests), but mostly with the way the couple was written- and *especially* Ada.

I'm not too familiar with the old RE games but from what ive heard and seen- Ada was supposed to be a black cat/cat woman/ femme fatale character and have a Batman- catwoman relationship with Leon. Personally, im not a huge fan of the dynamic, but other wise i can still see it as a solid dynamic for a ship.

On the other hand, i feel like the remakes and especially the RE2R doesnt know what they want their relationship to exactly be because from what i have noticed, they've significantly reduced the Catwoman- batman dynamic from the og games (Lily Gao, the RE4R VA herself said she wanted to tone down the seducctive femme fatale persona In ada in response to backlash).

I feel like re2r tried to make their relationship feel like an angsty and serious slow burn but considering their limited screen time and development together, didn't execute well.

In the beginning of the game (RE2R) Ada is quite serious about her work and partnership with Leon and is very strict about not getting close with him- on her part that is(i believe leon leaned more towards trying to get to know her).

Chemistry wise, i dont see much happening between them up until the part Leon takes a bullet for her and she treats him and when he does the same for her afterwards. I really liked the "dont push it rookie" line she gives him after he offers to carry her(?), It was more warm in comparison to their relationship before, and i wish they delved Into that with more scenes like that before the kiss (basically build up their relationship with emphasis on ada).

Also i feel its important to note that the scenewhen Leon takes a bullet for Ada had SUCH GOOD POTENTIAL to open into her character and how she felt about Leon at that moment because its a clear turning point in their relationship but AGAIN we get nothing and Leon is literally asleep.

!!And please don't start the 'hidden subtle details of the scene' argument with me cuz those scenes cuz despite the small details, is still not enough to establish a good relationship development growth- and especially since we barely get any monologue from Ada's side on how she feels about leon.!!

If there were clear cut scenes of them developing in trust and proper teamwork AND OPENING UP OF CHARACTER DEPTHS (and getting past the one sided attempt at friendliness from Leon) EARLIER ON IN THE GAME this wouldve made the betrayal much more heartbreaking too.

I think those segments would've been an excellent START for DEVELOPING their relationship and getting closer as a team.

☆Most well written and beloved ships have enough screen time with them showing development of their relationship- esp in slow burns. This applies to video games as well.☆

However, the pair mmediately kiss (AFTER LIKE ONE SCENE OF THEM SLIGHTLY DEVELOPING), And that was when the ship lost me. It WAS too sudden from a writing point of view and had so very little build up about their trust and caring for each other.

I'm not saying you can't fall for someone in a short time, but the issue rather was how there was LITTLE chemistry portrayed with them UP TO that moment. YOU SHOULD GIVE ME SOMETHING WORTHY TO SHIP THEM, CAPCOM.

More scenes like the one i mentioned before (with more emphasis on Ada opening up, The hints of her teasing him, etc) would've been great.

i understand that the game is not a romance but if you are trying to pull a slow burn-esque type ship off, you should commit to it, either that, or make it a fast one with chemistry right off the bat (like flirting and banter) cuz THIS was just very messy.

And that was ALL we got of their relationship for the first game. CAPCOM could've made great use of them in the other RE games (re4r and re6) but the couple ended up on more of the yearning and longing for side than actually developing together on screen, which sucks. (which is also like kind of annoying cuz we didnt see much of how they felt for the other throughout the game UNTIL THE NEAR END OF THEIR FIRST GAME- Which also had very little on screen moments of development. SO THEY HAVE A LIFE LASTING IMPACT ON EACH OTHER?? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!)

LIKE I GET THE POTENTIAL ON PAPER BUT IT WAS NOT IT IM SORRY.

And for the argument that Ada is *supposed* to be the mysterious character- i get that its a part of her appeal- but i find myself craving for her story to be shown in game than searching for crumbles of it from other RE material.

A well written character needs depth. And Ada HAS depth, its just shown subtle to an UNNECESSARY extent in the case that capcom tried to 'show and not tell' but it just doesn't execute well in terms of writing a romance where both characters need to grow and develop for a potential relationship or a ship.

(LOVED SEPERATE WAYS BY THE WAY). I ALSO DONT LIKE SHES IN EVERY GAME LEON IS- which just mostly reinforces she is his lover than a very vital part of the RE universe in GENERAL (which is why im so sad she wasnt in village) I really wish they put more focus on HER story.

And as for Cleon and other leon x ships- I don't know about them, since they barely interact throughout the RE universe. but i feel like if they did work together, potential for great chemistry could've been built for the pairing too. Shrugs

Again, i think Aeon had great potential but it went down the drain because of inconsistent characterization of her within the fandom, the game itself and the way it was written.

Everything Is there on paper. 'But she bandaged his arm. She helped him so many times when she didn't need to. She loves him and he loves her.'

OKAY, I'm READING what I'm supposed to feel about the ship, but it's not hitting. Why? Cuz it's badly written.

Im a bit annoyed when people try to argue that this ship is good in terms of writing cuz its NOT!!!! I dont really care if people ship them cuz they're attractive and the appeal is there *sort of*.

But if you're trying to argue on a story and writing basis, it's one of the worst ships I've seen in ANY media forms lol, you can't make a case for this ship and win im sorryヽ( `皿´ )ﾉ

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I'm terrified of writing my opinions on ships on here so I'd like to emphasize this is just a silly fictional game and I've been meaning to write my opinions on it for a while. all in good fun! sorry for potential bad grammar english isnt my first language :DD

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas <3

cw/tws for medical stuff, complex family relationships, discussion of death

so, for context, im a regulus black kinnie (itll make sense, give me a sec aha). ive got a difficult relationship with most of my family, but most especially my mother and older sister. my sister is a lot like our family's sirius (except if he still had walburga's narcissism, cruelty and manipulation), and she really doesnt get along with either of our parents. my mother is... a difficult woman, in that she likes to victimise herself in every situation, shes homophobic/transphobic/all the phobics, shes also very narcissistic, and likes to make uncomfortable comments without bothering to be nice about it. all in all, i try not to be around her much. im also supposed to be moving out soon, and planned to minimise contact as much as possible once i do.

to the point: my mother was diagnosed with cancer yesterday. my father (hes kind of a neutral party in the family dynamics, btw) was the one talking to me about it, since she's in hospital at the moment. he said they caught it early enough where a bit of chemo over the next few months should get rid of it and she'll be okay, but 'cancer' is a scary as fuck word. he also then told me that this isnt her first time with it — she had a different type of cancer around 20 years ago.

honestly, i feel like my brain is battling itself about how i should feel. on the one hand, ive been looking forward to not having to be around her now for years, and i hold very little love for her at this point. why should i care? she'll be fine at the end of it anyway. but shes still my mum, yknow? and i feel awful having these thoughts about how badly ive always thought of her and how much ive wanted for so long to get away from her and how it almost feels like this is some sort of sick fucking joke from the universe about how i should be careful what i wish for or something.

this whole situation keeps making me think about regulus in best friends brother(? i think thats the right fic) or p much any modern au where walburga dies so tbh ill probably end up writing a fic about it to cope, but still i just... i guess i needed to tell someone? my father asked me to keep it to myself for now so that it wasnt spread around where we live (its a small area; everyone knows everyone).

and the bit with my sister - as i said, she doesnt get along with our parents. i dont talk to her much anymore either because she seemed to inherit a lot of our mothers worst traits, but im afraid that if we do talk about this then she'll have some awful thing to say about it. she makes some really dark 'jokes' sometimes about suicide and death and such, and im nervous that she'll say something about how she hopes it kills her (again, my sister fucking sick, and has zero empathy), because shes made similar jokes about other stuff in the past. i also dont think she'd understand that im still afraid for our mother even after everything shes done, and i hate the way my sister turns on me and rips the piss out of me when she doesnt like what i do.

it all kind of circles back to how im supposed to feel, i guess. part of me wants to not care and brush it off, whatever, but theres still part of me dying for my mothers love and approval and is terrified of losing her, even with the low possibility.

sorry this got so long, and for how heavy it is. i hope youre doing well cas, and thank you for all you do for us <3

Hi hon!

My god, you ARE a reg kinnie.

Here's the thing- there is not a RIGHT way to feel about those things. You have a complex relationship with your mom, so of course you'll have complex feelings about the situation. You don't need to feel guilty for feeling any certain way, because there's no right or wring way to process this. You're allowed to feel scared and neutral and confused and ambivalent. That's okay!

Your feelings aren't a betrayal to anyone, and you have a right to them. You also have a right to any action you choose to take. Remember to do what feels right for YOU, because YOU are important.

I'm here if you ever need to talk <3

Naming you reg kin anon.

[danpuff-ao3]

(PRIDE)

This month I've decorated our calendar in Pride colors.

To explain: my office has a dry erase calendar. The ungodly maniac who created it decided it should be Monday-Sunday. I mention this not because it's at all important, but because I need to vent about how much I hate it at every given opportunity. Anyway, back to the point: dry erase calendar. Each month I fill in the calendar with the month, year, and all of its days. Each month I give 2 colors: 1 color for normal days and 1 color for "special days" (holidays and coworker birthdays.) The 2 colors change per month. Red and blue for July. Red and green for December. Orange and black for October. Last month, May, I chose pink and green because it was my birth month and I chose some of my favorite colors.

This month, every Monday is red. Every Tuesday is orange. Every Wednesday is lime green (there is no yellow!) Thursdays are dark green. Fridays are blue. Saturdays and Sundays are the closest colors I could get to "indigo" and "violet." This means instead of swapping between 2 markers, I have to keep all 7 at the calendar, and dig out which one I need to mark off any given day. It's a bit of a hassle but I like the extra color and I really like the nod to Pride.

Why this matters is I half expected to get in trouble. You see, I live in the Bible belt of the U.S. I live in a very rural city. Technically it's called a city, but it's a laughable excuse for one, and yeah quite rural. Quite conservative. Quite Christian. The sort of place where no one is racist or homophobic "buuuut...."

No one said anything at first, but on Friday one of our workers said "I like the calendar!" which I proudly zoomed out of my office to take ownership of. "That was me!" Said worker was very enthusiastic about it, and appreciated it as "it's the details!" She's only one person, but her support made me feel better about my decision. My Boss was sitting there when she said this, and his lack of commentary further relieved me. Clearly he was aware of it and had no problem with it. Phew!

Later that afternoon, a handful of us gathered around another coworker as she lamented how her daughter has been distant from her. She never outright said it, but strongly hinted that her daughter recently came out as a lesbian and she may or may not have a girlfriend. This coworker is very "love the sinner hate the sin." She never outright says anything. But if you listen long enough, you get the picture.

The trouble is, I otherwise really like this coworker. She's funny, vivacious, generous, kind. She just is also very Christian and very married to her beliefs. She doesn't hate anyone, you see. She just can't "support" everyone and everything.

To hear her tell it, her relationship with her daughter was fine after all of this. She wouldn't really hear a word about it. But me...I don't know. Maybe the daughter was relieved at first that her mother didn't hate her, but over time it grated at her. Maybe it was fine before she had a girlfriend, but now that she has an actual partner, her parents' position on the matter is more of a problem. My coworker thinks the girlfriend is a "bad influence" but as for me...I don't know.

In fairness, I don't know the daughter or the girlfriend. Maybe my coworker is right. Maybe the daughter doesn't care that her parents love her, but hate her "sin." Maybe her girlfriend really is a bad influence. But I can't help but really doubt it.

I like this coworker. It makes me sad that she's so hurt. I don't like anyone to hurt. But also....I can't help but hope her daughter keeps her distance. Her daughter is young and, while an adult and living on her own, still relies on her parents for so much. I really hope that she can break away from needing them. That she can take care of herself and not need to keep people in her life who don't really accept her. I've never met this woman in my life, but I ache for her.

What my very Christian coworkers don't know is that I'm agnostic. Also: asexual. That last one might not mean much to them. It's not anything people take very seriously. At best they sort of shrug it off. At worst people are confused or think I'm confused. Even people in the LGBT+ community don't think we belong with them.

It's easy in some ways. I'm a cis woman and my partner is a cis man and no one looks at us twice. No one's really going to be on my case unless I make a big deal out of my identity.

The problem is, it's a big deal to me. I spent years and years feeling broken and confused. I had no comprehension of what asexuality really was until my early to mid twenties. Once it was on my radar, it still took me years to sort it all out. I was 26 before I really found a way to explain who I am and what I experience: sex-favorable asexual! Even now it feels like such an important thing because even if not everyone will understand, I at least understand it myself, and have some tools to try to help people understand. The words make me feel comfortable, and valid, and whole. And not crazy. Not broken. It feels nice to know I'm not alone. That there are people out there who feel the way I do, and experience what I do.

Since the start of the month I've seen friends make their own pride posts, and I've wanted to make posts of my own, but it always felt icky. Wrong. Am I overstepping if I talk about it? Not everyone thinks we belong, after all. We don't really "count" as queer to everyone.

So maybe it's easier in some ways. In other ways, though....it can feel like such a small and lonely place to be.

My world is bigger than the small-minded small-town I'm physically in. I have friends all over the world. Friends from different places, with different faiths, and different orientations. Most of my friends are queer and neurotypical and just as "weird" as me. I have a place I belong and people I belong with, even if they're not a walk down the street, or even a car drive to the next town over. I'm lucky in some ways.

And foolish in others.

I forget sometimes just how small people can be. Many of those around me scoff at Pride. Who needs Pride anyway? There are rainbows all over! Rainbows belong to GOD and the GAYS STOLE IT. What about straight pride? The world isn't really homophobic anymore. They're not homophobic, really, but...

Since Friday I've not been so proud of my pride calendar. It's such a small and silly thing. This office is so gray. Gray floors and gray walls. The sky outside is gray. My little rainbow calendar looks so sad. It's not really do anything.

Except, it meant something to someone. One person's day was brightened to see it. And maybe that's all that will happen. But maybe someone will come into our office...someone like my coworker's daughter...and maybe they'll see it and feel less alone. Even if they don't know who, even with nothing else, maybe just knowing that someone here supports them...maybe it can mean something to someone. I know how important it's been for me to feel less alone.

And even though it feels so small, every day I rummage for the corresponding color and mark off another brightly colored day.

[slocumjoe]

If you were to rate the Fo4 companions from most to least favourite how would you rate them?

I can't list them in order, because I have too many feelings on them....and also, I love them all! It's just...there's such a Rollercoaster of quality of writing, of character concept, of VA performance, of actual attention and care given to the meat-and-potatoes aspects...

Like, I can say I have a favorite (Danse) and a least favorite (Piper) and a dude in the middle who I give not a crap about (Deacon), but I still like these characters??? They're fun! Its just, I like my idea of them more than what's actually there.

So, uhhhh

RORY TALKS ABOUT THE COMPANIONS 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

this is basically a long-post of a bunch of mini-essays, so grab a snack or nice bev and get cozy

Cait, to me, is a prime example of "this character sounds better on paper". I've already complained about her three greatest flaws; being bloated, being mishandled, and being a very confused character. If I were to describe Cait, it would be that she's a troubled young woman who was traumatized all her life, but understands that it's effected her heavily and wants to work past it and better herself.

In game, she's...an Irish Girl. She talks about drinking and fucking and fighting. If not that, she's detailing her absolutely horrific life. It gives me tonal whiplash. I feel like they were too busy adding things on rather than fleshing her out. I mean, really...what is the significance of the Tough Irish Girl type in the wasteland, where everyone acts that way? Is Cait an example of your average wastelander, someone whos supposed to show the daily life in this world? Well...no, that can't be it, she's put away from others, an outsider who doesn't fit in whatever circumstances she finds herself in. She doesn't belong with raiders, she doesn't fit into the average civilian life. So, is she about ostracization and how even after being nuked, there still is a society to ostracize people? That is brought up in text, but that's not at all Cait's thing, that concept is with Hancock.

I travel with Cait to quickly get her affinity up to speedrun her "recovery" (see the Cait breakdown to learn my thoughts on That Fucking Chair) because I want her to get better...but I don't like traveling with her that much. It's not just that she often disagrees with my usual choices, she's just rather flat. I don't get the impression that the writers really considered her psychology, what she stood for, what someone should or could take away from her.

But I like her conceptually. There's a lot of fun and emotional catharsis to be had with a traumatized character like her, someone who has to navigate life after escaping her bad situations, and not knowing what to do with the survival instincts she had to cultivate, but no longer needs.

Codsworth is inoffensive to me, and I like sassy but polite characters. I find them refreshing in settings like Fallout. I had more fun imagining his lines as thinly-veiled bitching than sincerity, though. I think he's fine, just simple. Simple is best, sometimes. I wouldn't trust Beth to give the indentured servitude robot an even remotely palatable story, given how they handled the synths and their whole thing...

But Codsworth, I like having him around. He's the lemon water to the black coffee, sugary soda, whiskey, and occasional cups of tar. He's needed at a palette cleanser.

Curie should have been a main plot companion, argue with the wall. She's a Ms. Nanny who becomes a synth, which are functionally human beings. She has a lot of narrative potential, being an example and counterargument for many different things.

Unfortunately, she's kept mostly a secret, being the most hidden companion, and she's left as a simple French maid fantasy. I'm not even sure why they bothered to make her a doctor. It has nothing to do with how she's actually handled and presented. Curie's more often blushing than meaningfully interacting with the world. She talks to Amari, she becomes a synth, and the rest of her story is just her going KYAA~ at the SS. I wish they gave her some edge, some weirdness. I like my version where she's this slightly pretentious, condescending, incredibly old-seeming entity that clearly doesnt come from around here.

Danse...my boy. My boy. I adore him. You don't need me to explain why. And you don't need me to explain why his incomplete writing infuriates me.

I've said before he's very similar to Hancock, and since I have something else I want to discuss about with Johnny down in this, I'll use Danse's slot to discuss it, very quickly.

Danse and Hancock are remarkably similar people and characters, even there is parts that drift or parallel in their differences.

Substance dependency (Hancock does chems, Danse is a canonical alcoholic)

They both struggled to find their footing and place in the world, and hate the people they were in their act 1's (Hancock's takes place during his founding of Goodneighbor, Danse's after BB)

They're fiercely loyal and protective of 'their people', even if it can take a LOT for them to consider someone 'their people'

Both are suicidal and identity plays a huge part (Hancock pretends to be someone he isn't, Danse is desperate to be the person he thought he was this whole time/hates that he isn't who he thought he was)

Both of these characters are two sides of the same coin. It's just that Danse's upbringing led him to believe in authority and control being the best way to help and take care of the wasteland, Hancock's upbringing (filled with corrupt authority and control) led him to believe in an egalitarian, we-all-lift mindset where the people have the power, he's just the guy who people talk to about any issues. It's somewhat implied that Cutler was similar to Hancock, judging by Danse's few lines about Cutler.

So uuuhhh Todd where the fuck is the last 2 arcs for danse and last arc for hancock? todd? todd where the fu

As said above, Deacon is nothing to me. I like him. I don't care about him much. I think he's fun to play with, but the moment you start getting into his backstory/angst, I slide right the fuck off.

Okay, the Barb thing. Dead wife. Fucking boring story, done to death. At the point I met Deacon, I had already met Mac, Nick, knew of Longfellow and his deal. So it was like "JESUS they really dont know any other reason for a dude to be sad, do they." But the thing that keeps me from caring about Deacon is that no one can agree if Barb is real. If that actually happened.

...his backstory is supposed to inform his character. Why is Deacon doing this? Because of his backstory. If his backstory isn't real, we know nothing about Deacon, and he is, functionally, not a character. Why does Deacon lie if Barb didnt happen? Dunno. He just...does. Why is Deacon helping synths? Uhh...we needed an RR companion? Deacon's character rides or dies on Barb. If she's real, then the rest of him makes sense. She's the windex and towel to the cloudy glass house that is the rest of him. If she isn't, Deacon...doesn't matter, in any meaningful way. He's a guy in the RR who lies about everything, which means you can't care about him. Because there is nothing to care about, because it's all bullshit.

So, that's my thoughts on Deacon, in-canon. I don't know what his deal is or if his proposed deal is genuine, so I can't click with him. But in my own canon, Barb is real, so my Deacon ken-doll does appeal to me. But in Fallout 4, in text, I regard him the same as I do Tom Bombadil. To give you an idea of how flimsy Deacon is in text, a prevailing fan theory from around 2017-18 was that Deacon was Mrs. Rosa's son. Mrs. Rosa was a pre-war neighbor. Her son was a kid. The fact that Deacon is so weird and fluid and almost omniscient isn't a plus for me, it isn't a point of fascination. It's a puzzle that I know doesn't have a finished product, so I leave and go hang out with Danse, who can't speak if he isn't being absurdly blunt.

Gage is a character that deserved a better DLC. The more I think about Nuka World the more I kinda wish it was just Gage and the handmade rifle, instead the map...but that's about Nuka World. Gage himself could have easily been a swing and a miss and fall face-first into the dirt, but he's a surprisingly well-written character? There are layers of psychology with him. You can look at an action or opinion he has, and map it to something that happened to him. You can literally unravel why he does what he does, is who he is. His writers had a concept for him, and they worked backwards to understand why he would become that way.

What really sells him is his VA. Rolston put his whole pussy into that performance. Gage has so many lines that would be utter cringe if not full-assed. The "That vault suit makes your ass look great" line comes to mind...i've seen modded followers with similar lines, and jesus christ i want to pepper spray some of them. It helps that Gage has multiple faucets to his personality. It also helps that he is intentionally distinct from the other raiders, and occasionally doesn't associate with them, himself. It gives him standards and principles, which help give him shape and dimension. Good character. He isn't my favorite, that's Danse, but he's up there.

Hancock is such a waste of a character and it boggles me no one else seems to think so.

He starts on a bad note because his core reason for existing, is Beth wanted a historical figure reference. There's a reason he gives you a history lesson about John Hancock, it's so everyone knows exaclty what Johnny Ghoulie is a reference to. It's not even so much a reference, because it is a direct mimicking. I cannot stand the moments in 4 where something exists because the team learned a fun historical trivia fact, and wanted to pepper in that they did research. I've already bitched about their love of this with the Railroad at some point on this blog.

I genuinely wouldn't mind Hancock if he wasn't pulling so limp-dickedly. It's specifically the contrivance of explaining why this dude is called John Hancock, in John Hancock's clothing. It's okay if they pull from history and allude to it, But Hancock is just...some history stuff tacked on, with no real thought or care. The clothing, the name, the catchphrase. I feel like this is Disney's Hamilton on Ice.

But moving away from that...what is the point of Hancock?

Is his character about drug use and addiction? NOPE, only Cait's addiction is noteworthy. Okay...idenity issues, since he's larping? Not really. It could be, but that's not at all of interest to the story/writing itself. The Hancock thing is an aesthetic, not a trait. So, don't have that either. Is his character about leadership, in any capacity? Kinda, I guess. He briefly mentions insecurities and guilt about it a few times. But if I said "Hancock's story is about leadership", most people would raise an eyebrow and ask why. Not because it's...wrong, it's just not prominent enough to say that's his story, definitively.

So...what is the point of him? What should I take away from Hancock? Duty to the people? Preston does that, and does it better/more explicitly. Regret about past actions? Mac does that. Protecting the people from political corruption? Piper's thing (AND WE'LL GET TO FUCKING PIPER.) What is there to Hancock that isn't done by another companion? It isn't his depression because ALL these bitches be suicidal. What is unique to Hancock? Pretending to be someone else? Deacon. Drugs? Cait. Trying to figure out who you are, removed from the expections that come with having been someone else? Nick. Leadership, and the failures of it? Danse. Struggling to navigate the world in a new, different body, as a new person, functionally? Curie.

The only thing I can think of is mentioned only twice, and is immediately brushed off; the questionable nature of your leader being buddy-buddy with you, and acting like 'one of the bros' even as they hold power over you and have resources you don't. Parasocial government, if you will. It's brought up by Finn and Bobby No-Nose and is shut down/forgotten.

So...the only thing unique to Hancock, and it's regulated to, like, 3 individual throw-away lines. 2 of which you can miss.

Great.

Again, I like him. I just like him when I'm writing him, and can actually have him work through his shit and concepts. But as he stands, he's just...hey, y'know John Hancock? New Vegas also pulled from history, but New Vegas had shit to say about it. There was debating. There was actual philosophy and politics. There wasn't some dude named Caesar who was just...hanging out. What does Fallout 4 say about John Hancock?

Here's something you can say about Hancock; Hancock owned slaves. He inherited them from his uncle, Thomas Hancock. He later freed them due to terms in Thomas' will. But the guy Fallout 4 meagerly puts up as a figure of freedom and independence, and duty to fellow man, was a slave owner, and had slave owning family.

So, what does that mean for our Hancock? Who looked up to this guy, mantled him, and this guy is, in some way, a perversion of his own ideals.

And our Hancock's favorite quote is from Lincoln. Who started the Civil War. Did Lincoln own slaves? Contested, i couldn't find any clear answers. But Hancock mantles a slave owner, using a quote from the president that would try to outlaw slavery, while pushing for freedom and independence and anarchist rhetoric.

Is that the best you can do with Hancock? No. But it's an example.

MacCready, I've compared to a can of Campbell's soup. He's simple, he's decently-done. He's not Codsworth's lemon water but he isn't Cait's tar. I often struggle to write MacCready because he's so simple. There's not much there, he isn't a complex character. He's not even a complex person. And I like that! I like that the grumpy mercenary is a normal guy, who's just going through the motions and has simple desires. His type is often tar and I'm happy to see that subverted.

Its just that his lack of complexity means there's not much to say about him that you don't already know. He's accessible, which is a good thing. Most people don't want to drink tar, but if you're reaching for a fun beverage, you're not often reaching for water, either.

I think the best thing about MacCready is how excellent he is as a romance option. I think he's the strongest romantic choice in the game, period, largely due to him being a simple guy. I would go for MacCready IRL, because he's a good dad, he has good work ethic, and he's emotionally available and isn't afraid to talk feelings, without being a clusterfuck of issues. I love Danse, but you have to talk him out of suicide before you do anything, and he himself will admit that there's going to be a lot of issues simply because he doesn't know what he's doing or what he wants out of his new life.

You don't get that with MacCready. He knows what he wants and who he is and what he cares about. He's such a solid romantic interest, and there's incredible fic potential with the Sole Survivor and MacCready both as soon-to-be grieving parents.

On the flipside, I can't understand people who romance Nick and think its all sunshine and roses. Mini-rant, but /rad-roche (i think thats their user?) has the right idea, with Nick being a hot mess of unresolved issues who is never not projecting or in denial. Nick is not fit for a romantic relationship, not in the state you see him in game. Especially not before Far Harbor. Especially if you don't get the good ending of Far Harbor. I know, bisexual women, I'm sorry. He's got more shit than Danse and Hancock combined. I write romantic Nick prompts as if this isn't the case, but make no mistake. Me giving yall what you want is not me under the impression that this is a good idea.

Anyway. Nick himself.

Dead wife. Booo. I've already complained about his dumbass quest, which i really dislike for all its contrivances. Also, I find him mismatched with the world around him, and I wish there was more attention paid to that. He's a stock character playing out in real life (in Fallout 4's real life, that is). He's a 40's noir flick detective. This character does not belong in a post-apocalypse. This is an urban setting character. Fallout is not urban.

But that doesn't mean he can't exist! I just wish they went more ham with it. I mean, how does a detective function in a lawless wasteland, full of secrets simply because there's so few people see shit happening, know what goes down? It's an information blackout, out there, and a detective is all about information. Nick deserved to be let loose and go full camp on it all. Instead, we got 2 piddly little piss stains of "mystery" side quests. With someone as clashing as Nick, you really need to either sand down the edges to make him fit, or make the fact he's so weird part of the Thing. Nick is played incredibly straight, and given that that man is clearly lgbtq+, i find that almost a waste. Let this man be deranged. This is why Far Harbor is best Nick. He's holding together in the base game, but i don't want him holding together. I want him to suffer. I want him to monolog like Hamlet before driving a cane into someone's forehead.

Now, as for Piper...

Oh, Piper.

You were doomed.

You were so fucking doomed.

I've written about Piper and her shitty paper multiple times, so if you want a refresher, go to my blog > pinned post > meta section, and find the Piper posts. My peer review of The Synthetic Truth will be your best look into what I think of Piper.

The thing is, if you removed her awfully done journalism aspect, I'd like her base form! When she isn't going on and on about shit that's either wrong, baseless, or presumptuous, she's sassy, she's community-orianted, she's mischievous, she's kinda sardonic. She has a sugar problem. She's a burnt out 20 year old with a parentification issue. There's a lot to like here! The problem is they set up the journalism, fuck it up, and then veer hard-right and crash into the "I'm raising a kid when I'm not even an adult either" thing, where it had no build up or time to unfold naturally.

In my own little world, Piper's journalism fuckups are addressed and have consequences. I don't want her smoothed out and perfect, I want her glaring flaws to be intentional and acknowledged. And that just doesn't happen in text.

Ive also got a ramble on my thoughts on Preston. I've said before I don't like his voice acting most of the time, and I actually got a lot of pushback?? But the people who disagreed didnt...disagree...they just pointed out that John Gentry had a gnarly recording circumstance. I think it was that his first takes weren't supposed to be the final product, because he wasn't really intended to be the VA? Something like that, I forget. Point is, I said John Gentry obviously had a rough time in the booth, and wasn't given a fair shot, and people went "No, his voice acting is good! John Gentry just had a rough time with his line recording and wasn't given a fair shot!"

M-ma'am. Thats...what I said.

If it makes anyone feel better, I don't like the majority of the voice acting in this game...a lot of it is very 'modded skyrim character.' Remember the Skyrim Romance Mod? Thats what most of it sounds like to me. Remember Mrs. Peabody? Holy shit. Do not let anyone involved in that cook ever again. I also have personal beef with Nate. The male VA for the SS...someone, somewhere, made a bunch of choices. It was the wrong one, frequently. (The only good male SS line i can think of is the one romancing Danse. Has some texture to it. It's shy and cute, very good)

As for Preston himself, love him, love my paragon good-guy characters. He's such a sweetheart but he's down for bloodshed. I adore those kinds of characters, those "do no harm, take no shit" types. He's treated as a fluffball by fanon (when not suffering racist ass takes or absolute disregard), but Preston has got some lovely edges to him. If you go through his dialogue page and his approvals, you'll find he can be hard at times. There are moments he approves of 'asshole' choices, which is very fun. I love this dude.

Anyway hot take. IF HE WAS WHITE, ALL OF THESE BITCHES WOULD LIKE HIM. YEAH. I SAID IT. He'd be a depressed white man who's buff and kind and snarky, and you Danse girlies, you Nick girlies, you Deacon girlies, all of them would love him too. He is tailor made for standom but nooo, he isn't #FFFFFF so I guess he's doomed to stupid ass settlement jokes.

Yall lack taste. Hawk puhtoo.

SPEAKING OF AWFUL FUCKING TASTE, LEAVE MY BABY X6-88 ALONE.

X6-88 is so unappreciated. Grotesquely so, by both Bethesda and fans.

X6-88, I've said many times, is a spoiled rich man's cat who sits all poised and hisses if you so much as look at it if you're below a certain tax bracket. He's fussy and egotistical and snippy and dislikes bugs, children, water, heights, and generally anything above ground. He gushes over Danse and thinks he's the coolest. He'll let you kill the Institute if you're Railroad or Minutemen and have high affinity with him. He'll brag about getting to travel with you with his courser buddies. He's a fucking dork.

X6-88 is a nerd/prep who could be goth if left in a Hot Topic to run wild, but until then, he's in a suit for his private school and he's going to sit on HIS bench at recess and snipe at the rival school children with his friends and then he goes home and complains that his english eacher failed him on his Roman history test for writing it in perfect Latin. That is X6-88.

If you don't like X6-88 we cannot be friends. Fuckiung look at him. He's such a little shit. He's perfect.